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Bridger

T he locker room buzzes with a frenzied energy that’s impossible to ignore. Laughter bounces off the walls, mingling with the steady rhythm of chatter, the sharp rip of tape being peeled, and the metallic clink of skates being adjusted. The air is charged with the kind of electricity that comes with knowing the season hangs in the balance.

One game.

One shot at making the Frozen Four.

And yet, despite the stakes, my focus is split.

My gaze drifts to the far corner of the room where Garret sits alone, head bent as he tightens his laces. His movements are methodical, but there’s a stiffness to his posture that gives him away. The guys have been giving him the cold shoulder for days. A silent punishment for the way he’s acted. Most of them have had issues with him at one point or another, but none know the full story.

I think it’s time to change that.

My stomach churns as I glance around the room. The thought of putting this out there feels heavy, almost suffocating, but it’s a weight I can’t keep carrying.

Not alone.

Taking a steadying breath, I push to my feet and step toward the center of the room. The hum of conversation doesn’t immediately stop, so I clear my throat, loud enough to cut through the noise.

The guys pause as their attention shifts to me. Ryder leans against his locker, one brow arched in curiosity. “What’s up, Sanderson? You got some pre-game pep talk locked and loaded?”

A few chuckles ripple through the room. My palms feel clammy, and I wipe them against my pants. “Not exactly.” I glance at Garret, whose head jerks up at my words, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

The heaviness of the moment presses down harder.

Maybe I should’ve talked to him first.

Maybe I’m about to step over a line I have no business crossing.

But the truth matters, and it’s time to let it out.

“Before we hit the ice, there’s something I need to say. Something you all need to know.”

The room falls completely silent, the buzz of energy replaced by a tense anticipation. All eyes are on me now. My heart pounds as I force myself to meet Garret’s gaze, silently apologizing for not warning him beforehand.

Steele’s expression never changes. He knows what I’m about to do. He’s the only other person I told. After all, that makes Steele and Garret family.

It took a moment for my cousin to wrap his brain around that one.

I take another deep breath. “This isn’t easy for me to talk about, but it’s important.”

Garret stiffens, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “What are you doing, Sanderson?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it.

I hold his gaze, willing him to trust me for just a second. “It’s time they knew the truth.”

A ripple of confusion spreads through the room, the guys exchanging glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

“About what?” Ryder asks, his brow furrowing.

I square my shoulders, the words pressing against the back of my teeth, ready to spill out. “About Garret.” My voice remains steady even though my pulse hammers in my ears. “He’s not just a teammate.” I pause, meeting Garret’s surprised gaze. “He’s my brother.”

The room erupts in a chorus of shock.

Voices overlap as questions fly from every direction.

“You’re hilarious, Sanderson!” Colby calls out with a roll of his eyes. “Now, stop screwing around. In case you weren’t aware of it, we’ve got a game to win.”

“It’s official, he’s lost it.” Madden picks up his helmet before placing it on his head and fastening the chinstrap. “Is it too late to hold another intervention?”

“I’m not fucking around with you guys.” My lips twitch despite the tension that rushes through my veins. “I just found out that Garret’s my half-brother.”

Hayes shakes his head. “You know what? I think he’s being serious.”

“Talk about a real plot twist,” Ford adds.

Garret’s jaw tightens, his expression unreadable as he looks away, his hands flexing against his thighs. Tension vibrates from every line of his body.

“Yes, I’m serious,” I continue, cutting through the noise. “And no, I didn’t know until recently. But this isn’t about me or him. It’s about us as a team. We’ve all been through enough this season. We need to stick together now more than ever.”

The guys quiet down again, my confession settling over them.

Ryder is the first to speak, his voice carefully measured. “Is this true?” he asks, looking at Garret.

Garret lifts his head, his jaw tightening. For a long moment, he doesn’t answer, and I think he might shut down completely. But then he nods, his voice clipped when he finally speaks. “Yeah, it is.”

Another ripple of murmurs spreads through the room, but this time, it’s softer.

Less judgmental.

More understanding.

“I know this is a lot,” I say, my gaze sweeping over my teammates. “But Garret’s one of us. He’s family, in more ways than one. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned this season, it’s that family fights for each other. No matter what.”

Silence stretches out, thick with unspoken words and emotions. Then Steele stands, stepping closer to me and clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s win this thing,” he says simply.

The atmosphere in the room eases, the focus shifting back to the game. The guys nod in agreement, the chatter resuming as they finish gearing up.

Garret doesn’t say anything as I move back to my locker, but as I sit down, I catch his gaze.

Coach Philips pokes his head into the locker room. “It’s time, gentlemen. Are we ready to play some hockey tonight?”

The place ignites with energy as Ryder steps forward, his voice booming. “Wildcats on three!”

The team surges into action, gathering in a tight circle. Fists slam together with a resounding force, our voices blending into a unified roar that echoes off the walls. “One, two, three—Wildcats!”

The guys file out of the locker room as they head toward the ice. The air buzzes with anticipation and determination.

I linger behind, my attention locked on Garret as he stays rooted in place, his helmet cradled under his arm. His expression is difficult to read. It’s a blend of tension, relief, and something that looks like gratitude.

When he finally looks at me, his voice comes out rough and low. “Thank you for saying all that and standing up for me.”

I step closer, shaking my head. “You don’t have to thank me,” I say firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re my brother. That’s all there is to it.”

His throat bobs as he swallows, and he nods, his grip tightening on his helmet. “Still, it meant a lot. More than you know.”

I reach out, clapping him on the shoulder with enough force to jolt him out of whatever spiral of emotions he’s in. “Now, let’s get out there and kick some Northwood ass.”

His lips twitch into a small, hesitant smile before spreading into something genuine. He lets out a quiet laugh, and for the first time, it feels like we’ve finally broken through the wall that’s stood between us.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice steadier. “Let’s do that.”

Without another word, I pull him in for a quick hug before we head toward the door together, ready to take on the game as brothers.

As Garret and I step into the hallway, the sight of Dick leaning against the wall stops us both in our tracks.

“Bridger,” he snaps. “I don’t appreciate being ignored.”

I exhale slowly as my jaw tightens. Without looking at Garret, I reach out and place a hand on his arm, silently signaling him to stay put. His muscles tense under my palm, but he doesn’t move.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about right now,” I say evenly, meeting Dick’s icy glare head-on. My tone is calm, but there’s no mistaking the steel behind it. “When I’m ready, I’ll reach out. Until then, I’d appreciate some space.”

His face reddens as his composure cracks. “You listen to me?—”

“Not today,” I cut him off.

The hallway feels stifling, the air heavy with the tension that crackles between us. Dick opens his mouth, but I don’t stick around to hear whatever venom he’s about to spew. I give Garret’s arm a nudge, and we move past him, our skates thudding softly against the rubber mat.

“Is he always like that?” Garret mutters under his breath, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

“Pretty much.” I don’t bother looking back as Dick’s angry sputtering fades into the background.

For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m walking alone. Garret matches my stride, and the realization that I’ve got my brother beside me, hits me square in the chest. It’s a strange, unfamiliar comfort, but one I’m willing to lean into.

When we reach the ice, Coach Philips is waiting, clipboard in hand and his expression all business. He glances between me and Garret before nodding to where the rest of the team is warming up.

“You ready, Sanderson?” he asks, his tone steady but expectant.

I pull my helmet over my head and glance at Garret. When he gives me a small nod, I turn back to Coach.

“More than ready,” I say, my voice carrying a quiet determination.

With that, I step onto the ice, the sound of skates slicing into the frozen surface mingling with the deafening cheers of the crowd.

It’s time to play.