62

62
Silas clenched the sheets in his fists, chest aching as the words he’d just spoken echoed too loud in his head. Leave… stay away…

But as the door clicked shut and Mateo’s footsteps faded down the hall, something inside him screamed the opposite.

Go after him. Stop him. Grab him. Kiss him. Hug him. Don’t ever let him go.

His throat tightened. His body screamed to get up, to run, to call his name back before it was too late. But he stayed frozen, eyes burning, heart pounding against the cage of his ribs.



Mateo didn’t linger. His jaw was tight as he walked to the counter, pulling out his black card with a clipped movement.

“I’ll settle his bills,” he told the nurse, voice low, controlled, betraying nothing of the storm in his chest.

The nurse blinked, then nodded quickly, processing the payment while Mateo’s gaze drifted once toward the closed door of Silas’s room. His fingers tapped against the counter, restless, as if fighting the urge to turn back.

“Everything’s cleared,” the nurse said, handing him the receipt.

Mateo gave a curt nod, slid the card back into his wallet, and turned away.


The door creaked open, and the nurse stepped in with a small tray of pills and a glass of water.

Silas straightened a little, embarrassed by the state of himself. His voice came out quiet, almost defensive.
“I promise I’ll find a way to settle the rest of my bills… just give me a little more time.”

The nurse’s lips curved into a soft smile as she shook her head.
“No, Mr. Reeds. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. You’re so lucky… your bills have already been taken care of.”

Before Silas could ask, she placed the pills by his bedside and slipped out, leaving him in stunned silence.

Silas let out a long breath, rolling his eyes at himself.
“Was I too rude?” he muttered under his breath. “I should have given him a chance… or at least listened. He looked… pathetic.”

The weight of his own words lingered, heavy in the quiet room.

Silas swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as a sharp ache shot through his ribs.

He pressed his palm to the mattress, trying to push himself upright. His knees wobbled the moment his feet touched the cold floor.

“I probably need… a work,” he muttered to himself, every word strained with effort.

The door clicked open just then, and the nurse walked in, catching sight of him half-standing, half-collapsing. Her brows pinched together.
“Are you sure about that?” she asked, stepping quickly toward him. “You haven’t even been discharged yet.”

Silas gritted his teeth, forcing himself a little straighter though the pain was clear on his face.
“I can’t just sit here. I need to move, to… do something.”

The nurse’s eyes softened, but her tone stayed firm.
“You’ll only tear yourself apart if you push too soon. At least let your body heal before you go chasing work.”

Silas sank back down, frustrated, fists tightening on the sheet.

Silas lay back against the stiff hospital pillow, exhaustion dragging at every bone. He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would take him fast.

But when his lashes fluttered open again, his breath caught.

There—just beyond the curtain—stood Mateo. His broad back filled Silas’s vision, shoulders flexing as he bent slightly over the counter. The faint clink of cutlery, the quiet scrape of a knife. He was… cooking.

Silas blinked hard. No. This can’t be real.

Mateo’s hand lifted, rolling up his shirt sleeves, veins shifting as though he’d done this a hundred times before. He glanced over his shoulder, lips quirking in that soft, infuriating way Silas knew too well.

Silas’s chest tightened. His fingers gripped the blanket. Why does it feel so real?

“I must be going crazy…” he whispered into the silence. His throat worked as his vision wavered. Is this what I want so badly that I’m seeing him here—like this? Like he belongs?

He shut his eyes tight again, but Mateo’s image lingered, as vivid as the ache in his heart.

Silas tossed restlessly, sweat dampening his temple. He tried to shut out the image, but the harder he fought, the sharper it became.

Mateo wasn’t just cooking anymore. His shirt was gone, muscles all out his back sculpted with every shift and stretch. Silas’s breath caught as Mateo turned, eyes dark, gaze fixed on him in a way that sent heat flooding his veins.

The blanket suddenly felt too heavy, his skin too hot. God, what is happening to me?

He squeezed his eyes shut, but when they opened again, Mateo was closer—so close Silas swore he could feel his breath on his lips. His mind spun with flashes of hands gripping his waist, lips ghosting over his neck, that low, husky voice whispering his name.

“No…” Silas gasped, dragging himself upright, his pulse hammering wildly.

“No—no, this isn’t real. I’m… I’m losing it.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, desperate for air, for escape. His nails dug into the sheets.
“I need to see him,” he whispered hoarsely, heart pounding. “I need to see Mateo…”

Silas slipped his legs over the side of the bed again, moving slower this time, biting back every groan that threatened to betray him.

“One last time, Mateo… before I go,” he whispered under his breath, clutching the rail for balance.

The floor was cold beneath his bare feet as he shuffled toward the door, each. He pulled the door open just enough to slip out, wincing at the faint squeak of the hinges.

The corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit, and dead silent. Silas leaned against the wall, his breath shallow. Just a little further. I need to see him. I need…

Suddenly, footsteps echoed. A nurse on night duty turned the corner, clipboard in hand, her eyes scanning the hallway.

Silas froze, pressing himself against the wall, chest heaving.

His pulse thundered in his ears as the nurse’s shoes snapped closer. He held his breath, praying she wouldn’t notice the shadow where he stood.

The nurse paused, looking around with a faint frown, before shaking her head and continuing past.

Silas sagged against the wall, trembling. He clenched his jaw, forcing his feet to move again.
“Mateo… just one last time,” he whispered, slipping deeper into the shadows.