Page 4 of Actions and Reactions (All It Takes #5)

For the first fifteen years of my life, that was what I asked every time Silas said anything I disagreed with.

And he used to do the same.

According to our mothers it started when we were three and, like every other kid in the world, began to question everything.

We would ask everyone about everything, and eventually, we only asked each other.

“Why am I gay or why haven’t I told anyone?” he asks back.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” I deadpan. This time he actually chuckles.

It sounds just the same as it always has.

A slow chuckle that sounds like a breeze at the beach—natural, inevitable, and peaceful.

“I haven’t told anyone because I haven’t had a reason to.” I nod at that, but the thought that pops into my mind right after clings to me along with the shame I feel from it.

In a very me gesture, I ask without thinking.

“Did you tell your parents why we ... what I said in?—”

“No,” he interrupts and shakes his head vehemently. Then he stops moving suddenly. “Did you?”

“I only told Lex after I was drafted,” I admit in a whisper. That was more than two years after everything happened, and that night...

I see he understands when he flattens his lips and tension appears in the corners of his eyes. My draft is a sore spot for him too, then.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go.” He speaks just as low as I did, but my throat closes as the memory resurfaces.

When his parents showed up at the draft and he didn’t, it felt like the final nail in the coffin of... us.

I wonder now if I was right, and this thing—us talking things through—will help repair what we broke, or if it might just be a way for us to heal a little bit and finally move on.

I don’t know how we could ever go back to the way we were.

He missed my draft.

I didn’t go to his college graduation.

We haven’t even congratulated each other on any of our last seven birthdays, when before we celebrated each one together.

Before my mind can spiral down that depressing rabbit hole any further, I force the conversation forward.

“So, do you think our moms planned this whole trip so we’d talk?”

He takes a deep breath and seems relieved about the subject change too.

Another reminder that I still know him better than I know myself. I guess people don’t change that much after all.

“I think so, yes,” he says at last. “Though they might want to check up on Lex as well.”

“That makes sense,” I muse. “Mom told me how he was planning on staying at school the whole summer.”

“Well, he wants to enter the draft next year, so I suppose it makes sense that he’s so focused on hockey.”

His tone is forced right now, and I really don’t want to focus on why too much. I know why. Anyone with a shred of common sense would know why.

“The thing is, according to what I’ve heard, neither of our moms think it had anything to do with hockey,” I say just to keep the conversation away from touchy subjects.

I know why Lex wanted to stay away from New York and Mom’s house this summer, but I’m not about to tell Silas why. Not because I don’t trust him, but because... well, it really doesn’t seem smart to talk about teen crushes with him.

Ever.

Lex will turn seventeen in a few weeks, and though I’ve stayed out of it and offered him my silent support, I don’t want him to suffer from heartache before he’s even an adult—like I did.

Though something tells me he already is…suffering that is.

“How long are you able to stay at the cabin?” Silas asks, and brings me back to the present. I try not to show how I feel about the fact that he sounds awkward and stilted, and instead sigh exaggeratedly in resignation.

“Probably a week,” I tell him honestly. “I want to get back into shape before early training starts.”

He smiles and nods but I can tell it’s not genuine.

“And speaking of... I need to eat something.” I turn and dig around in my duffel for the big-ass tupperware of pasta my chef left ready for me this morning. “How about you?” I ask while I get everything ready to eat.

“I was thinking a week too. I have a few projects lined up to start in the third week of July, and I want those done before everyone gets back mid-August.”

“Oh yeah?” That piques my interest. “Like what?” I look up quickly and see him smirking—the cocky one he was always flashing around when we were growing up.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he murmurs, and fuck that’s alluring. Addicting.

It’s the kind of tone that drove me up the walls when I was a teenager, and one of the things that made me fall in love with him in the first place.

I remain speechless until it’s too awkward to continue that conversation, so I just stretch my lips into the least authentic smile ever and focus on my food.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see him stand and reach for his bag that’s in the seat behind him.

“I brought cards,” he says softly. “How about a game of Gin?”

Even while I’m still chewing I smirk.

I nod and hurry to swallow.

“I’ll beat your ass in no time,” I tell him and gesture at the tupperware.

“You’ll try,” he says, that cocky smirk coming out again.

Okay, he might have a few advantages.