Page 91 of Try Line Hearts
And worse—Eli wasn’t angry.
He wasn’t sulking. Wasn’t cold.
Careful.
Lucas understood then, in a quiet, sinking way, that Eli was protecting himself.
That night, his phone buzzed.
Eli: Some family in town from NZ. Thought I’d cook. You want to come over tomorrow?
Lucas stared at the message longer than he should have. He wanted to sayyes. Wanted to fix the distance with presence alone.
But his calendar was already full of holds and obligations he’d convinced himself were temporary.
Lucas: I’m sorry. PR booked me for an evening show. Can’t cancel.
The reply didn’t come right away.
When it did, it was brief.
Eli:Right. No worries.
No emoji. No joke.
Lucas set the phone down and told himself it was fine. Necessary. Temporary.
Just a little longer.
The realization came too late.
Lucas returned to the training facility after hours, intending to grab forgotten notes. The building was quiet, lights dimmed, the air heavy with disinfectant and old sweat.
Voices drifted from the lounge.
Eli’s voice.
Lucas stopped short, unseen.
“…do you think he’s just grown too big for us?” someone asked, half-joking, half-not.
There was a pause.
“I don’t know anymore,” Eli said.
No bitterness. No accusation.
Just fact.
Lucas stood there, heart hammering, and understood—with a clarity that felt like grief—that silence wasn’t patience.
It was erosion.
He had mistaken careful for kind.
And waiting hadn’t protected them.
It had hollowed something out.
