Chapter 244 Courage Felt Heavier Than Fear

Chapter 244 Courage Felt Heavier Than Fear
POV: Silver Preston
I wake up the morning after the parking lot reconciliation feeling like I have been hit by a truck. My body aches from standing in the cold. My eyes are swollen from crying.
But my heart feels lighter than it has in days.
Eli and I reconciled. We promised to try. We kissed and meant it.
Everything is going to be okay.
I reach for my phone. No new messages from Eli, but it is only 7 AM. I scroll up to find our last exchange from the parking lot.
Eli: Thank you for fighting for us. For not giving up. I love you.
Silver: I love you too. See you tomorrow?
Eli: Tomorrow. Promise.
I type: Good morning. Still on for today?
I wait. No immediate response. He is probably still asleep or at early morning practice.
I get ready for the day, humming under my breath. Americus raises an eyebrow from her bed.
"You're in a good mood. Does that mean last night went well?"
"He showed up. We talked. We're trying again." I pull on jeans. "We're going to make this work."
"Good. About time you two stopped being dramatic." She stretches, her braids spilling across the pillow. "So what's the plan? Grand romantic gesture? Matching tattoos?"
"None of the above. Just being together. Figuring it out day by day." I grab my backpack. "I'm meeting him after his morning practice. We're going to get breakfast and talk about what happens next."
"Look at you. Being mature and communicative. I'm so proud."
I leave for class feeling hopeful. Optimistic. Ready to make this work.
By lunch, that optimism has started to crack.
Eli still has not responded to my text. I have sent two more throughout the morning. Both delivered. Both read. No response.
Silver: Everything okay?
Silver: If you're busy, just let me know. Want to make sure we're still on for breakfast.
Nothing.
I try calling. Straight to voicemail.
"Maybe his phone died," Riley suggests at lunch. "Or he's in a meeting with his coach."
"For six hours?" I pick at my food. "Something's wrong."
"Or something's just busy." Maya's voice is reasonable. "He's probably dealing with hockey stuff. Draft prep. Whatever. Give him time."
But I cannot shake the feeling that something has shifted.
I go to the rink after my last class. Maybe he will be at afternoon practice.
The team is on the ice. I watch from the stands. Find Eli easily, number 17, moving across the ice with that controlled power I have always admired.
He looks fine. Focused. Not like someone whose phone died.
Practice ends. The team skates off. I wait by the locker room entrance.
Liam comes out first. Sees me. His expression flickers with something that looks like pity.
"Silver. Hey."
"Is Eli in there?"
"Yeah. But--" He hesitates. "Maybe give him some space right now. He's dealing with some stuff."
"What stuff?"
"Not my place to say. But he's under a lot of pressure. Just be patient with him."
My stomach drops.
"Did something happen? Is he okay?"
"He's fine. Just processing some big news." Liam squeezes my shoulder. "He'll reach out when he's ready."
He walks away before I can ask more questions.
Big news. Pressure. Processing.
What the hell is going on?
I walk back across campus, checking my phone obsessively. Still nothing from Eli.
I pass a group of students near the student center. Catch fragments of their conversation.
"--Hayes is going first round for sure--"
"--scouts were at practice today--"
"--heard he might leave Yale early--"
I stop. Turn around.
"What did you say?"
The students look surprised to be addressed. One of them, wearing a Yale hockey jersey, answers. "Eli Hayes? He's projected first round in the NHL draft now. Big jump from last month. Apparently scouts have been watching him closely."
"And the leaving Yale part?"
"There's a rumor he might declare for the draft early. Skip his senior year. Go pro next season instead of waiting." The guy shrugs. "Makes sense. Why stay in college when you can start making NHL money?"
I feel my world tilt.
"When was this announced?"
"This morning. There's an article on the athletic blog."
I thank them mechanically and pull out my phone. Search Eli Hayes NHL draft.
The first result is from this morning. A detailed analysis of his season, his stats, his potential. Quotes from unnamed scouts calling him "NHL-ready" and "a future franchise player."
And buried in the article: Sources close to Hayes suggest he's considering declaring for the draft early, potentially leaving Yale after this season to pursue professional opportunities.
I read it three times. Each time the words hit harder.
Eli is leaving. Maybe. Probably. And he has not told me.
We reconciled last night. Promised to try. Promised to communicate. And less than twelve hours later, he is potentially making life-altering decisions without even mentioning them to me.
I call him again. Voicemail.
Silver: We need to talk. I saw the article. Why didn't you tell me?
No response.
I go to the rink. Try the hockey house. Dead end after dead end.
I sit on a bench outside the library, phone in hand, panic rising.
This is the pattern repeating. Eli making decisions alone. Shutting me out. Disappearing when things get complicated.
We promised to be better. To not run. To communicate.
And he is already breaking those promises.
My phone buzzes. Finally. But it is not Eli.
Americus: Where are you? You missed dinner.
Silver: Looking for Eli. He's avoiding me.
Americus: Maybe he just needs time to process the draft news.
Silver: He should be processing it WITH me. Not avoiding me like I'm the problem.
I pull up my texts with Liam.
Silver: Where's Eli? I need to talk to him.
Liam: He asked for space. I think you should respect that.
Silver: I just want to know he's okay. That we're okay.
Liam: He's at the rink. Alone. But Silver, maybe don't--
I do not read the rest. Just start walking.
The rink is mostly dark when I arrive. Closed for the evening. I circle the building. Find a door propped open.
I slip inside.
The hallways are quiet. Empty. My footsteps echo on the concrete.
I push through the rink entrance doors.
The ice gleams under safety lights. And there, in the center, is Eli.
He is skating. Not practicing drills. Just skating. Long, smooth strides carrying him around in wide circles. Like he is trying to think through something too big for words.
He has not noticed me yet.
I clear my throat.
Eli startles. Looks up. Sees me. His expression moves through surprise, guilt, frustration, resignation.
"How did you get in here?" he asks.
"Side door was open." I walk closer to the boards. "You've been avoiding me all day."
"I haven't been avoiding you. I've been busy."
"Too busy to respond to a single text? Too busy to let me know you're okay?" My voice rises despite my attempts to stay calm. "We reconciled last night, Eli. Promised to communicate. And less than a day later, you're shutting me out again."
He skates to the boards. Stops in front of me.
"I'm not shutting you out. I just needed time to think."
"About what? The draft? Leaving Yale early? Making decisions that affect both of us without even mentioning them to me?"
"You saw the article."
"Half of campus saw the article. Everyone knows except apparently me, your girlfriend, who you're supposed to be communicating with." I feel tears threatening. "When were you going to tell me? Or were you just going to disappear one day and leave a note?"
"It's not like that--"
"Then what is it like? Explain it to me. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're doing exactly what you promised you wouldn't do. Making decisions alone. Shutting me out. Running away."
"I'm not running away. I'm trying to figure out my future."
"And I'm not part of that future?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. Your silence says it loud enough." I wipe my eyes angrily. "I fought for us, Eli. I wrote you that letter. I stood in the freezing cold waiting for you. I chose you even when it was scary and hard. And you--"
"I'm here, aren't I? I showed up last night. I chose you back."
"And then you disappeared again the next morning." My voice breaks. "How is that choosing me? How is that trying?"
Eli steps off the ice. Walks around to where I stand. Still in his skates, towering over me even more than usual.
"You want to know the truth?" His voice is rough. "I woke up this morning and panicked. Because last night was perfect. We reconciled. We kissed. We promised to try. And then reality hit. The article came out. Scouts started calling. My coach pulled me aside to discuss my options. And I realized--"
He stops. Swallows hard.
"Realized what?" I ask quietly.
"That choosing you might mean giving up everything I've worked for. And choosing hockey might mean losing you. And I can't figure out how to have both." His eyes are bright. "I thought I could. I thought we could make it work. But the more I think about it, the more impossible it seems."
I feel like I have been punched.
"So that's it? One day after we reconcile, you've already decided we can't work?"
"I didn't say that--"
"You just did. You said it's impossible. You said you can't figure out how to have both." I step back. "So which are you choosing? Me or hockey?"
"Why do I have to choose?"
"Because apparently you do. Because the world is making you choose. And I need to know where I stand." My voice is steady now. Cold. "Am I fighting for something real? Or am I fighting for someone who's already decided I'm not worth the complication?"
Eli stares at me. At the girl he caught on campus months ago. The girl he paid forty-five thousand dollars to protect. The girl he said he wanted forever with.
And he cannot answer.
The silence stretches between us. Heavy. Final.
"That's what I thought," I say quietly.
I turn to walk away.
"Silver, wait--"
"No." I stop but do not turn around. "You know what's cruel, Eli? Love on a deadline. Being told someone loves you but isn't sure if you're worth fighting for. Being promised forever and then watching them calculate whether you're worth the cost."
"It's not like that--"
"It's exactly like that." I look back at him. "And I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting for us while you keep one foot out the door. I'm tired of proving I'm worth choosing. I'm tired of being the thing you love but can't commit to."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying maybe you were right. Maybe love isn't enough. Maybe wanting each other isn't the same as being able to actually be together." I feel tears sliding down my face. "And maybe I need to stop waiting for you to figure that out."
I walk away. Out of the rink. Into the February night.
Behind me, I hear Eli call my name. Hear his skates hitting the rubber mat as he tries to follow.
But I do not stop. Do not turn around.
Because I had fought for him. Had been brave enough to risk everything.
And he still could not choose me.