Jett had trouble believing that, even though he knew it was true. He’d just tried to be a good friend to someone he’d known for years. But where all of Arlo and Mike’s teammates had been so happy to meet him and eager for any tips, Mike had been arrogant and used him at every turn.
“Alright,” Jett told Marietta. “Alright, you can do what you need to.”
Marietta explained everything in a calm, professional tone that made the gravity of it all feel strangely distant. The paperwork had already been drawn up and would be served to Mike that morning. Once he received it, he’d have no choice but to lawyer up and take it to court if he wanted to fight the charges. Both Arlo and Jett could potentially be called in for testimony, but given their careers and public visibility, accommodations would be made. They’d likely testify virtually, sparing them the media circus and any unnecessary exposure.
She reassured them that the agency would monitor the situation closely and contact them when Mike was officially served. If he reached out to either of them again—or worse, approached them in public—he’d be arrested on the spot.
Jett ended the call in a daze, fingers still loosely curled around his phone. The pressure in his chest didn’t lift; if anything, it sank lower, heavier. His limbs moved on autopilot as he got up and pulled on his Sunbursts athletic gear, the familiar weight grounding him.
Warmth enveloped him suddenly, steady and comforting. Jett turned instinctively, burying his face into Harrison’s bicep. The scent of him—clean skin, woodsy soap, and that expensive aftershave he always wore—washed over Jett like a tide, easing some of the fear that had taken root in his bones.
“I know you’re feeling guilty,” Harrison murmured, voice low and rough against Jett’s head. His lips brushed through his hair, slow and soothing.
“I didn’t do anything to him,” Jett whispered, shocked by the wobble in his voice. His eyes burned as he clenched them shut, willing the tears away. “All I did was be his friend. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know,” Harrison whispered back, tightening his hold. “I know, sweet boy.” He stroked his hair, pressing kisses to his brow like he could physically calm the storm inside him. “This isn’t your fault.”
Harrison didn’t know how wrong he was. How could he when Jett never told him about the one thing in his past that could severely change his perspective of him?
He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to wallow and end up in a state that he could never bounce back from. He had hockey to play and a boyfriend to care for.
He had a goddamn life to build.
None of itmattered.
Jett shook off the heaviness and smiled at Harrison. “Thank you.”
His smile didn’t fool Harrison, but he sighed and kissed Jett’s nose. “Time for you to work shit out at practice. I’m sure Wolf will let you take a swing at him if you look sad enough.”
“Hell yeah.” Jett slipped out of his embrace, and the situation was forgotten for the time being. “Let’s go slam some idiots into walls.”
Jett
Three years in the NHL had allowed Jett to get used to interviews. Sometimes they were formal, and others were informal and silly because people wanted to see their more human side instead of the focused player on the ice.
He preferred the ones with their media team because he’d gotten to know them and could relax and be himself. He’d sat down with SportsNet or Sports Illustrated several times, and it always made him feel dumb. It was like they never got the answers they wanted from him.
But did he want to hold puppies and answer trivia questions? Yes, he did. Media team for the win.
This media crew didn’t have puppies because they were about to start their pre-game warmup against the Barbarians, but they weren’tawful. Mariah and her crew followed him to the arena to take more footage, still asking him questions over the music and cheering fans.
Jett didn’t hesitate to try and switch their focus on Jason and Niko, their other young players, but she wasn’t interested in anyone but the star player.
Powers tried to distract them with his silly stretching rituals and stories about his dinosaur figurines, but the cameras always ended up on Jett in the end.
Cote straight-up avoided them by disappearing into the locker room, and Jett couldn’t blame him.
“Any off-season plans for you and Harrison this summer?” Mariah yelled, shoving the mic in his face when Jett circled back to talk to her.
Jett nodded and tried his best to act excited. “Lots of conditioning and practice, but I’m hoping to take a trip somewhere warm too. Harrison has a thing about sunlight, so we’ll see.”
That made her laugh, and Jett would have joined in, but Bracken smacked him on the back with his stick to signal it was time to take warm-up seriously.
Hewas happy to say his goodbyes, dodging more questions about Harrison and their plans, and chased after Bracken.
The New York crowd gathered their seats, their collective voices a low rumble along with the music pumping through the speakers. Jett stopped next to Bracken and Wolf to work on his stretches while a group of girls smacked on the glass and called out to them to get their attention.
Wolf kept making eye contact with them, grinning when he looked away, like he was being coy. His antics only served to rile the girls up even more, and they kept smacking the glass until Bracken was torn from his pregame focus to look at them.
