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What that asshole said wasn’t even that bad, just bullshit about my dad. It was nothing creative or new, but I fucking lost it.

It was like an out-of-body experience. One moment I was there in the middle of a hockey game, and the next, I was floating above myself, watching as I pounded on the Detroit winger who’d been on my ass all fucking night.

It was a fucking stupid thing to do, especially with my brothers and father watching. I want to set a good example for Huxley and Ryker, and losing my shit right in front of their eyes isn’t that.

I’m fucking embarrassed.

Fuck what my dad thinks.

But Garrett?

Fuck.

I drag my hand down my face as I remember the moment I looked up and saw him there.

He came to the game.

He got on a flight and flew across the country for this specific game.

Or has he been to all of them this past week?

No, that’s crazy. He had a job interview and⁠—

He came to this one because he knew you’d need him, a little voice points out.

“Fuck,” I groan, dragging my hand down my face and instantly regretting it.

I’ve got a swollen cheek, and my lip is split from the couple of hits that asshole managed to land. I glance at my palm and find that it’s covered in blood.

All I want to do now is go home. That’s what everyone else is doing tonight.

Guilt tightens my stomach.

I should be looking forward to seeing my brothers tomorrow, and I feel like an asshole for wanting to go home and hide.

It would be different if everything wasn’t such a fucking mess.

Garrett is here.

In Detroit.

But he never told me.

He messaged me before the game, just like he has done before every game this week, wishing me luck. Why didn’t he mention that he was in the stands? That he’d be wearing my jersey?

I pull my cell from my pocket and stare at our one-sided message thread from the past week.

While I might have read them all, I haven’t sent a single reply.

I’ve wanted to. Fuck knows how much I’ve wanted to.

But what do I say?

I have to keep reminding myself of what happened. That he lied to me for weeks.

But as every day passes, as I miss him more and more, its significance lessens.

As if he knows I’m on the brink of reaching out, the dots start bouncing and my heart lurches.