Chapter 235 Anger Hides Worry

Chapter 235 Anger Hides Worry
POV: Silver Preston
Eli starts the car. The engine coughs to life, heater blasting cold air that will eventually turn warm.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Somewhere we can talk without being interrupted." He pulls out of the parking lot.
I watch him. The tension in his jaw. The white knuckles on the steering wheel, the ones that are not already bruised.
"Just tell me now," I say. "Whatever it is."
"I need to show you something first."
"Eli--"
"Please. Five minutes." His voice is strained. "Then I'll explain everything."
I pull out my phone. Look at that anonymous message again. You might want to ask your hockey prince what really happened in Boston.
"Who keeps sending these?" I ask. "Who has my number and knows what's happening?"
"I have a theory." He turns onto Chapel Street, heading away from campus. "But I need to confirm something first."
"What theory?"
He does not answer. Just drives.
We end up at a small park on the outskirts of New Haven. Empty at this hour. Just bare trees and frozen grass and a parking lot with no other cars.
Eli pulls in. Turns off the engine. Sits there staring through the windshield.
"We're here," I say. "Now talk."
He pulls out his phone. Opens his messages. Finds a thread and turns the screen toward me.
It is a conversation with someone named Marcus Bennett. Recent. From Tuesday.
Marcus: You really paid him $45k? That's insane.
Eli: Had to be done. He wouldn't stop otherwise.
Marcus: Could've just let me handle it. One conversation and he'd have backed off.
Eli: Your kind of conversation would've gotten us both arrested.
Marcus: Worth it. Guy's been asking for it for two years.
Eli: No. I'm done with violence solving problems. Money was cleaner.
Marcus: If you say so. But if he comes back, I'm not asking permission next time.
I look up from the phone.
"Who's Marcus Bennett?"
"My cousin. Lives in Boston. He's..." Eli hesitates. "He has connections. The kind that aren't exactly legal."
"Connections."
"Marcus works for people who handle problems. Debt collection. Enforcement. That kind of thing." His voice is careful. "When I told him about Carroway, he wanted to solve it his way. I said no. Said I'd handle it with money and lawyers."
"But?"
"But Monday night, after I got to Boston, Carroway showed up at my uncle's gym." Eli's expression hardens. "He'd been following me. Wanted to negotiate the payment terms. Thought he could squeeze more money out of me."
My stomach drops.
"What happened?"
"Marcus was there. He's the one who teaches boxing classes at my uncle's gym. And when Carroway started making threats, started saying things about you..." Eli flexes his injured hand. "Marcus didn't take it well."
"Eli. What happened?"
"There was a fight. Marcus threw the first punch. Carroway fought back. And I--" He stops. Swallows. "I joined in."
I stare at him.
"You beat up Carroway?"
"We roughed him up. Not badly. Just enough to make him understand the payment agreement wasn't negotiable. That harassing you wasn't an option anymore." His voice is flat. Clinical. "Marcus wanted to do worse. I stopped him. But yeah, I hit Carroway. Multiple times. That's where the bruised knuckles actually came from."
The car feels too small. Too hot despite the February cold outside.
"You promised no more secrets," I say quietly.
"I know."
"You told me the knuckles were from boxing practice."
"They were also from boxing practice. Just not the kind I made it sound like." Eli turns to face me. "I'm sorry. I should have told you upfront. But I knew how it would sound. Knew you'd think I was violent or reckless or--"
"I think you lied. Again." My voice rises. "We literally just had a whole conversation about honesty. About no more secrets. And the first chance you get, you hide something."
"I was going to tell you--"
"When? After how many more anonymous texts? After what other revelations?" I feel fury building. Hot and sharp. "What else aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing. That's everything."
"Is it? Because you've said that before." I grab the door handle. "I can't do this. I can't keep discovering new secrets every time I think we've finally reached the truth."
"Silver, wait--"
"No. You wait." I turn on him. "Do you understand what it's like to never know what's real? To constantly wonder what else you're hiding? To try to trust you and then find out there's always something more?"
"I'm trying to protect you--"
"I don't need protection! I need honesty!" My voice cracks. "I need to know that when you say 'no more secrets,' you actually mean it. Not 'no more secrets except the ones I think you can't handle.'"
Eli's jaw tightens.
"Carroway was threatening you. Threatening to do worse than just screenshots and rumors. Marcus heard him say things that made my blood run cold. So yes, I made sure he understood what would happen if he came near you again. And no, I'm not apologizing for that."
"I'm not asking you to apologize for protecting me. I'm asking you to stop treating me like I'm fragile." I feel tears threatening. Anger and hurt mixing until I cannot tell them apart. "You keep making decisions for me. Keep hiding things 'for my own good.' When are you going to realize that's not how partnerships work?"
"I know--"
"You don't know. Because if you knew, you wouldn't keep doing it." I grab my phone. Start typing. "I need space. I need to think."
"Silver, please--"
"What else?" I demand. "What else happened in Boston that you haven't told me?"
Eli goes very still. Too still.
"What else, Eli?"
"Nothing that matters."
"Let me decide what matters." My voice is steel now. "Tell me everything. Right now. Or I'm done."
He stares at me. Something flickers in his expression. Fear maybe. Or guilt.
"Carroway isn't the only person Marcus and I talked to," he says finally.
"Who else?"
"Someone who might have information about the screenshots. About who else was involved in spreading them." His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "But I can't tell you more than that. Not yet."
"Why not?"
"Because it's dangerous. Because the people involved aren't just college students playing games. They're adults with resources and connections and reasons to want you discredited." His voice is urgent now. "I'm working on getting proof. Real proof that would stand up legally. But until I have that, telling you details would just put you at risk."
"You're doing it again," I say. "Making decisions about what I should and shouldn't know."
"This is different--"
"It's not. It's the exact same pattern. You decide something is too dangerous or too complicated and you handle it alone. And then you expect me to just trust that you're doing the right thing." I open the car door. Cold air rushes in. "I can't be with someone who doesn't trust me back."
"I do trust you--"
"Then prove it. Tell me who you talked to. Tell me what you're investigating. Tell me everything, right now, without filtering it through what you think I can handle."
Eli's expression closes off.
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both." His voice is firm. Hard. "I won't risk you getting hurt because I told you something that could be used against you. I won't put you in danger just to prove I trust you. And if that makes me a liar or a bad partner or whatever you want to call me, fine. But I'd rather you hate me and be safe than love me and be in danger."
I feel like I have been slapped.
"That's not your choice to make."
"It is when I'm the one with the information and connections." His eyes are intense. "You want complete honesty? Fine. Here it is. There are people involved in your scandal who have money and power and no problem destroying anyone who gets in their way. Marcus knows some of them. Has worked for them. And he's helping me gather evidence that could actually bring them down. But if I tell you names right now, before we have solid proof, you become a liability. Someone they might target directly instead of through rumor and gossip."
"You're being paranoid--"
"I'm being realistic. And I'm asking you to trust that I know what I'm doing." His voice softens slightly. "Please. Just give me a few more days. Let me get the evidence together. Then I'll tell you everything. Show you everything. But right now, I need you to trust me."
"Trust you." I laugh bitterly. "The same trust you keep breaking?"
"I haven't broken your trust. I've protected you."
"By lying."
"By omitting. There's a difference."
"Not to me." I step out of the car. "Call me when you're ready to actually be honest. Until then, I can't do this."
"Silver--"
"I mean it, Eli. I love you. But love isn't enough if I can't trust you. And right now, I don't." I start walking. Back toward the road. Toward campus.
"You can't walk back. It's miles." He gets out of the car. "At least let me drive you."
"I'll call a rideshare."
"Silver, please--"
"No." I turn to face him. "You made your choice. You chose to protect me over being honest with me. And maybe that makes you a good person or a hero or whatever. But it doesn't make you someone I can be in a relationship with."
"So that's it? We're done?"
"I don't know." I pull out my phone. Start ordering a car. "I just know I can't keep having this same conversation. Can't keep discovering new secrets and being told it's for my own good. I'm exhausted, Eli. And I need space to figure out if this is something we can actually fix or if we're just going to keep hurting each other."
The rideshare app shows a car three minutes away.
Eli stands by his car, looking lost. Broken.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I thought I was doing the right thing."
"I know. That's the problem." I hug myself against the cold. "You always think you're doing the right thing. But you never ask what I think. What I want. What I need."
"What do you need?"
"I need a partner. Not a protector." I see headlights approaching. "I need someone who treats me like an equal. Who makes decisions with me, not for me. And I don't know if you're capable of that."
The rideshare pulls up. I open the door.
"Wait," Eli says. "Just, can we talk tomorrow? After you've had time to think?"
"I don't know." I get in the car. "Maybe. If you're actually ready to tell me everything. Not filtered. Not edited. Everything."
"And if I still can't?"
I look at him through the open door. At his bruised knuckles and desperate expression and the weight of everything unsaid between us.
"Then I guess we have our answer," I say quietly.
I close the door. The driver pulls away.
I watch through the back window as Eli stands alone in the parking lot, getting smaller and smaller until he disappears completely.
My phone buzzes.
Another message from the unknown number.
Smart girl. He's still lying to you. Want to know what really happened in Boston? Meet me at Koffee on Chapel. Tomorrow, noon. Come alone.
I stare at the message.
Someone wants to tell me the truth.
Someone who has been watching. Tracking. Sending cryptic warnings.
I should ignore it. Should tell Eli. Should let him handle whatever he thinks he is protecting me from.
But I am done being protected.
Done being kept in the dark.
If someone has answers, I am going to get them.
Even if Eli would not like it.