Chapter 232 Envelopes Carried Weight

Chapter 232 Envelopes Carried Weight

POV: Silver Preston

I wake up with swollen eyes and a headache that feels like someone drove nails into my skull. My phone says 6:47 AM. Too early. But sleep is not coming back.

I cried myself to exhaustion last night. Americus stayed until almost midnight, holding me, not saying much. Just being there.

Riley and Maya came back eventually. We all sat in silence, the kind that felt supportive instead of awkward. Then one by one they drifted off to their own beds.

Now I lie in the early morning gray, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything.

I love Eli.

I said it out loud. Admitted it. Can never take it back.

And I have no idea what to do with that truth.

My phone buzzes. I ignore it. Probably more hate messages from people blaming me for Yale hockey's implosion.

The room is quiet. Americus snores softly across from me. Riley's breathing is steady and deep. Maya has her sleep mask on, dead to the world.

I need to move. Need to do something other than lie here spiraling.

I slip out of bed, grab clothes from my drawer. Pull on leggings and a sweatshirt. Find my sneakers.

Maybe a walk will clear my head.

I grab my keys and phone, step into the hallway.

The dorm is silent at this hour. Most students sleeping off the weekend. I walk down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. My footsteps echo in the stairwell.

Outside, the November morning is brutal. Cold bites through my sweatshirt immediately. I should have grabbed a coat.

Too late now.

I walk with no destination. Just putting one foot in front of the other. Watching my breath fog in the air.

Campus is beautiful at this hour. Empty and peaceful. Gothic buildings silhouetted against the lightening sky. Frost on the grass sparkling in the streetlamps.

I walk past the library. Past the student center. Find myself heading toward the athletic complex before I consciously decide to go there.

Ingalls Rink looms ahead. The Whale. Eli's world.

I stop at the edge of the parking lot. Stare at the building.

This is where he belongs. Where he is meant to be. Not tangled up with me and my mess.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out, expecting another anonymous hate message.

Eli: I know you're probably not ready to talk. But I need you to know something. Whatever you decide, I'll respect it. If you want to try again, I'm here. If you need space, I'll give it. If you want to be done, I'll accept that. Just please don't shut me out forever. Even if we can't be together, I don't want to lose you completely.

I read it three times.

I type back before I can overthink it: i'm not ready to talk yet. but i'm not shutting you out forever either. i just need time to think.

His response comes immediately.

Take all the time you need. I'll be here.

I shove my phone back in my pocket. Keep walking.

I end up back at my dorm without really remembering the route. Climb the stairs again. The hallway is still quiet.

Back in my room, my friends are starting to stir. Americus sits up as I enter, her braids wild, mascara smudged from last night.

"Where'd you go?" Her voice is rough with sleep.

"Walk. Needed air."

"It's freezing out."

"I noticed." I pull off my sweatshirt. My hands are ice cold. I had not even felt it while walking.

She watches me.

"You okay?"

"No. But I will be." I grab my shower caddy. "I'm going to shower. Try to feel human again."

The bathroom is empty. I stand under hot water until my skin turns pink. Try to wash away the exhaustion and confusion and weight of everything.

When I get back to the room, Riley is making coffee in the illegal Keurig. Maya is scrolling through her phone, frowning.

"What?" I ask.

"More blog posts about the game. More people blaming you." Maya shows me the screen. I do not look closely. Do not need to.

"Let them blame me." I pull on clean clothes. "I can't control what people think."

"That's surprisingly mature," Americus observes.

"Yeah, well. I'm tired of caring what strangers think." I grab my backpack. Start organizing notebooks for Monday classes. "I have enough real problems without worrying about internet opinions."

Riley hands me coffee.

"What are you going to do? About Eli?"

"I don't know yet." I take a sip. Too hot, but I do not care. "Coach Morrison said we need to really talk. Figure out what we both want. But I'm not ready for that conversation yet."

"What would make you ready?" Maya asks gently.

"Understanding what actually happened. Not just his version or my version." I set down my coffee. "I need to know the truth. All of it. Before I can decide anything."

"So ask him," Riley suggests.

"I tried. He keeps saying he'll explain. But it's always vague or incomplete or interrupted." I sit on my bed. "I need something concrete. Something real."

Americus perks up.

"Are you asking me to do more detective work?"

"No. I'm saying I need to find answers myself. Not through hacking or spying." I look at her seriously. "I need to see something real. Something that proves what's true and what's a lie."

"And where are you going to find that?" Maya asks.

Good question.

I think about all the pieces that do not fit. The agent meeting. The European contracts. Carroway's cryptic warnings. The coach's revelations about the Swedish deal.

Too many versions of the same story. Too many half-truths and omissions.

"I don't know," I admit. "But there has to be something."

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. I open it warily.

Unknown: You wanted the truth about Hayes? Check the trash in his dorm room. Third floor, room 312. He's at practice until noon. Plenty of time.

I stare at the message.

"What the hell?"

"What?" Americus leans over to look.

I show her.

"That's either really helpful or a really obvious trap," she says.

"Who would send that?" Riley frowns.

"Someone who wants me to find something," I say slowly. "Or someone who wants to get me caught breaking into Eli's room."

"Could be Carroway," Maya suggests. "Setting you up."

"Or it could be someone on the hockey team who knows something." Americus pulls up a tracking app. "Let me check if Eli's actually at practice."

"How do you--never mind. I don't want to know."

"He's at practice," she confirms. "Location shows him at the rink. Has been for the past hour."

"So the message is accurate about that part at least," Maya says.

I look at my three friends.

"This is a terrible idea, right?"

"Absolutely," Riley says.

"Completely stupid," Maya agrees.

"Obviously a trap," Americus adds. Then grins. "When are we going?"

"We're not--"

"You're not going alone," she cuts me off. "If this is a setup, you need witnesses. If it's real, you need backup. Either way, we're coming."

"I can't ask you to--"

"You're not asking. We're telling." Riley stands up, grabs her coat. "Let's go before I change my mind."

We walk across campus to Eli's dorm. Monday morning means most students are in classes or sleeping off the weekend. The lobby is empty when we enter.

My heart pounds as we climb to the third floor. This is stupid. Probably illegal. Definitely a violation of Eli's privacy.

But I need to know.

Room 312. The door is closed. I try the handle.

Locked.

"Of course it's locked." I step back. "Okay. This was dumb. Let's go."

"Hold on." Americus pulls out her student ID. Starts working it into the doorjamb.

"What are you doing?"

"These old locks are easy to pop. Just need the right angle--" Click. The door swings open. "There."

"That's breaking and entering," Riley hisses.

"Only if we break something. We're just entering." Americus pushes into the room.

I hesitate at the threshold. This feels wrong. Invasive.

But I have come this far.

I step inside.

Eli's room is exactly as I remember from Friday night. Military-neat bed. Textbooks stacked on the desk. Hockey gear in the corner. Photos on the wall.

"Check the trash," Maya says quietly, standing guard at the door.

I find the small trash can beside his desk. It is mostly empty. A few crumpled papers. An empty energy drink can.

I pull out the papers. Smooth them out.

They are letters. Drafts of letters, handwritten in Eli's scrawl. Multiple versions of the same thing, each one crossed out and rewritten.

I read the first one.

Silver,

I don't know how to explain this in a way that doesn't sound like excuses. I met with Brennan Sports Management because I needed advice. Not about leaving, about staying. About whether it's possible to have both, the hockey career and you. He said it's not. That relationships are distractions. That I need to choose.

I'm choosing you.

Crossed out with angry strokes.

The second draft:

Silver,

I've been talking to lawyers. Not for anything bad. For something I should have done months ago. Carroway has been threatening me. Trying to blackmail me about something that happened freshman year. Something I was trying to protect you from knowing. But I'm done with secrets. I'm done letting him control the narrative.

I paid him off. Used money I'd been saving for after graduation. It was worth it to get him away from you.

Also crossed out.

The third attempt:

Silver,

There's so much I should have told you from the beginning. About my dad. About why I can't handle people leaving. About why I push away anyone who gets too close. You asked me once why I don't let people in. The truth is I'm terrified. My dad died and I wasn't there. I was at a hockey game. Chose the game over seeing him one last time. And I've never forgiven myself.

I can't lose you the same way. Can't choose hockey over you and regret it forever.

This one has tear stains. Actual tear stains on the paper.

My hands shake as I read the fourth draft:

Silver,

I know you think I was planning to leave. The truth is messier. I was keeping options open because I'm a coward who's scared of making the wrong choice. The Swedish team offered guaranteed money. Security. But it meant leaving you. Brennan said I should take it. Said relationships end but careers are forever.

I told him he was wrong. Because I'd rather risk my career for a chance with you than play it safe and lose you. Even if that makes me stupid. Even if it means my draft stock tanks.

You're worth the risk.

There are more drafts. Each one trying to explain. Trying to be honest. None of them sent.

"What do they say?" Americus asks quietly.

"He was trying to explain everything. About Carroway. About his dad. About the Swedish contract." My voice is thick. "He paid Carroway off. Used his savings. To protect me."

"Holy shit," Maya breathes.

"And there's more." I find another paper. This one looks more official. A copy of a legal document.

I scan it. Freeze.

"What?" Riley leans over my shoulder. "Oh my god."

The document is a payment agreement. Between Eli Hayes and Weston Carroway. Dated two weeks ago. The sum: $45,000.

In exchange for Carroway ceasing all harassment and removing all fabricated evidence against Silver Preston.

"He paid forty-five thousand dollars?" Americus's voice is strangled. "Where did he even get that kind of money?"

I keep reading. Find another paper. A withdrawal notice from Eli's savings account. Money he had been saving since high school. Money meant for after graduation. For starting his professional life.

Gone. All of it. To buy Carroway's silence.

"This is why he went to Boston," I say slowly. "Not just to meet with Brennan. To finalize the payment. To make sure Carroway would actually stop."

I find one more letter. This one different from the others. Dated yesterday.

Silver,

I know you probably hate me right now. I know I messed everything up by not being honest from the start. But I need you to understand something.

I didn't pay Carroway off to manipulate you. I didn't do it expecting you to owe me or feel obligated. I did it because you deserve to not live under constant attack. You deserve to focus on your skating and your life without someone actively trying to destroy you.

The money doesn't matter. My draft stock doesn't matter. Hockey doesn't matter if you're not okay.

You asked me once what my priorities were. Here's my answer: You. Always you.

Even if you never forgive me. Even if we never talk again. I'd make the same choice.

\-E

My vision blurs. I cannot breathe.

Forty-five thousand dollars. His entire savings. His safety net. Gone.

For me.

"We need to go," Maya says urgently from the door. "Someone's coming down the hall."

We scramble up. I shove the papers back in the trash, try to make everything look undisturbed.

We slip out of the room just as voices echo down the hall. Americus pulls the door closed behind us, makes sure it locks.

We hurry down the stairs, out of the building, across campus.

My mind is reeling. The letters. The payment agreement. The proof that everything Eli said was true, and more than he ever said.

He sacrificed everything. And never told me.

Back in our dorm room, I collapse on my bed. Still holding the mental image of those letters. Those tear-stained confessions.

"He mentioned lawyers," Americus says quietly. "The papers mentioned lawyers handling the payment agreement with Carroway."

I nod numbly.

Eli hired lawyers. Made legal agreements. Protected me in ways I never knew.

And I had walked away thinking he was the liar.