Page 72 of Before We Break Again
“What about you?”she asks, shifting the conversation toward me.“How are things going with therapy?You look good—like you’re getting stronger.”
I let out a small sigh, glancing down at my hands before looking back at her.“Therapy’s ...working.I mean, I can feel it helping, you know?My leg’s getting better, little by little.But it’s not fast enough.I want to be on the ice again, and it feels like no matter how hard I push myself, it’s never fast enough.It’s frustrating.”
She reaches across the table, her fingers brushing against mine, and I immediately feel calmer, like her touch pulls me back from the edge of that frustration.“You’ll get there,” she says softly.“I know it feels like forever right now, but you’ve made so much progress already.You have to give yourself credit for that.”
I nod, trying to take her words to heart, but it’s hard.“I know.But I feel like I’m falling behind.I watch the guys practicing without me, and it’s like ...I should be there, you know?Not stuck in therapy, learning how to walk all over again.”
She squeezes my hand gently, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.“You’re not falling behind, Santos.You’re healing.That’s just as important as skating.”
“Yeah, well ...patience has never been my strong suit.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.“It’s more than just the physical part, though.My head’s been all over the place.Therapy’s been making me face a lot of stuff I haven’t dealt with.My dad ...the pressure he put on me growing up.It’s like his expectations are always there.And every time I don’t meet them, even now, it’s like I can hear his voice telling me I’m not good enough.”
Halsey’s face softens, her expression filled with understanding.“I know how hard it is.You’ve been carrying that pressure for a long time, San.But it’s okay to let some of it go.”
“I’m trying,” I admit, my voice dropping slightly.“It’s just ...the anxiety.It’s always there.Every time I’m not on the ice, it feels like I’m wasting time, like I’m failing somehow.Even though logically, I know I need this recovery time, it’s like ...I can’t shut it off.”
Her hand is still on mine, and she squeezes it a little tighter.“You’re not failing.You’re doing everything right.The anxiety is real, but it doesn’t get to define you.You’re more than that.”
For a moment, we just sit there, the soft murmur of the restaurant filling the space around us, but it feels quiet, like the world has paused just for us.And in that moment, I realize how much I need her—how much I’ve always needed her.
ChapterThirty-Seven
Dustin
The car rumblesquietly as I drive through the winding roads of Baker’s Creek, the late afternoon light casting a golden hue over the evergreens that line the way.Santos sits next to me in the passenger seat, relaxed after his lunch with Halsey.He’s quiet, but it’s not the heavy kind of silence that’s been following us lately.It’s a peaceful one, like the tension we’ve all been feeling has eased, at least for a little while.
I glance over at him, my fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel.“So, lunch with Halsey went well, huh?”Things with Hals are going well and us ...okay, I’m a little jealous because they are fixing their shit faster than I’m fixing it with them.
Sleeping next to them is torture because I know that the next morning they’ll be fucking and I’ll be thinking about it while cleaning horse shit—literally.And what am I supposed to do?It’s not like they don’t invite me, they do.I just need to be in a good place to let myself love them—and love me.
Fuck, will that ever happen?
“It was nice.We talked about a lot of stuff.She’s ...she’s good at making me feel like things will be okay, you know?”
“Yeah, she’s good at that.”I clear my throat, breaking the comfortable silence.“Hey, um ...what do you think about us going on a date?”
”A date?Like are you getting me flowers too?”Santos turns his head toward me, a bit surprised.
“Yeah, if you want,” I say, suddenly a little nervous now that it’s out there.“I mean, we’ve never really ...done that, have we?Like, a real date.Just the two of us.”
He’s quiet for a second, like he’s thinking it over, and then a slow smile spreads across his face.“No, we haven’t.But I’d like that.”
I can’t help but grin, relieved he’s on board.“Yeah?I was thinking maybe we could go out tomorrow.Just you and me.We could go to Portland or ...anywhere you want really.”
Santos leans back in his seat.“I’d like that a lot, Dust.”
“We’ll be seen,” I warn him.
“Yes, and maybe someone will catch us kissing again,” he teases.“But this time, you don’t have to call Gavin to clean it up.This time maybe he’ll just say we were out and our beautiful, loving girlfriend stayed home for the night.”
I blink, feeling a rush of emotions I didn’t expect.“Are you sure you’re ready for that?”I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, but the hope is already rising inside me.
“I’m ready to come out as the queerest player in the league,” he says with a playful grin.“And if they don’t like it, well, I’ll quit.You’ll have to hire me as a farmhand.Maybe we’ll get an alpaca or two like Halsey wants.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, but underneath it, there’s so much more—relief, joy, a sense of freedom I hadn’t even realized I was waiting for.The idea of being with him, openly, of not hiding anymore—it feels huge.
