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FITZY
I spot Phil Graham making his way down from the stands as the buzzer sounds. He looks pissed. More angry than anyone has the right to be, really. We won the game 3-1, and two of those goals came from his superstar son who also happens to be my friend, Garrett Graham. G should probably get a heads up on this one. Especially after he shared with us last season that his dad is a raging asshole with anger issues.
"G!" I manage to stop him without tripping over my own feet as we leave the ice. "Papa Graham is here, and he looks like he's headed this way in prime asswipe mode. Let me know if you want an escort to the room." Garrett purses his lips and his hyped post-win expression immediately fades. He scans the crowd, no doubt looking for Wellsy. AKA Hannah Wells, his girlfriend who we all know is his soulmate. They're gonna get married one day. I better be invited to that wedding. Anywho, back to business.
"Thanks, Fitzy. I'm fine."
He's not anywhere near the same planet as fine, but I'm not about to argue. I watch as G ducks through the tunnel toward the locker room. I start to follow, then realize I should probably give John Logan, John Tucker - yep, two John's. That's why we refer to them as Logan and Tucker - and Dean Di Laurentis a heads up. G's besties, and the other senior members of this team. By the looks on their faces, they already know Papa Graham is here. Alrighty then. I know when to mind my own, and one of those times is now.
DEAN
Ah, fuck. Phil Graham sure knows how to ruin a moment, doesn't he? I push past his arrogant ass on the way to the locker room. And so what if I shoved harder than I needed to? A shoulder check is the least that dickwad deserves. He glares at me. Fuck you too, Phil. He's hated us ever since G filled us in on what a monster he is. Can't hide behind a nice guy facade once people know you're the opposite of nice. I bite my lip. What is Phil doing in the tunnel anyway? He has no right to be down here. No right to direct access to G. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't have to wait very long for my answer. I swing my head around to look back at Phil at the exact moment he steps up to Garrett and punches him in the face. Fuck me.
LOGAN
I'm launching myself at Phil Graham faster than I can blink. You do not get to punch any of my boys, but especially not G. I wrench him away from Garrett and shove his sorry ass into the wall. I don't have to check to see if Tuck is helping G or not. I know he is. Bro code and all that. "You motherfucker!" I screech at Phil as I hold him in place. Phil may have been a big shot enforcer back in his day, but that day has long passed. He has nothing on me as he squirms desperately against my grip on his collar. Has campus security ever been slower in their lives? God damn.
TUCKER
I keep both hands gripped tight to the back of Garrett's jersey as I guide him toward the locker room. It isn't because I think he's going to try to turn around and fight his piece of shit father, but because I think he's going to fall down if I don't hold him up. His eyes are glazed over. He's here, but he's not here. His lip is bleeding, and his cheek is starting to swell pretty good. Phil only got two shots in before Logan jumped his ass, but that fucker made them count. "G," I say softly. "You good, man?" I know he isn't, but right now I'd take him lying to me just to know he heard me. He blinks, his face blank. Okay, then. G is currently only with us in body. I maneuver him to his cubby and sit him down. Or try to. He slides to the floor like his bones are jelly. Oooh boy. I crouch down to G's level and place my hands on his skates. "G. We're here. What do you need?" He stares at me. I turn helplessly toward Dean and Logan as they crash into the room.
DEAN
I don't have to tell you that my boy G is going through it. You're here, which means we're telling you this story. You're in the know. He's sitting on the floor looking like he's never been on Earth before. I kneel in front of him and start undoing his left skate. Tuck scoots over and starts on the right. I shoot a glance at Tuck, who meets it and nods. A cool feature of hockey bro code: we can read minds. Not actually, but we spend so much time together that we know what the others are thinking without ever saying a word. I pull G's skate off and get to my feet to call Allie. Bro code is great and all, but G needs Wellsy.
Allie answers on the first ring. "We heard. We're on our way." The line goes dead. God, I love my girl.
LOGAN
"OUT. Every one of you. Shower at home. Grab your shit and get OUT." I roar. I am not usually a loud dude, and the guys are scrambling to obey as a result. They're all worried about G, which I understand and respect, but this is too personal for everyone to witness. They file out and tell us to update them when we can. Roger that. G, Tuck, Dean, and myself remain. Fitzy thought about hanging around, but his girlfriend needed a ride to work. Phil is gone, at least. Coach popped his head in to let us know campus security dragged his ass out of the arena. Hopefully with a lifetime ban.
I turn back to the boys. Tuck and Dean removed G's gear before they took off their own and hit the showers. Probably a good idea to get G cleaned up before Wellsy and Allie get here. Wellsy wouldn't care if he smells like sweat, but it'll be better if he doesn't. "Shower time, G. Wellsy is on her way and you smell like shit." He lifts his head just a little at the mention of her name, but makes no move to get up. I sigh.
ALLIE
I pull into the athletic centre parking lot like I'm in a game of GTA and being chased by mobsters. I've never played that game. I don't know if there are mobsters. I just know there are fast cars with squealing brakes. God, Fitzy would kill me if he could see this blatant lack of video game knowledge. I'm not going to tell him, and neither are you. "ALLIE!" Hannah squeals her displeasure from the passenger seat. Whoops. What can I say? Time is of the essence. We park the car and hustle toward the hockey arena like we're trying to qualify for the Olympics.
"Hey." I stop just short of opening the arena door and reach for Hannah's arm instead. "It'll be okay. He needs you right now. I bet our entire next grocery bill that none of those ding dongs have managed to get through to him in the time it has taken us to get our butts over here. And you know why that is? Because none of them are you. You, Hannah Wells, hung the moon as far as G is concerned."
She smiles at me, and some of the tension bleeds out of her shoulders as she does. Mission accomplished. I love this girl more than anything, probably as much as G does, and in moments like these she tends to forget how important she is to us all. That's what I'm for. We make our way down toward the hockey locker rooms. Dean, thank moses, is waiting for us in the hall. He takes my hand and gives us a rundown of where things are at. Hannah, to her credit, isn't a total stress mess right now. She listens carefully and squares her shoulders before pushing the door open.
WELLSY
I beeline for Garrett, who is sitting on the floor in nothing but compression gear. I don't pay attention to anyone else. I crouch in front of him, taking his chin in my hand as gently as I can. His lip is cut, and his cheek is swollen and angry. You vile piece of shit, Phil. I brush my fingers over the damage on G's face, my touch feather light. He meets my gaze. A small, broken sound escapes his lips as he folds in on himself and leans into me. I catch him as best I can, folding my legs under me so I am kneeling instead of crouching. I run my fingers through his hair and rock us ever so slowly from side to side. He is sobbing now. Gutteral, heart wrenching heaves into the crook of my neck. I feel his tears soaking my sweater. I don't know how long we sit like this. A minute? An hour? I really couldn't say. Once his sobs subside, I gently tip his face up toward mine. His eyes search my face, begging me to know what he needs without having to say it. Of course I know. I take his hand to remind him I am still right here and turn to the group. I don't need to give you specifics but yes, I rallied everyone and yes, we all know our shit in a crisis. We have Garrett showered, dressed, hair producted (thanks, Al) and in the passenger seat of his jeep in the blink of an eye. I drive us home with everyone else right behind.
GARRETT
I have never felt more loved in my life. I know that's a weird thing to say in the almost immediate aftermath of being punched in the face by my own father, but it is true. It's been a few days since now so I feel like I'm in a better place to talk about it. The way my brothers, my girlfriend, and her best friend showed up for me? I'm the luckiest guy in the world. Wellsy drove me home after she peeled me off the floor, as she told you. Maybe she was nicer about her description of my mental and physical state. It wasn't great. Anyway. We arrived home to pizza and some weird French soap opera Allie and Dean are into. We could have been watching paint dry, what mattered in the moment was how cared for I felt. I fell asleep 3 minutes in, of course, but I was in Wellsy's arms and surrounded by all of my people. You can't blame me after the day I had. Hannah is all in on the French show now, though. She, Allie, and Dean have a group chat for it. Logan and Tuck, like me, would rather watch anything else. I have an appointment with a therapist booked. I don't plan to reach out to my father. I know I could have pressed charges, but I opted not to. What matters now is looking ahead. My life is so bright and my friends are my found family. Don't tell her, but I know for a fact Wellsy is going to be my wife. I knew before this whole ordeal, but I am beyond certain of it now.
Maybe we'll tell you all about it one day.