Page 68 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

“I think what most of us want is to focus on the reason we’re here for, and that’s the sport. Fraser is one of the best players this game has seen in a long time, so if you want to watch some damn good hockey, let him do his job so he can remind you why you love it.

“Thank you.”

He had sat in Harrison’s lap so he could apply the wonderful pressure that made him feel like he wasn’t going to fall apart, but he wasn’t sure if it was going to be enough. He was terrified for Ryan, but his captain was like a wall of steel as hands raised and questions were allowed.

Ryan took a drink from his water bottle before leaning in to answer. “He took a big hit to the shoulder during the last game he played. He’s out with an upper body injury.”

“Is he too injured to come to the press conference? Why is he not here?”

Ryan’s smile was no longer very friendly. “As I said, he is recovering. We take care of our players, which means multiple appointments and physiotherapy, and all of it takes time.”

“Will he be making a statement?”

“No. I don’t see why he would have to. I think I covered everything.”

“When are you expecting him back? Will we see him on the ice again before Christmas break?”

“Our medical team suggested a minimal leave of two weeks, and then after that, it’s day by day. Fraser is a young player, and we want to make sure that he’s fully recovered before we put him back to work.”

Fallon stepped forward and leaned over the other microphone to speak. “I think that’s enough questions for today, everyone. Let’s let our captain get back to work so he can win us a cup.”

There was a clamour of voices, but his dad was quick to turn the TV off.

“And there you have it,” he said, smacking the remote down on the arm of the chair. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Now we just have to wait for this to become old news, and everyone will move on.”

“Agreed,” said Harrison, his deep voice vibrating around Jett, soothing the ache that had sprung up in his chest. “Give it a few days and Blanchard will get into a bar fight or fuck a married woman.”

Robert laughed and let out a hoot. “You’re right, son. That man has more drama than a goose in a henhouse.”

Harrison’s chuckle was one of confusion. “A what?”

“Ignore him,” said Jett, attempting a smile. “Dad says weird shit like that all the time. ”

“And if you start making fun of me, I’ll start gushing over how cute the two of you are,” said Robert, gesturing at them. “All snuggled like a bug in a rug. You make a handsome couple, I’ll give you that much.”

Christ, he felt so numb. This should have been an important and happy time in his life. He never brought a boyfriend home to meet his father, so the three of them in the same room should have been a huge deal.

They were getting along, and his dad was already calling Harrison his son and showing him fatherly affection. Jett should have been over the goddamn moon, but he was still just so—

“I’m going to take a nap,” said Jett. “Physio wore me out, and I think I need a break after watching the press conference.”

He ignored Harrison’s arms tightening around his chest and his father’s frown. He needed to be alone for a little while to reorganize his thoughts. Just a little longer, and he would feel better, he knew it.

“Alright, Jett,” said his dad. “You go take a nap, and Harrison and I will bond and make dinner in a few hours.”

Jett had already walked away, nodding along to his father’s words. Fenwick was calling him, and his weighted blanket.

In a few more days, he would be fine.

A few more days.

“Mental illness must run in the family.”

“Why did he keep it a secret? Was he involved?”

“Did you see the look on his face? That’s a guilty person if I ever saw one.”

“My favourite thing about Jett Fraser is how he puts on the golden boy act, when really he’s from a family of criminals.”

“I wouldn’t leave the house if my brother gunned down a bunch of children. ”

“The NHL has gone downhill since they got WOKE and let a bunch of gays on the ice.”

“He should just kill himself.”

“Put the phone down,” said Harrison, and Jett had no time to react before his phone was shoved onto the bed and hidden under the pillow. “You can’t read that shit. They’re all a bunch of crazy assholes.”

Jett didn’t see it that way. It was his fault for trying to keep his past a secret, and now the mask he had worn for years was crumbling into shards too sharp to catch.

People were allowed to be angry at him. He had made too much of a fuss this season, and while he would never regret that kiss on live TV, it had put a target on his back.

Mike had escalated his texts after that kiss. For whatever reason—probably because he was a homophobic asshole—seeing it had set him off.

It wasn’t Mike’s fault he was suffering now. Jett should have known that he couldn’t hide his past forever, and now it was coming back to haunt him. Like he wasn’t haunted by his brother’s face enough, but now he was seeing Chase wherever he went.

It could be from the lack of sleep or the dissociation, but he had almost started talking to him at some points. He hadn’t fallen that far yet, but the crash-out was coming—he could feel it.

“Danny will be here in an hour to work on your shoulder,” said Harrison.

They were lying in bed because that’s as far as Jett could make it most days. He had missed the rest of their away games and one home game already. He hated letting his team down, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his home.

Not with all of them waiting out there.

“Is this you telling me to get out of bed?” Jett asked, holding tighter to the arm that Harrison had wrapped around him when they started spooning.

“Maybe, but only because your dad is out there making breakfast, and you need to eat. ”

His father was still there and wouldn’t go home. Jett begged him to go back, but he refused to listen. He knew he was retired, and it wasn’t cold enough for ice fishing yet, but he felt like he was wasting his dad’s time when nothing was happening.

“I’m not hungry,” said Jett. And he buried his face into his blankets and closed his eyes.

Harrison sighed against his neck, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Who cares about his brother? Let him play hockey.”

“Every asshole is just using this as an excuse to go after Fraser because they all hate the fact that he’s the best in the league and he has a boyfriend.”

“Leave Jett alone! Don’t any of you know how to fact-check? He was in Canada, and his brother was in America. He had absolutely nothing to do with this.”

“He’s already missing games. I know this is a shitty situation, but we need you number 25! Get on the ice and we’ll have your back!”

“Prove to these assholes that they’re wasting their time hating. Let’s get that Stanley Cup!”

“Jett, I know you’re probably not going to read this because you have more important things to worry about. On the off-hand chance that you do, just know that people love you and we miss seeing you do what you do best, and that’s playing fucking hockey!”

“Get back in the game, Jett Fraser.”

“Get the fuck up. ”

Jett opened his eyes and blinked at Fenwick. The dragon stared back at him with sad eyes, but he wasn’t the one who had spoken.

“Harrison said you haven’t showered in three days, and that’s not a thing that’s going to happen. I don’t care how depressed you are, we’re washing the stank off you.”

It was Arlo who was talking, but his voice sounded much louder than one coming from a phone speaker.

Arms gripped him and started dragging him to the edge of the bed. Jett shouted and struggled, but he was lying on his bad shoulder and tangled in too many blankets. He toppled over the edge of the bed, cursing when his bruised body got jostled too hard.

“What the fuck , Killinger?” Jett glared up into Arlo’s blue eyes. “I’m injured, you dickhead!”

“Don’t be a bitch.” Arlo hauled him to the bathroom, blankets and all. He looked pissed, but Jett was just as fucking angry. “I have one fucking day off, and I have to fly over here because my dumb cousin is too soft to deal with your shit.”

Harrison had been talking to Arlo about him enough that Mini Killinger felt the need to come over and fight with him. He was in worse shape than he thought.

“I don’t need anyone worrying about me,” Jett seethed, kicking his tangled feet. “Go back to Montreal and do something better with your time off, like finding a boyfriend.”

Arlo’s scoff was harsh and furious. “Apparently we do have to worry about you if you haven’t washed your ass in three days.”

“I washed—”

“And also, fuck you. I don’t need a goddamn boyfriend to make googly eyes with. Why settle for one when I can have any man that I want, any day of the week?”

“Arlo, let go of me—I swear to fuck—”

Arlo dragged him straight into the shower and turned the water on, blankets and all.

Jett shrieked and fought to get away from the cold spray. Kicking and squirming, he finally got free of the now sopping wet blankets and pushed himself onto his feet .

The water was still pouring down on his head, making his vision blurry as he glared at Arlo. His shoulders were heaving from his panting breaths, and his teeth were clenched so tightly, he could hear them grinding.

Arlo looked resigned while he frowned back at him. Those too familiar eyes felt like they were staring into his soul and assessing all the pain lashing around inside him.

“You need help,” Arlo said softly.

Jett took a long, steadying breath. And then he lost his shit.

“I don’t want help! I want all of you to leave me the fuck alone !”

He stood there gasping and trembling as he glared at Arlo, daring him to shout back.

Arlo’s expression never shifted—never twitched in anger or disappointment. He just kept staring at Jett like he was seeing something he recognized in himself once, but had forgotten over time.

“Okay, Fraser,” Arlo said finally. “You’re not ready yet, so I’ll leave you be.”

Tears joined the wetness on his face as he watched Arlo walking away, and Jett wiped them off furiously. He was so fucking mad, but he didn’t know what to do with the rage building inside him.

He threw a fist at the wall, cracking the white tile with the force of his punch. But feeling the pain stinging in his hand did nothing to calm him, and he didn’t want to injure himself more than he already was, so he slid to the shower floor.

The water was warm now.

Jett curled himself into a ball and hid his face in his arms. He didn’t know where Harrison was, but he missed him. Jett was the worst boyfriend in the world.

What kind of weakling lost their shit over something like this? Why couldn’t he just get up and function? Why couldn’t he just move on and leave this horrible pain behind him?

Jett didn’t know the answers to those questions, so he sat in the shower in his wet clothes with his wet blankets and cried.

Jin: Not trying to be insensitive, but is this really bad enough for him to be moping around this much?

Bash: You are being fucking insensitive. Leave Fraser alone.

Jin: You shut up, babo. I still don’t know if I like you

Bash: Why? Because I’m not fully into men?

Jin: What kind of self-hating shit do you have going on? No, not because you’re bi, it’s because you’re a fucking dick and a dirty player

Bash: Awww. Pauvre petit, does your arm still hurt from bumping into me?

Arlo: That hit on Park was less like a bump and more like a battering ram…

Jin: No French

Bash: No Korean

Jin: And also, fuck you. What does Fraser want for his birthday? He should be back to normal by then, right? Are you taking him out?

Jin: ?

Jin: ????

Jin: ??????????????? Hello?!

Jin: Killinger, I can see you and Jett reading these messages. Answer the question.

Harrison: I don’t think Jett will be in the mood for going out. We’ll just order food and watch a movie with his dad. If you want to send him anything, I can give you our address

Arlo: I wish I didn’t have a game, or I would stop by again

étienne: We’re playing Florida. You said you’ve been learning French chirps to throw at that defenceman you keep complaining about.

Arlo: Fuck. Well, at least that will cheer me up a little. I’m sorry I can’t hang out with you guys

Harrison: Don’t worry about it. We’re having an easy night

Jin: Shit! Did you see the news about the Nova Scotia hockey team??? ?

Arlo: No fucking way

Harrison: Yeah, they finally decided to give Halifax an NHL team

Arlo: I wonder what name they’re giving them?

Jin: I vote for the Halifax TNTs

Arlo: ?

Jin: Aren’t you from that island? Two ships blew up in the harbour, didn’t they? You guys are always whining about it

Harrison: Jesus

Arlo: For one, Nova Scotia isn’t an island, you insolent shit. For two, it’s still too soon, man. No dark humour about the Halifax Explosion is permitted in this group chat

Jin: Boohoo

Bash: How is Halifax big enough to have an NHL team? I don’t even know where Nova Scotia is. And no fans to cheer you on, unless a couple of lobster fishermen stop by the arena for the cheap beer…

Jin: Yeah, I agree

Baash: Fraser, you and Killinger are from that little spit of land. What are your thoughts?

Jin: I can’t explain the anger I feel when I see someone reading my texts and not responding.

Bash: I tried my best.

Jin: Whatever. Who’s going to play on that team? The beer league?

Bash: Lobsters fresh out of the ocean probably

Arlo: Would you all fuck off?

Jett put the group chat on mute and went back to sleep.