Harrison held the jersey in his left hand, staring at it in disbelief as his eyes traced over the name there.
Fraser.
How he had grown to hate that name after the accident. How that name had filled him with rage when he saw it stitched onto white and blue colours. And how ironic he thought it was that the owner of the stupidname was the only thing stopping him from feeling like the world was trying to swallow him up.
Harrison put the jersey on, not realizing how cold he was until he felt the warmth from it settle over him like a blanket. He walked to his room and shut the door behind him, heading into the bathroom and flipping the light on. He didn’t want the dark right now—he wanted—
Harrison went into the shower and put himself in the corner, hugging his legs to his chest. He didn’t stop to think before he opened his phone and found Jett’s number.
It rang.
Harrison closed his eyes.
“Hello?”
Harrison dropped his face to his knees, his next inhale catching on a dry, shuddering sob.
Jett sounded so confused and worried, and Harrison hated himself for what he was about to do, but he needed him.
“Please, Jett.” Harrison’s teeth were rattling. He hadn’t even turned the cold water on. “I’m sorry—I’m trying to stop.”
Jett let out a wounded sound, like Harrison had punched him in the stomach.
“Don’t fucking move,”said Jett, and Harrison waited, taking deep breaths while he listened to the sounds of feet running on concrete.
People were talking in the background over the sound of echoing footfalls, some voices calling out Jett’s name, but he didn’t stop. He kept running until he heard a car door opening and slamming closed.
“Ryan, please,”said Jett between harsh breaths.“I need to borrow your car for a second.”
There was no argument, only the same sound of a car door opening and closing, and then there was silence between them.
They were panting hard like they had raced a lap around the rink, but Jett didn’t waste any time.
“I’m here, Harrison. I’m right fucking here.”
Harrison’s breathing hitched, leaving him in small gasps. He pressed the phone to his ear, feeling the need to hold Jett as close as he could.
“I’m going to start talking, and you don’t need to think about what I’m saying or come up with a response. I just want you to hear me.”
Harrison nodded.
“DidI text you about the other day when I went out with Arlo? We’re at neighbouring camps, so it’s stupid if we don’t take advantage of our days off when we’re this close. Anyway, we were sitting at our table, and a group of Arlo’s teammates showed up to crash our bro date. They were getting jealous because I guess I’m the only one who’s been able to talk him into leaving his hotel room. They were followed in by a pack of puck bunnies, and one of the guys—being a bit of a dumbass—tried to coax one onto Arlo’s lap. I guess he didn’t put two and two together, even though your cousin was prettier than all the women sitting there, he didn’t clue in that Arlo is gay.”
“Arlo had to endure that for all of thirty seconds before his captain got pissed and glared at the girls until they left. Then he glared at Arlo and got pissed at him for not standing up for himself. Turns out, their captain is gay too, so Arlo isn’t their only queer player. He’s a super chill guy, and he waited until Arlo accepted an apology from his teammate before they left us alone to play pool. That totally didn’t stop one of the girls from coming back later to slip Arlo her number, and I’m telling you, the look on his face was priceless. Sometimes he scowls so good I feel like I’m sitting across from you again.”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“I don’t think I corrected you when you asked if Bracken and Powers were a couple, and I want to clarify and tell you that they’re not. Especially since you’ll eventually meet them. They’re both straight, even though I’ve never seen either with a girlfriend, and they live together. Eat together. Go out together. Watch porn together.”
Breathe in.
Out.
“I once caught them holding hands, but to be fair, we were at the theatre to see a horror movie. Maybe straight guys who are secure in their masculinity are like that.”
Breathe.
“My dad said he really wants to meet you, as in, he wants you to visit without me being there to introduce you. He keeps nagging me for your address so he can bring you something to eat, but I told him about that story of the shotgun under the floorboards, and he’s settled down for now. I don’t know how much longer I can hold him backfrom exploring every dirt road in Windsor until he finds you. I want him to meet you, trust me, I do.”
