Jett forced himself to put on a neutral smile. He’d been trained for this, and it wasn’t uncommon to stop to give a soundbite between periods. He just didn’t like the politics of it.
New York was fighting dirty right now. They were usually a rough team, not caring who they concussed, because it was hard for them to win games even with talent like Derek and Leland there. It was obvious they were on a mission to knock Toronto off their game right now, but he couldn’t say that out loud.
He had to play his part: cute boy-next-door and First Round Draft Pick for a team that rarely made the playoffs.
Her voice was grating and loud, and he only heard it because of the earpiece they handed him. The crowd above and around them was deafening as thousands of feet moved to go to the bathroom or get snacks, chatting animatedly about the game.
“Jett Fraser, just a couple of questions before you go to the locker room. So glad we could catch you. Tell us, that goal of yours seemed like it was made out of desperation. The Sunbursts seem like they’re fighting with everything they’ve got. What can you do differently in the second period to keep your lead?”
“Yeah, just gotta stay focused and work as a team. Our defence is doing a great job, so we need to lend them all the support we can.”
“What lends you strength in times like this? New York is a tough opponent.”
Jett tried to ignore the microphone and the sight of his sweaty face on the jumbotron, and likely on live TV. He had to tune it all out or it would make his skin crawl.
“Well, Powers has had fourteen shots against him and hasn’t let one in, so we can’t let him down.” Jett flashed a movie-star-worthy-grin at her, hoping his comment was enough, but she had one more question.
“Do you think the reason you work so hard for your team is because you feel like you weren’t there for your brother?”
The world seemed to tilt around Jett as her words echoed in his ears, jarring him as though someone had hit a gong deep inside his chest, the reverberations clanging through his nervous system.
“What?”
“Your younger brother, Chase? After what he did, do you feel like that’s why you’ve strived to maintain your good-boy image?”
Coach Adams was saying something to her now, but Jett stared at her wordlessly, blood pumping in his ears in a staccato rhythm that somehow did nothing to block out her next sentence.
“Do you think the fact that he was a school shooter is the reason why you’ve kept quiet about him all these years?”
There was a scuffle with security and the management team. Jett let himself be handled and moved away like a lost child, not a hockey player wearing full gear. He was surprised when he ended up in a physio exam room, not the Away Team locker room with his teammates.
Coach Adams gently pushed him to sit down. He said something that Jett didn’t absorb before leaving him behind, not that Jett could hear anything over the pounding of his heart and ringing in his ears.
He didn’t know how long he had sat there when the door opened again and Ryan came in, helmet off and face pale, with Coach Adams behind him. Then came Fallon from their PR Team and finally, Harrison.
Jett tried hard not to cry. His eyes stung as he stared at the floor, his words lost in the tumbling chaos in his head.
“The story is breaking everywhere,” Fallon said, waving his phone. “I thought we had a head start because my contact at CBC gave me a heads up that someone had sent them the story, but it looks like the leak was sent to every major media company in North America. TMZ ran it after doing bare minimum fact-checking. Fox News has the story on their 24-hour news channel, and it’s all over Twitter by now because the asshole posted it and tagged the Sunbursts official page.”
Ryan sat beside him and put a hand on his shoulder, looking like a concerned older brother. It was a thought that gave Jett’s shellshocked brain little comfort right now.
“But how can they post lies like this, and no one can do anything about it?” Ryan asked them. “Saying shit about how Jett’s brother was a killer! He—He killed himself.”
“Suicide by cop,” Jett said quietly.
The others stopped talking and turned to him.
“What?” said Ryan. His voice was soft, but it still hurt like a knife to the heart for Jett.
“My 13-year-old brother brought a gun into his school and killed eight people; seven students and a teacher. He injured two more before the cops caught up to him, and when he wouldn’t put the gun down, they shothim.”
He hesitated but then continued, figuring he’d already made his bed, so he might as well lie in it. “My parents were divorced, and my mom remarried and moved to South Carolina with my brother and step-dad. My brother stayed even though he was being bullied. He didn’t want to leave my mom. I was too busy with hockey to bother—I didn’t realize it was so bad. My—my dad got the call, and we couldn’t even go to the funeral because my mom didn’t want to have one. She sent my dad Chase’s ashes in a baggie.”
Harrison had moved to kneel in front of him, placing his hands on his knees, but Jett couldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t know whether his greatest shame would cost him the love of his life. He wasn’t ready yet.
What had been their last kiss? This morning at the hotel? Had they kissed since then? That future he’d pictured with Harrison was evaporating quickly, because who wanted to have kids with someone with his DNA?
“Sunshine.” Harrison’s voice was gruff. “Look at me.”
