Chapter 227 Silence Is the Worst Noise

Chapter 227 Silence Is the Worst Noise
POV: Silver Preston
I stand outside Eli's dorm building, staring up at the third-floor windows. One of them is his. I cannot remember which one.
My phone buzzes. Eli: You coming up?
I have been standing here for five minutes. Maybe longer. Time feels strange.
Silver: yeah. sorry.
I push through the heavy door into the lobby. It smells like old carpet and that specific combination of cologne and microwaved pizza that seems universal to male dorms. A few guys I do not recognize nod at me as I pass. One of them does a double-take.
Great. Even here, people recognize me. The figure skater. The girl from the screenshots.
I take the stairs instead of the elevator. Need the extra minute. Need to organize my thoughts into something coherent instead of the mess of questions spiraling through my head.
Third floor. Down the hall. Room 312.
I knock.
The door opens immediately. Eli stands there, still in his coat, backpack at his feet. He looks tired. Older somehow, like the trip aged him.
"Hey." His voice is careful. Testing.
"Hey."
We stare at each other for a long moment. I try to read his expression. Try to find some clue about what he is about to tell me.
"Come in." He steps back.
His room is small. Single. The bed is made with military precision. Desk covered in textbooks and hockey gear. A few photos tacked to the wall. Team shots. Family. One of him and Liam after a game.
No photos of me. But then again, we have never really established what we are. Never put labels on it. Never made it official.
Maybe that has been the problem all along.
Eli shrugs out of his coat, tosses it on the bed. Runs a hand through his hair. He looks nervous.
Good. He should be nervous.
"So." I cross my arms. "Boston."
"Yeah. Boston." He leans against his desk. "I should have told you I was going."
"You should have told me a lot of things, apparently."
His jaw tightens.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I know about the agent. Brennan Sports Management. The representation agreement signed today." I watch his expression carefully. "The paperwork filed this afternoon."
Eli goes very still.
"How do you know about that?"
"Does it matter?"
"It matters if you've been spying on me."
"I wasn't--" I stop. Take a breath. "Americus found some things. After you disappeared this morning without telling anyone where you were going."
"So your roommate hacked into my financial records?" His voice is cold now. Sharp. "That's illegal, Silver."
"Don't turn this around. You lied to me."
"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you yet." He pushes off the desk, starts pacing. "There's a difference."
"Is there? Because it feels the same from where I'm standing." I feel my own anger rising to match his. "You signed with an agent. A major agent. Without saying a word to me about it."
"Because it's my career. My decision."
"I thought we were making decisions together now. I thought that's what you said after everything with Carroway. No more secrets."
"This isn't a secret. It's something I wasn't ready to talk about yet." He stops pacing, faces me. "I was going to tell you tonight. That's why I asked you to come over."
"What about the European team?" I push. "The emails. The negotiations about contracts and housing and start dates. You told me you turned them down."
His expression shifts. Something like guilt flickers across his face.
"I did turn them down. Initially."
"Initially."
"Things changed." He sits on the edge of his bed, suddenly looking exhausted. "The team dynamic changed. The draft projections changed. Everything changed."
"So you're leaving." The words come out flat. Final.
"I don't know." He looks up at me. "That's the truth. I don't know what I'm doing yet."
"But you're considering it. Going to Europe instead of staying for the draft."
"I'm considering all my options. That's what Brennan wanted to meet about. Laying out the different paths. What makes sense financially, career-wise, everything." His voice is measured now. Professional. Like he is explaining a business decision to a colleague. "The Swedish team is still interested. The offer is actually better than before. And with everything that's happened here, with the team falling apart and scouts losing interest--"
"Scouts are losing interest?" I interrupt.
He waves a hand.
"The team's record is tanking. I'm getting blamed for being distracted. My stock is dropping." He laughs, but there is no humor in it. "Apparently being in a relationship with you is bad for my focus. That's what Coach said."
I feel like I have been slapped.
"He blamed me?"
"He blamed both of us. Said I need to get my priorities straight. That I can't afford distractions if I want to go pro." His expression is carefully neutral. "And he's not wrong."
"So what are you saying?" My voice comes out quieter than I intend. "That I'm a distraction? That we're a mistake?"
"I'm saying it's complicated." He stands again, starts pacing again. "I went to Boston to meet with Brennan to figure out my options. See what makes sense. And he laid it all out, the draft projections if I stay at Yale, the guaranteed money if I go to Europe now, the risks either way. And I'm trying to make the smartest decision for my future."
"Without me in it."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." I feel something cracking in my chest. "You're planning your entire future without even asking what I think. Without considering that maybe your decisions affect me too."
"How can I consider you when I don't even know what you want?" His voice rises. "You won't commit to anything. Won't put a label on us. Won't tell anyone we're together. You keep one foot out the door at all times and then get mad when I make plans that don't revolve around you."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it? You spent weeks convinced I was the enemy. Let Carroway poison you against me. Believed every lie he told because it was easier than trusting me." He is standing close now, voice low and intense. "So forgive me for not building my entire future around someone who still isn't sure she wants to be with me."
I stare at him. At the anger and hurt and frustration in his expression. At the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face.
"I never said I didn't want to be with you," I say quietly.
"You never said you did either."
The silence stretches between us. Heavy. Suffocating.
"So what now?" I ask finally. "You go to Europe? We just end this?"
"I don't know." He sinks back onto his bed, head in his hands. "I don't know anything anymore. I'm trying to figure out what the right move is. For my career. For my future. For us, if there even is an us."
"There is." The words come out before I can stop them. "There is an us. Or there was. Before you started making plans to leave without telling me."
"I'm telling you now."
"After you already signed with an agent. After you already reopened negotiations with the Swedish team. After you already made all the big decisions without me." I feel tears burning behind my eyes. Refuse to let them fall. "You're telling me after it's already too late to change anything."
"What did you want me to do? Come to you with half-formed plans and maybes? Stress you out about decisions that might not even matter?" He looks up at me. "You're dealing with your own stuff. The scandal, your mom, your career. I didn't want to add my mess on top of yours."
"That's not your choice to make. You don't get to decide what I can handle."
"And you don't get to demand transparency when you've never given me any yourself."
We stare at each other. Two people who have been circling each other for months, getting close and then pulling away, never quite synchronizing.
"I should go," I say.
"Silver--"
"No. You're right. We don't know what we are. We never did. So maybe this is easier. You go to Europe. I figure out my skating. We both move on with our lives." The words hurt coming out. Like glass in my throat.
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know what I want anymore." I grab my coat. "Except maybe I want to be with someone who doesn't treat me like a complication to be managed."
"That's not what I'm doing."
"Isn't it?" I turn to face him one more time. "You met with an agent. You're negotiating overseas contracts. You're planning your exit. All without saying a word to me until I forced this conversation. That's exactly what you're doing."
Eli stands up. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks away.
"Yeah," I say softly. "That's what I thought."
I walk to the door. Hand on the knob. Waiting for him to say something. Anything.
He does not.
I step into the hallway. Pull the door closed behind me. Stand there for a moment, breathing hard, fighting tears.
My phone buzzes. Americus.
Americus: well??? Americus: what happened Americus: SILVER
I type back: he's leaving. going to europe. we're done.
The response is immediate.
Americus: WHAT Americus: get back here NOW
I walk down the hallway. Down the stairs. Out into the November night. The cold air hits my face like a slap.
I was right all along. Everyone leaves eventually. My skating career. My Olympic dreams. My mother's approval. And now Eli.
The one person I had started to believe might actually stay.
My phone rings. Americus. I silence it.
Another call. Riley this time. Silenced.
I just need to walk. Need the cold and the darkness and the silence that is somehow louder than any noise.
I cut across campus heading nowhere in particular. Away from Eli's dorm. Away from my own. Just away.
I pass the library, still lit up despite the late hour. Students visible through the windows, bent over books, living their normal lives with their normal problems.
I walk faster.
Past the student center. Past the dining halls. Toward the edges of campus where things get quieter. Darker.
I should go back to my dorm. Should let my friends comfort me. Should process this like an adult instead of wandering around in the dark.
But I cannot face them yet. Cannot face Americus's expression or Riley's sympathy or Maya's quiet understanding.
Cannot face the fact that I was stupid enough to fall for someone who was always going to choose his career over me.
My phone rings again. Unknown number.
I answer without thinking.
"Hello?"
"Silver Preston?" A woman's voice. Professional. Unfamiliar.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Amanda Chen. I'm a reporter with the New Haven Register. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about the recent allegations--"
I hang up. Stare at my phone in disbelief.
Reporters are calling me directly now. How did they even get my number?
Another buzz. A text from the same number: I understand this is a difficult time. But I think your side of the story deserves to be heard. Please consider reaching out.
I block the number.
Keep walking.
I end up at the edge of campus, near the athletic facilities. Ingalls Rink looms in the darkness. The Whale. Eli's domain.
I should turn around. Should go literally anywhere else.
Instead I walk toward it.
The main doors are locked, but the side entrance by the locker rooms is usually open late for team members. I try it. It gives.
Inside, the building is quiet. Empty. The fluorescent lights in the hallway buzz faintly.
I walk toward the rink entrance. Push through the doors.
The ice gleams under the safety lights. Empty. Perfect. Waiting.
I stand at the edge of the rink, hands gripping the boards, staring out at the ice that has been Eli's world for so long.
This is where he belongs. Not stuck at Yale dealing with drama and a girlfriend who could not even admit she wanted to be his girlfriend.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I never really committed. Never really let myself be all in.
Because I had known somewhere deep down that it would end like this. With him leaving and me alone.
"You're not supposed to be in here."
I spin around.
A security guard stands in the doorway. Older, with a kind face.
"Building's closed to non-team members after eight."
"I'm sorry. I just--" My voice catches. "I just needed to see it."
He studies me for a moment. Recognition flickers in his expression.
"You're the figure skater. The one from the news."
"Yeah." I look away. "That's me."
"My daughter used to skate. Just for fun. But she loved watching you." He steps into the rink area. "She's gonna be real disappointed when I tell her I kicked you out."
He almost smiles.
"How about I didn't see you. But you gotta be gone in fifteen minutes. Fair?"
"Thank you," I whisper.
He nods and leaves.
I turn back to the ice. Fifteen minutes alone with my thoughts and the wreckage of everything I had been trying to build.
I pull out my phone. Look at the messages I have been ignoring.
Americus: where are you??? Riley: Silver please answer. We're worried. Maya: Just let us know you're safe. Jordan: Heard things went bad. You ok?
And one from Eli, sent ten minutes ago.
Eli: I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to go like that. Can we talk?
I type back: there's nothing left to talk about. you made your choice.
I hit send before I can second-guess it.
Shove my phone in my pocket.
Fifteen minutes alone with the ice.
Then I will go back to my dorm. Let my friends pick up the pieces. Figure out how to move forward without him.
But for now I just stand at the edge of the rink, breathing in the cold air, listening to the silence.
The silence that is somehow so much louder than any noise.