Chapter 135 TOO BROKEN TO RETURN

Chapter 135 TOO BROKEN TO RETURN
Luca trudged down the hallway, every step weighing him down. His shoulder throbbed with that dull, nagging pain, and his head was a mess cold, loud, and filled with the memory of Jack's hands gripping his arms.

The carpet under his feet was threadbare and faded right down the middle. He pushed open the door.

The room didn’t have much light. Outside, the window was just a flat gray. The air hung still, carrying the faint trace of Jack’s shampoo. The blinds let slanted shadows fall across the floor.

On the desk, Luca spotted something: a protein bar his favorite kind, dark chocolate and sea salt.

Next to it sat an electrolyte drink. Blue, the only flavor he ever grabbed when he was too tired to care. Both lined up neat as anything.

No note.

Jack sat on his bed, back pressed against the wall, phone in his hand but not really looking at it. His thumb scrolled, but his eyes didn’t follow.

Luca just said, “Did you leave this?”

Jack looked up for a second. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

Jack shrugged. He tried to look casual, but you could see the tension in his neck, tight muscles kind of giving him away. “You didn’t eat lunch.”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “You don’t have to keep doing things for me.”

Jack met his eyes. “I know.”

Luca waited, but didn’t say anything, so Jack added, quieter now: “I’m not doing it because I expect something.”

The words landed and sort of hung in the air. The room felt smaller after that.

Luca said nothing back. He just crossed to the desk and grabbed the drink. The plastic felt cool in his hand.

He drank not out of forgiveness or resolve, just because he needed it and he was running on empty.

Jack didn’t look smug or pleased. He turned away, fixed his gaze on his phone, and his shoulders dropped the tiniest bit.



The next few days slid by in fragments.

In the locker room, noise filled the air, everyone shuffling and changing. Luca reached for his towel.

Nothing. His hand landed on the cold, empty bench. He dug around in his bag, found only his jersey.

He cursed, low.

Jack noticed from a few lockers over. Without a word, he pulled an extra towel from his own bag, holding it out clean, neatly folded.

Luca hesitated. “You carry extra towels now?”

Jack’s answer was flat. “Apparently.”

Luca took the towel. “Thanks.”

Jack just nodded.

On the ice, during a drill, Luca took a hard fall. His skates slipped, weight shifted wrong, and he hit the rink hard.

The sound traveled across the ice. He gritted his teeth, gloves scraping the white surface, helmet rattling.

Jack moved before he could stop himself, instincts firing. He skimmed across the ice toward Luca.

But Luca got up before Jack could reach him, pushing himself upright, knees wet and jersey crooked. His breath was heavy and ragged.

Their eyes met.

Jack stopped short, hand half-reaching out. There was barely any space between them. He saw the strain on Luca’s face, sweat beading on his brow.

Luca’s eyes searched his. He waited, body stiff.

Jack dropped his hand and backed away, skates grinding a sharp line into the ice.

Luca noticed. The fact Jack didn’t touch him said more than any words.

Luca glanced down at Jack’s hand, back at his face, and something shifted in his expression. He just turned, no comment.

In the cafeteria, everything blurred together in noise clatter, voices, bursts of laughter.

Luca sat with Kian and Sam, barely touching his food. Coffee sat cold on his tray. The whole room carried on, but he hardly heard any of it.

Jack chose another table. He didn’t stare, didn’t interrupt, just ate his food alone, slowly.

When Luca left, forgetting his gloves, Jack picked them up still warm, leather creased. He left them on a chair outside the rink. Nothing dramatic. Just a small gesture.

Later, the night felt too quiet.

Black window. A speckle of stars beyond. The building thrummed with the old heating system.

Luca lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling he knew every crack, the water stain that looked like a country map. His fingers traced the blanket’s seam.

On the other side of the room, Jack’s breathing sounded almost too even, like he was forcing sleep. He wasn’t sleeping. Neither of them was.

Luca finally broke the silence. “Jack?”

You could hear Jack stiffen a breath held, then his fingers gripped the sheet. “Yeah?”

Nothing followed. Just a tick from the nightstand clock and the building settling, a soft groan in the walls.

Luca swallowed. Gripped the blanket.

“Nothing,” he managed.

Jack stared upward. “Okay.”

The quiet came back, heavier.

Jack’s voice barely shimmered through the dark. “Goodnight, Luca.”

Luca shifted toward the wall, pillow rustling as he turned. “Goodnight.”

Jack shut his eyes.

And for once since the breakup, they were in the same room, not fighting.

Still, it felt like they were an ocean apart.