Jett shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. “I—he was my brother, and I loved him, but I’m so angry at him. He did horrible things. I could have done something—something to help the families—or—or the school, but I was a coward.”
“Jett.” Harrison’s voice was stern this time. “You were fourteen. That wasn’t your job. Your dad kept you out of it like he should have. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Ryan’s grip on his shoulder tightened, as though silently communicating his agreement with Harrison’s words.
“Do we know who leaked this to the press?” Adams asked Fallon.
“Mike Smith,” Jett told them before Fallon could reply. “He got served a protection order this morning from my lawyer and agent. He’s known me since elementary school, and he knew my brother. I never thought he would stoop so low, but…”
“You see the good in people even when there is none,” Harrison said fondly, brushing a hand over Jett’s sweaty head. “It’s okay.”
Jett gazed at his boyfriend and into those impossibly blue eyes. Despite the crushing weight of guilt and shame inside, he actually believed his words.
Harrison
Harrison stayed kneeling on the cold floor between Jett’s padded knees, hands gripping his shaking thighs. Jett was bent over Harrison as he silently cried into his gloveless hands, sniffling and muttering curses.
Adams and Fallon had left to start damage control before the second period, but Bracken had refused to leave for any reason. He still sat next to Jett with an arm around him, keeping a physical presence of support in the hopes that Jett wouldn’t break into pieces as long as he was there.
They had to be getting close to the start of the next period, and Harrison still didn’t know how he could convince Jett to call it a night. If Fraser truly wanted to play, he wouldn’t stop him, but letting him go back onto the ice in this state would kill Harrison.
“Alright,” said Bracken. “Gear off, Jetty. You need to be showered and out of here during second period.”
Jett stopped shaking and lowered his hands, his eyes bloodshot and still full of tears. “What?”
Bracken was using his free hand to fiddle with his phone, not daring to meet Jett’s gaze. “I rented you and Harrison a car, and Danny from the med team ran to the rental place to pick it up for me. It’s parked out front, so you need to gear down, shower, drive to the hotel to get your shit, and get out of here before the press can rally.”
“The game—” Jett began.
“I got the game handled,” said Bracken, giving Jett the most confident smile he could muster. “We’re going to bring home the win, don’t you worry about that. The guys are fucking fired up right now. All I care about is getting you back to Toronto without being hounded by every idiot with a camera. They’ll be expecting you to stay with us, but that’s why this plan is brilliant.”
“Ryan, I can’t do that.” Jett sniffed loudly and grimaced. “I can’t leave the guys with only one point on the board.”
Bracken’s expression hardened. “Jett, I’m not asking you to leave, I’m telling you. Adams would have pulled you for the rest of the game with that shoulder injury, and you know it. You’re going to ice it for the eight-hour drive back home, and check in with medical before next practice.”
“This is bullshit.” Jett clenched his hands into fists. “I don’t need you to baby me. I’m not your kid brother.”
“Thank god for that, or we would really be getting nowhere.” Bracken looked at Harrison and said, “You got him?”
“You know I do.”
Jett’s cheeks were blotchy from crying, and flushed red with anger. He opened his mouth to argue further, but furious knocking on the door made them all freeze.
Bracken finally let go of Jett to go to the door, his posture tensed for a fight as he threw it open and barked, “What?”
“We want to see him,” said a male voice that Harrison didn’t recognize. “I don’t care if we have to fight you, Bracken.”
“You guys know we’re expected back on the ice in three minutes, right?”
“Let them in,” said Jett.
Bracken sighed loudly and met Harrison’s gaze once more. “Get out of here before anyone catches on. I’ll send you the info on the rental.”
Harrison nodded and used Jett’s chair to push himself up, wincing as his bad leg throbbed angrily. He moved just in time for two Barbarian players to come racing into the room in full gear with their helmets clutched in their hands.
“Jetty!”
Jett stared up at them, shoulders slumped and expression broken. “I’m okay,” he said hoarsely. “You have a game to play. Get out of here.”
