Windsor/Capulato Saga Book 2: Talk To Me
著者
Autumn Ferris
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52.9K
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Emily has spent her life trying to outrun the pressure of being born into a famous hockey family. Once, her best friend Seth is the one person who makes her feel seen—until high school pressure pulls him away and shatters her heart. Years later, she returns home to care for her mother, hoping for calm. Instead, she walks straight into Seth on campus, and every old feeling comes rushing back. Now they must face the silence, the hurt, and the sparks that never really faded. As they circle each other again, Emily wonders if second chances can truly heal the wounds she never dared to touch.
Chapter 1: Back Home
EMILY
The second I step off the plane, the cold hits me—sharp, familiar, and almost grounding—and I know I’m home. I tug my sleeves down over my wrists out of habit, hiding the scars even though no one’s looking. My heart thuds as I scan the crowd. My eyes find my dad instantly.
He’s leaning against his truck, leather jacket creased at the elbows, phone in hand. His hair is a little more salt-and-pepper than I remember, but the grin that spreads across his face when he sees me is the same.
“Dad!” I call, breaking into a run.
He doesn’t even have time to pocket his phone before I crash into him. His arms wrap around me, solid and familiar, and a soft laugh rumbles from his chest.
“Hey, sweetheart. Missed you.” He lifts me off the ground, spins me once, then sets me down like he’s trying to memorize every change in my face. “What were they feeding you at that school? You look like the only thing you got back there was sunshine.”
I roll my eyes, swatting at his hand when he ruffles my hair. “Ha-ha, very funny.” I bend to pick up his fallen phone. “Seriously, Dad, still no case? Mom’s going to give you so much shit about that.”
“Oh, hush,” he says, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “It was already cracked anyway. Haven’t you learned not to pick on your elders? Didn’t that fancy college teach you anything?”
I laugh, hugging him again. “I missed you, Dad. How’s Mom?”
His expression softens. “She’s doing a lot better. No relapses since they adjusted her meds. And like you asked, no one knows you’re home for Christmas.” He grins, proud of himself.
“So where do they think you are?” I tease, buckling my seatbelt.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Your mom’s probably a little mad at me,” he admits. “Told her I had last-minute stuff for the youth league.”
I laugh, climbing into the passenger seat. “You think she bought that?”
“Not for a second,” he admits, sliding behind the wheel. “She ran those teams for years before I retired. She knows better.”
Dad called a few weeks ago, his voice tight with worry. Mom’s MS had been flaring again, and he thought it was getting worse. I didn’t hesitate. If she needs me, I’ll be there.
Amaya and Andrew are already home, handling things the way they always do: steady, reliable, and protective. I’ve missed them more than I’ll admit. It’s been almost a year and a half since I last saw my family. Too long.
Only Dad knows I’m coming. He wanted it to be a surprise for Mom, and I agreed. The thought of her face when she sees me makes me smile.
I shipped most of my stuff ahead to campus; it’s only a thirty-minute drive from home. Close enough to help, far enough to breathe. I smile, settling into the seat as he starts the engine. The truck hums to life, and for a moment, everything feels right again: familiar, safe, whole.
He glances at the single bag I tossed in the back. “Just the one?”
“Yeah. I shipped the rest to the dorms,” I say, hoping he doesn’t catch the hesitation. “Didn’t want to make things harder at home while Mom’s resting.”
He nods, satisfied. “Well, I hope you visit more often now. Your mother misses you, Em.”
“I will,” I promise, though the words feel heavier than they should.
He glances over. “Which college did you transfer to again?”
“Northern Central.” I lean back, turning off Airplane Mode on my phone.
Dad smiles, eyes still on the road. “That’s where Seth plays,” he says lightly. “Guess you’ll know someone.”
The words hit like a slap. I stare straight ahead, pretending the name doesn’t sting. Snow blurs into streaks of white outside the window. Of course he plays there. Of course the universe couldn’t let me have one clean escape.
And just like that, my whole plan to avoid the bane of my existence goes up in smoke.
Dad’s voice fades into the hum of the truck as we pull onto the highway. Snow streaks across the window in soft, blurry lines, and for a moment, everything feels too quiet. Too still. The heater hums, the air smells faintly of leather and cold.
And the memories I’ve tried to bury claw their way back.
Seth Capulato. My best friend. My almost-everything. Until he wasn’t. Our birthdays were four days apart. We grew up next door. Our parents were practically family. I fell for him before I even knew what falling meant.
And then freshman year happened. Homecoming night. The party. The text from his phone. His girlfriend’s hands in my hair, slamming me into a wall. Her words, sharp, cruel, and meant to cut deeper than her slap.
And Seth…walking in just in time to see me swing back. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t see the blood on my lip. He just saw me fighting and decided I was the problem. He tore into me with words sharper than any hit I’d ever taken on the ice.
I left before he could finish. He tried to talk to me afterward, sober, apologetic, maybe even scared, but I ignored him. I’d been taught that a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.
And the last thing he said to me that night? Slurred. Broken. The echo of that night I’ve tried so hard to forget.
“I wish we’d never become friends.”
The memory slices through me like glass. My breath catches. I blink hard, forcing the echo back into the dark corner it crawled out of. My fingers tighten around the seatbelt.
The sound isn’t real, but it feels real enough to make my chest ache.
That night marked the start of my spiral. Seth stood by while his friends mocked me, shoved me, and laughed. I fought back until fighting became the only thing I knew how to do.
I started getting suspended, hiding bruises, hiding everything. I never told my parents. I couldn’t.
I still don’t know what hurt more: losing him or feeling like he never really saw me at all. I spiraled for a while after that, letting the silence between us swallow me whole. Somehow, I still kept my grades up and made it to college.
Maybe that was my way of proving I could survive without him, that I could stand on my own, even if it meant standing alone.
Now we’re twenty-one. I swallow, staring out at the snow-covered trees rushing past.
“Em?” Dad’s voice cuts through the fog in my head. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie softly. “Just tired.”
He nods, buying it, or choosing to. “Well…I should probably warn you about something.”
My stomach tightens.
“Seth’s staying with us through the holidays,” Dad says casually, like he’s mentioning the weather. “Keith and Sasha are out of town visiting family, and we didn’t want him to be alone.”
My heart drops straight into my boots. “Oh,” I say, the word barely a breath.
Dad keeps talking, something about how it’ll be nice to have everyone together, but I can’t hear him anymore. All I can hear is that drunken voice echoing in my head, the one that told me he wished we’d never been friends.
I exhale slowly. Coming home was supposed to be about being close for my mom.
But some ghosts don’t wait for permission. Instead, it feels like walking straight back into the fire.
