Page 4 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

He whipped his shirt off over his head, ignoring the sound of his keys clattering to the floor. He stumbled down the hall toward the bathroom, tripping over his pants as he yanked them off, sending shoes, socks and underwear in every direction.

He tried his breathing exercises, the ones he had to use during rehab, so he could push past the pain and fear of taking his first steps after the accident.

His vision was darkening, or maybe it was cloudy outside; he couldn’t tell.

The sound of rain could be in his head or dripping against the skylights for all he knew.

He got to the ensuite bathroom, not bothering with the lights, and turned on the water as cold as it would go.

He was back there again. The night that destroyed his life.

That carousel that he couldn’t fucking get off as it spun around and around in his fucking head, repeating words that made no sense.

His back hit the shower floor, a space big enough to fit his large body easily. The icy water took his breath away, even with the exercises moving his lungs to keep them working. Everything was so cold. His leg was already screaming at him, but sometimes he needed this.

Harrison opened his eyes, blinking water out of them as he stared into the darkness.

If he stopped thinking about where he was or how many years had passed, he could trick his mind into believing he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t lying on the shower floor in the dark, he was lying in the middle of the cold road during a storm, feeling the life drain from his body while he waited for the ambulance to save him.

But being in this dark place, feeling the pain and the cold and the terror as the memories seized him, also brought him closer to Luca .

It was on that road where he held his brother for the last time, and it was on that road where he heard Taylor’s voice for the last time.

He found solace in it. This was the only place he could go to return to that moment. It was the only place he could go to get back to them .

How fucked up was that?

He remained looking at the ceiling, pretending that he was gazing at the sky. He stayed there until the pain was so constant he couldn’t feel it anymore. He stayed there until he went from feeling cold to numb.

And there it was, that wave of calm settling over him every time he did this. How could he feel any pain in his heart if he could no longer feel the flesh and bones that caged it?

There was a sound outside the bathroom, and suddenly he was torn from his inner peace and everything snapped back into focus.

“Harrison?”

Arlo.

He was still pissed at him, but he would get over it. Arlo was the only person he had left, and he would only have him until he joined the NHL. There was no point in pushing the kid away, even though it might hurt less if he tried.

He also didn’t want Arlo to see him like this because he knew it would worry him. And because Arlo was such a soft-hearted guy, this would terrify him.

With his leg seized and his body numb, it was difficult to push himself up to turn the water to a warmer setting, but he did it.

“You want me to make something for us to eat?” Arlo’s voice said into the bathroom. “I owe you an apology.”

“Yes, you fucking do,” said Harrison, trying to hide his chattering teeth. “I want burgers on the barbeque, beer and a shit-ton of fries.”

There was a pause before Arlo said, “You’re lucky I owe you a big apology, because now I have to go into town to get supplies, and I’ll feel like a dick if I don’t follow through.”

“Why are you still standing there yapping then?” said Harrison. “Take the damn Mustang so I don’t have to deal with a repeat of today, because that won’t end well for either of us.”

“You’re such a grumpy, old prick. ”

The sound of Arlo walking away gave him a hint of relief. Now he had time to clean himself up and fight off the hypothermia before he returned.

He had to use the bar in the shower to get back on his feet, but once he was standing, he leaned against the wall, waiting for his skin to turn from bloodless white to red.

It was like being poked by a thousand needles after ten minutes of defrosting, but he stayed where he was and ignored the pain in his leg.

When it became unbearable, he knew it was time to get out.

His limbs were stiff, but he could move.

Harrison dried off and limped to his bedroom, grabbing his bottle of ibuprofen off the dresser and shoving four into his mouth, swallowing quickly.

By the time he dressed, stumbled back into the living room and dropped himself in his chair with his heating pad, Arlo was pulling in the driveway again.

Arlo’s blue eyes found him when he walked through the door, and he winced.

“Yeah, I heard it’s going to rain. Is it aching badly? Do you want me to grab some Advil?”

Harrison grunted dismissively. “I already took some. Get cooking.”

The sound of disbelief that left Arlo’s mouth made him laugh.

In his head, of course. He wasn’t about to show that things were forgiven just yet.

Arlo was a brat, but he would make someone a good husband one day. He knew his way around the kitchen, and hockey would make him rich. He would have men lined up for him once he was ready to date.

“Oh, dude,” Arlo said, pausing his frantic onion cutting. “There’s this new anime I want us to try tonight. I think you’ll like this one.”

If he was ever ready to date.

Arlo jogged to the living room, flashing Harrison a charming Killinger smile as he stole the TV controller from him and turned on his anime. He cackled his way back to the kitchen, leaving the controller out of reach so Harrison couldn’t change it.

Harrison was forced to endure colourful drawings on the screen, waiting for Arlo to finish with the food.

He attempted to pay attention to all the information his cousin continued to provide him with about the plot, but it was impossible.

The kid seemed unaware that talking over the show made watching it pointless.

He wasn’t old, but holy hell, he didn’t understand anime.

Arlo was an odd contradiction. He was a nerdy, geeky, foul-mouthed jock. He played hockey like he came out of his mother wearing skates, and he was just as scrappy as Harrison had been, but he was into cooking and nature documentaries.

Fucking weirdo.

When the cooking was done, Harrison was handed a healthy amount of food and a bottle of beer, and Arlo threw himself onto the couch, already biting into his burger.

“Whas wid oar ace?” Arlo said with his mouth full.

Ah, there was the fuckboy returned from the dead.

“Chew your food. Christ’s sake.” Harrison took a bite, waiting for Arlo’s one brain cell to focus on eating before he reached over and snatched the remote off the table.

He chose to ignore the eyeroll Arlo sent him when he changed the channel to his favourite James Bond movie. Anything but giant, naked people running around and eating other people, thank you.

Harrison wasn’t in the mindset to care about the movie, but he tried his best to stay engaged. If he looked like he was into it, there was a 90% chance that Arlo would shut up and not ask him the question that he knew he was dying to ask.

“So…what happened after Jett Fraser hopped in your car and you took off together?”

Harrison gripped his beer bottle and said, “Drop it.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Arlo…”

Arlo shoved a handful of fries in his mouth. “I won’t tell anyone you did it if you show me the body.”

Harrison narrowed his eyes, both impressed and annoyed that Arlo was pushing this hard. “Did something happen in your childhood that fucked you up? You don’t know when to quit.”

“Yeah,” said Arlo, and Harrison already knew where this was going. “It’s called a healthy dose of disownment for being gay.”

“Low blow, shit head. ”

Arlo placed his empty plate on the coffee table hard enough to rattle the wood and grabbed his beer bottle, emptying it in one go.

Harrison watched his cousin’s dramatics with one brow raised, waiting with held breath for Arlo to get to the point.

When Arlo smacked the bottle next to his plate, he put on his big mad face and turned on Harrison.

“Can you please talk to me about this?”

Harrison bit back a comment about them being men and not needing to talk, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Arlo’s pissy attitude tonight. It had been a long enough day.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Harrison admitted.

All at once, Arlo deflated. “I don’t know. I thought you wouldn’t care that Fraser was there because you always seem so stoic. I know you guys never went to school together or played on the same team, but maybe meeting him would…I don’t know? Maybe make you want to come back or something?”

“You know I can’t play anymore,” said Harrison.

Arlo shrugged. “There are more things to hockey than playing hockey. Most of them you don’t need a good leg for.”

“I was that leg,” Harrison said through gritted teeth. Fuck, he didn’t want to do this. “And I was Jett Fraser.”

Arlo jerked back as if he’d been smacked. Harrison could see him piecing all the information together, the outcome slowly dawning on him.

“Shit.” Arlo rubbed his face with his hands roughly and brushed his fingers through his black hair.

This is why Harrison had a soft spot for him.

That look of guilt as Arlo sheepishly smiled at him was all Killinger.

They were similar in so many ways, from their looks to their interest in hockey and their outcast status.

It was the only reason why Harrison let him in so easily, and always forgave him when Arlo tried to drag him back to the rink constantly and started fights.

Arlo wasn’t Luca, not even close, but they were still brothers in a different way. Arlo wanted to help him, and Harrison understood that much, even if his meddling drove him crazy.

“At the risk of pissing you off a record-breaking number of times today. ”

Jesus.

“You didn’t actually kill Jett Fraser, did you?”

Harrison sighed. “No. I left him at a gas station on an exit near Hansport and took off. He’s fine .”

“ Yes, he is ,” said Arlo in a tone far from innocent, but one look from Harrison set him back on track. “Wait, you left him there?”

“Don’t you have a hockey game tomorrow?” Harrison countered. “And an apartment you call home?”

“Ugh, I hate how right you are.” Arlo gathered his plate and empty bottle, waiting for Harrison to hand him his. “I’ll do the dishes and then take off. I mostly wanted to check if you were okay after seeing how pissed you were today.”

Harrison shot to his feet, too fast and too close for Arlo to avoid him. Beer bottles and plates hit the floor in a crash—one of the plates shattered, and a fork was sent skittering under the couch.

“You can’t.”

Harrison hadn’t realized he had taken hold of Arlo’s wrist until he felt muscles and tendons tense in his grip.

“You can’t drive.”

Arlo placed his free hand on Harrison’s, his eyes darting to the beer bottles on the floor between them before landing on him.

“I won’t go,” said Arlo, gently freeing himself from Harrison’s hand. “Why the hell would I want to drive back to my shitty apartment when I’m full of burgers, and there’s a king-sized bed in the guest room?”

Harrison let out a shuddering breath. He felt dizzy and drained, and in desperate need of sleep. “Give me your keys.”

Arlo said nothing as he walked over to the kitchen island and picked up his keys, which were attached to what had to be ten anime keychains, and brought them over. He placed them in Harrison’s open palm with a frown, but he was quiet.

“I’m going to bed,” said Harrison. “Clean up this mess and go the fuck to sleep. You have a game to win tomorrow.”

Arlo grinned. “A game against Jett Fraser . And I’m going to kick his ass.”

Harrison paused, waiting for Arlo’s next question he knew was coming .

“If you wanna come watch, it would mean a lot to me. It’s not every day a nobody gets a chance to go up against an NHL star.”

Harrison smirked. “Go up against an NHL star and win, remember?”

But Arlo knew his answer, even without him having to say it.

Harrison gave him a playful smack on the cheek and stepped carefully around the broken glass. He couldn’t stop himself from saying, “And you’ve never been a nobody, Arlo.”

He retreated to his room before Arlo embarrassed them both and started crying.