Chapter 233 Three Days Without Seeing Him Felt Like Three Years

Chapter 233 Three Days Without Seeing Him Felt Like Three Years
POV: Silver Preston
I try to find Eli after we get back from his dorm room. Try calling. Texting. Nothing.
I walk to the rink during what should be afternoon practice. Stand outside like a stalker, waiting to catch him coming or going.
Liam comes out instead. Sees me. Walks over.
"He's not here," Liam says.
"Where is he?"
"Don't know. Coach said he's taking personal days. Left campus Sunday night. Hasn't been back since."
Sunday night. The night after our fight. The night after the disastrous game.
"Did he say where he was going?" My voice comes out smaller than I intend.
"No. Just texted the group chat that he needed a few days. That he'd be back." Liam's expression is sympathetic. "He's not doing great, Silver. Whatever happened between you two really messed him up."
"I know."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you both keep hurting each other and calling it protection." He shakes his head. "I don't know what the answer is. But this isn't working."
He walks away, leaving me standing in the cold.
I try texting Eli again.
Silver: where are you?
No response.
Silver: please just tell me you're okay.
Nothing.
Silver: i found the letters. we need to talk.
Read receipt shows he has seen it. But still no reply.
Monday night, I barely sleep. Keep checking my phone. Keep hoping for some sign that he is okay.
Tuesday morning brings new campus gossip. Whispers about Eli Hayes taking a leave of absence. Speculation that he is transferring. That he has quit the team. That the pressure broke him.
I walk through campus feeling like a ghost. Everyone stares. Whispers. I am the girl who destroyed Yale hockey's golden boy.
"Ignore them," Americus says for the hundredth time. Her braids are tied back and her expression is firm. "They don't know anything."
But the judgment feels heavy anyway.
Tuesday afternoon, I go to Coach Morrison's office. Knock on his door.
He looks up from his desk, unsurprised to see me.
"Is he okay?" I ask without preamble.
"Define okay."
"Is he safe? Is he coming back?"
He leans back in his chair.
"He's safe. Whether he comes back is up to him."
"Where did he go?"
"That's not my information to share." His expression is serious. "But he needed space. To think. To deal with things he's been avoiding for too long."
"Things like what?"
"Things like the fact that his father died two years ago and he never properly grieved. Things like the fact that he's been running himself into the ground trying to prove he's worth something. Things like the fact that he's in love with a girl who keeps pushing him away and he doesn't know how to handle it." He folds his hands. "That enough things for you?"
My throat tightens.
"I wasn't pushing him away. I was trying to protect myself."
"Same difference sometimes." His voice is not unkind. "Look, I told you both to figure your situation out. Talk like adults. But Hayes needed to do some internal work first. Face some demons. So I gave him a few days. He'll be back Thursday."
"Thursday?" That is two more days.
"Thursday morning. Then he can explain himself to you properly. If you're still willing to listen."
"I am." My voice is quiet. "I found the letters. In his trash. I know what he did. The money. Carroway. All of it."
He raises his eyebrows.
"You broke into his room?"
"Technically Americus picked the lock."
"I don't want to know." He holds up a hand. "But yeah, he paid off Carroway. Spent every cent he had saved. Which is why the Swedish contract was tempting. Would have replaced that money. Given him security again."
"But he turned it down."
"Because you matter more than security." He looks at me steadily. "Question is, does he matter more than your fear?"
I do not have an answer.
Tuesday night, I cannot eat. Riley forces toast and tea on me. Americus threatens to sit on me until I consume calories.
"He's fine," Americus says firmly. "Coach said he'd be back Thursday. Stop spiraling."
"What if he comes back and decides he's done with me? That I'm not worth all this chaos?"
"Then he's an idiot. But I don't think that's what's happening." She pulls up something on her phone. "Look."
It is a Venmo transaction. Eli paid someone named James Hayes $200 with a note: Thanks for letting me crash. Needed to clear my head.
"His uncle?" I frown.
"Probably. Point is, he's with family. Processing. He'll come back."
"How do you even have access to his Venmo?"
"Better you don't ask." She closes her phone. "Trust me. He's not running away from you. He's running toward being better for you."
Wednesday is worse. I go through the motions. Class. Library. Dining hall. But nothing feels real.
I keep expecting to see him. Keep turning corners thinking he will be there. The campus feels empty without him.
My phone buzzes Wednesday night. Finally.
Eli: I'm sorry for disappearing. I needed to deal with some things. I'll be back tomorrow morning. Can we talk? Really talk this time?
My hands shake as I type back.
Silver: yes. where and when?
Eli: I'll come to you. 9 AM? Your dorm lobby?
Silver: okay.
Eli: Thank you. For not giving up on me yet.
I stare at that message. At the "yet." Like he expects me to eventually.
Silver: i'm not giving up. but we need to be honest with each other. no more secrets.
Eli: No more secrets. I promise.
I show the texts to my roommates.
"Tomorrow morning," Riley says softly. "You'll finally get answers."
"What if I don't like the answers?"
"Then at least you'll know the truth." Maya squeezes my shoulder. "Better than living in uncertainty."
Wednesday night, I cannot sleep at all. Lie in bed watching the ceiling. Watching the clock. Counting down hours until 9 AM.
What will I say to him? What will he say to me?
I have seen the letters. Know about the money. Know about his father. Know about the sacrifices.
But knowing facts is not the same as understanding feelings. And there are still so many feelings between us. Unspoken. Unresolved.
At 6 AM, I give up on sleep. Get up. Shower. Stand in front of my closet trying to decide what to wear.
"It doesn't matter what you wear," Americus mumbles from her bed. "He's not coming to judge your outfit."
"I know. I just--" I pull out jeans. A sweater. Normal clothes. Nothing special. "I want to feel like myself."
"You'll be fine." She sits up, surprisingly awake for this hour. "You want us there? Moral support?"
"No. This is something we need to do alone."
"Okay. But we'll be upstairs if you need us. Just text."
By 8:45, I am in the lobby. Sitting on one of the worn couches. Watching the door.
Students come and go. Morning rush. People heading to early classes or breakfast.
8:55.
8:57.
9:00.
The door opens.
Eli walks in.
My breath catches.
He looks exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair longer than I remember, like he has not bothered getting it cut. He wears jeans and a Yale hockey sweatshirt that hangs looser on his frame than it should.
But it is his hands I notice first.
Bruised knuckles. Split skin. Like he has been punching something. Or someone.
He sees me. Stops. Our eyes meet across the lobby.
"Hey," he says quietly.
"Hey." I stand up slowly. "What happened to your hands?"
Eli looks down at them. Like he has forgotten they are injured.
"I'll explain," he says. "Can we go somewhere private?"
I nod. Lead him upstairs to my floor. Find an empty study lounge. Close the door behind us.
We stand facing each other. Too much distance between us. Too much hurt.
"You've been gone three days," I say.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Your hands are bleeding."
He flexes his fingers. Winces.
"Yeah. That's part of what I need to tell you."
"So tell me." I cross my arms. Not defensive. Just holding myself together. "No more secrets, remember?"
"No more secrets," he agrees.
He takes a breath. And I wait for whatever truth is coming. Whatever had left him exhausted, older, with bruised knuckles and shadows in his eyes.