Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (55)

“You don’t have to tell me. But whenever you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

This time it’s the gentle words that break the dam, rather than the weight of rejection. Tears spill down my face, and I can’t help the wobble of my lips. But Elias doesn’t leave, he stays. He stays and wipes my skin with a warm wet towel, and places a gentle hand on my neck.

I sniffle. “I don’t want to bore you.”

“You couldn’t if you tried.”

“I don’t think I can talk right now,” I finally admit.

“Then I will.”

My gaze snaps to him in pure shock. Elias offering information is a rarity. Not even when I spilled all my family history on our first date did he share anything. The man is a vault.

“Remember when you talked to my parents on the phone, and you asked who I took after?”

I nod.

“I’m adopted. The Westbrooks took me in when I was a kid, so that’s why I don’t look like them. I look exactly like my biological father. We even have the same name. That’s why everyone calls me Eli. I’m not exactly a fan of my full name.”

I wince, knowing I’ve adamantly called him that since the first day we met. He must see that I’m about to apologize for that because he cuts me off.

“I like it when you say it.”

I suppress an idiotic smile. “You’re giving me a lot of your firsts, Elias. Careful, or I might think you like me for real.”

“I do like you, Sage.”

My heart sings a happy tune when our eyes lock, and it makes me want to drop the weight from my shoulders. “My birthday is a week away,” I start. “Yet every year I get older, I’m always stuck in the same place. It feels like I’m always running but never getting anywhere.”

He listens intently.

“And I hate crying like this, but I wasn’t allowed to feel back then, so now when I have an emotion, I don’t suppress it. I could say my head hurts, and my mom would say she has chronic migraines. I would cry about my shitty ballet teachers, and she’d tell me she’s cried so much in her life that she’s run out of tears. She made it a competition, and sometimes it felt better to just lose.

“One of the reasons I joined ballet was to escape my house a few times a week. It was rough being around my parents when they fought, and it got worse when Sean was born. I felt powerless. Like I was too much, yet never enough. I could barely keep up with school and home life, but I knew if I let ballet go, I’d fall into the pit that they dug for me, and I’d never get us out. Lately it’s been feeling like I’m still there.”

Elias drops his hands to either side of me on the counter. “Sean is in a great school, and probably headed to an even better college. You’ve won awards, done so many showcases, and now you’re going to secure an audition for one of the most prestigious theaters in the world. You’re far from stuck.”

His words soak into me like warm oil.

“Your parents left you with a massive responsibility, yet you continue to blame yourself for them abandoning you and your brother. They decided drugs were more important than their children, and they left a fucking kid to take care of a kid.” He exhales harshly. “You persevered through all of it and came out as this strong, capable, beautiful woman. There is nothing about you that says you’re weak. That word doesn’t even belong in the same sentence when describing you.”

I take a hiccup of air, gulping it down like I’ve just resurfaced from the ocean. “Wow. You’re kind of good at this pep talk stuff.”

My whole life, I’ve been the one taking the lead. As exhausting as it is, there has never been a moment where I could turn that part of me off. It’s always felt like it’s me against the world, and it may be, but even the illusion of someone carrying the weight for me is enough to loosen the age-old knot in my stomach.

He rubs his thumb against my cheek. “It’s pretty damn easy when

I’m talking about you.”

I smile and so does he, and when there’s a knock at the bathroom door, he shoots me a look that asks if I’m okay, and I nod. So we head back out. Hand in hand.



SUMMER AND I retire to the balcony after dinner to watch the colorful skies slip away into darkness. The guys were complaining about having to head back to Dalton tomorrow morning, and I can’t help but miss all of them.

“You okay?” she asks, leaning against the black metal railing.

“Yeah. Elias kind of has a way with words.”

She nods. “He’ll always make sure the people he loves are cared for.”

This time, I don’t correct her. For once, I’d like to be included in that category, even if I know it’s not true.

“Sum,” Aiden calls her. “Remind Dylan why your dad does not like him.”

Summer glances back at me with an amused expression, then follows Aiden back inside.

I sit on the ground to watch the quiet sunset. This is a view I’ve never seen from my apartment. The most I could see was abandoned shopping carts and overgrown bushes.

“Saved you a cupcake,” Kian says when he steps onto the balcony.

He lowers to sit on the ground beside me, holding out a pink-frosted cupcake. I crack a half smile and take it from him. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. I’m not sure what it is, but his presence is oddly comforting.