Page 87 of Shattered Hate

“It’s you.”

A tear slips from his eye and cascades down his cheek, soon followed by another. But he’s not sad. A warm smile spreadsacross his face, his eyes crinkling with joy. Mine remain fixed on him as my voice rings out from the screen.

“Can you come and tick number two of my list now, please? One is already done. I’ve already made you smile, now I need to tell you those three words to your face. Get off your ass and over those boards, and slide to me on the ice because I’m not telling you on a screen.” As the video fades, Dax jumps over the boards, his steps wobbly. Cope skates to him, holding his arm as if he might break. I roll my eyes as Daxton brushes Cope’s arm away. Dax skids to a stop right in front of me, gripping my arms with determination. I don’t steady him because he’s not fragile.

He’s Daxton. He’s mine.

“Say it,” he demands, his smile growing wider by the second. “Say it, Trayton.” He grins.

“Dax, I love you. I love you so fucking mu—” Before I can finish, Dax’s lips crash onto mine, his tongue exploring my mouth.

“I want to swallow those words and keep them inside me forever.” He breathes against my lips, holding my arms even tighter. Cheers erupt around us, our teammates surrounding us, and someone lifts Dax up, passing him around like a trophy because he is.

He’s my trophy. My life. My soulmate.

Epilogue

Daxton

Igaze up at the night sky, stars twinkling like diamonds. It was ten years ago today that I first met Trayton. A whole decade since I heard the door creak open behind me and saw a boy with the saddest eyes I’d ever encountered, staring at me wide-eyed. Ten years ago, when he asked if he could join me and I simply nodded.

Ten years since I fell in love with that smile he flashed as he sat down. A smile brighter than any star up there, more luminous than any light around.

He doesn’t realize it, but that night, he became my lighthouse. The beatings, the shouting, the way my dad and uncle forced me into their world of selling drugs—none of it mattered that night because of him.

I never told him, but that night, thoughts of how much it would hurt if I jumped couldn’t leave my mind. I was up here for that reason alone, yet fear held me back.

At eleven, I was already so weary of life.

He saved me in more ways than he could ever know that night. Because for the first time, hope stared back at me.

I sit with my hood up, knees drawn to my chest, looking at the trees and the shimmering water ahead.

I release a deep sigh and laugh. How did I get this lucky? I used to gaze at those trees, the water, and the lighthouse’s glow. It always reminded me of him. His eyes.

My Mystic Tealglow.

Whenever I sketched, I used those colors, and no matter how much I hated it, everything led back to him.

Hating him became easy because loving him felt impossible. Loving him was so hard.

But now, it’s as natural as breathing. He is the air I breathe.

It’s easy.

And loving him has never felt so right. The door creaks open behind me, and a smile sneaks onto my face as I settle into the same spot he found me in a decade ago. Draped in a black hoodie, hood up, I gaze at the stars above.

I peek over my shoulder, my face mostly hidden by the hood, just like always. I became a master at hiding, maybe too good at it.

“Can I sit with you?” he asks softly.

He remembers. He knows what today means. I grin and nod.

Tray sits beside me, leaving a gap between us—just like he did ten years ago. I recall the fear that gripped me back then. Strangers were a constant presence, but they were rarely kind. Tray, even at eleven, could have been any random stranger, much like those who bullied me at school. I was so thankful for that little space he left between us, even if his bright smile was anything but mean.

Now, I long to feel his warmth close by.

I glance at him, peeking out from under my hood. He looks straight ahead, mirroring my gaze.

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