Chapter Text
When Garrett got home, dinner was already done and the atmosphere felt different somehow—lighter, warmer, dressed in something he couldn't quite name.
The table had already been set, the food looked incredible, and the boys were laughing so hard it was almost impossible to believe they had an important game coming up. Their voices filled the house as they exchanged stories I'd never heard before, each one somehow more ridiculous than the last. Every now and then, Tucker would get offended over something, Logan would laugh so hard he nearly choked, and Dean would threaten to kick everyone out of the house despite being outnumbered.
I carefully plated each dish while listening to their conversation from the kitchen, smiling to myself whenever their laughter echoed through the house.
As I reached for another plate, a strong arm suddenly wrapped around my waist from behind. The familiar scent of Garrett's cologne—woody, clean, and unmistakably him—immediately surrounded me.
“Hi,” I said softly, still focused on arranging the food, instinctively leaning back against him. The boys' conversation faded into the background, though their laughter continued to drift through the room. “How was your day?”
“Great,” Garrett replied immediately. I could hear the smile in his voice before I even saw it. “I can't wait to play again.”
He rested his chin lightly on my shoulder before leaning forward enough to peek at what I was doing.
“I didn't know you cooked tonight.”
I smiled.
Garrett always looked at me like that—with complete adoration, like I was the best thing he'd ever stumbled into. His eyes smiled just as much as his mouth did, and I had never seen him look at anyone else the way he looked at me.
It warmed something deep inside my chest every single time.
To be loved by Garrett Graham—to be loved so openly and so completely—still felt unreal sometimes.
I must have been staring at him with that thoughtful look he always caught me wearing because suddenly he pressed a quick kiss against my cheek before inhaling dramatically.
The gesture was so unexpected that I laughed.
“No, I didn't cook,” I said, finally tearing my eyes away from him. “I just helped Tucker.”
“Ah.” Garrett nodded seriously, as if he was processing highly important information.
Then he made absolutely no effort to let go of me.
Instead, his arms tightened around my waist and he stayed attached to my back like a koala.
I shook my head, fighting a smile.
“Did you wait long?” he asked, probably wondering why I was already at the house when he had only just gotten back from practice.
“Not really.” I shook my head lightly. “I talked to the guys about something.”
For a moment, Garrett didn't respond.
His arms remained wrapped around me, holding me close as if he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. The kitchen noise faded into the background, leaving only the warmth of him behind me and the steady rise and fall of his breathing against my shoulder.
I waited for him to ask.
To question what I told them.
To wonder why I hadn't waited for him first.
But he did neither.
Instead, Garrett tightened his hold slightly and buried his face in the crook of my neck. His nose brushed softly against my skin as he nuzzled closer, the gesture so gentle it made my chest ache.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said,
“I'm proud of you.”
The words caught me completely off guard.
My hand froze midway through placing another serving spoon on the table.
Garrett wasn't asking for explanations.
He wasn't demanding details.
He wasn't worried about what happened after he left.
He was simply holding me.
Proud of me.
For speaking.
For surviving.
For finally allowing other people to carry a piece of the weight I had been holding onto for years.
Something warm settled heavily in my chest.
I turned slightly in his arms, enough to properly look at him.
His eyes were soft. Honest.
And God, he meant it.
“It was still scary,” I admitted quietly. “Giving other people a piece of me I don't always reveal.”
My voice softened toward the end.
Garrett didn't interrupt.
Didn't rush to reassure me.
Didn't try to fix it.
He simply listened.
I glanced toward the dining table where the others were waiting.
Logan was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.
Tucker was wildly gesturing as he told some story that probably wasn't true.
Dean looked seconds away from throwing a napkin at both of them.
The sight made something shift inside me.
Not painfully.
Comfortably.
These were the people who stayed.
The people who showed up.
The people who made room for my bad days and celebrated my good ones.
The people I trusted.
With my whole life, even.
My gaze lingered on them for another moment before I looked back at Garrett.
“But I'm glad it's them.”
I said it simply, like it was the easiest truth in the world.
Because after Garrett and Allie, there was no one else I would have rather told.
No one else I would have trusted with something so fragile.
Garrett's thumb brushed softly against my side.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”
“Hey, lovebirds!” Dean suddenly shouted from across the room. “You two can catch up later. We're starving over here.”
The interruption made both of us laugh.
“See?” Garrett muttered under his breath. “Not even five minutes.”
I rolled my eyes affectionately and nudged him away.
“Come on. They're going to start a riot if we make them wait any longer.”
Together, we carried the food to the table.
The smell of dinner immediately filled the room as plates were passed around and everyone reached for food at the same time.
For a while, conversation flowed easily.
Tucker complained about being underappreciated as the house chef.
Logan kept stealing food from everyone else's plate.
Dean threatened violence every five minutes.
And Garrett sat beside me, his knee pressed lightly against mine beneath the table.
It was loud.
Chaotic.
Comfortable.
And as I looked around the table at all of them—laughing, arguing, and talking over one another—I realized there was nowhere else I'd rather be.
Because somewhere along the way, this place stopped feeling like Garrett's house.
It started feeling like home.
It was game day today, and it would be a lie to say I wasn't nervous.
I knew I had already talked to the boys about Delaney. They promised me they wouldn't do anything reckless on the ice. Just hockey, that's it, Logan had said.
But hockey was a sport built on physicality.
Body checks, chirps, hard hits, and bad tempers were practically part of the game. And knowing the boys, I was sure they'd make the most of every legal opportunity to remind Delaney exactly who he was playing against.
I trusted them.
I did.
But Delaney had always known exactly how to get under people's skin.
And now, for the first time, they knew exactly who he was.
When I looked down toward the ice, I immediately found them.
Dean was already skating warmup laps.
Logan was shooting pucks into the net.
Tucker was laughing about something with one of his teammates.
And Garrett—
My heart softened instantly.
Garrett wasn't playing tonight because of the suspension, but he was still there. Standing near the bench, talking to his teammates, encouraging them like he always did.
His eyes found mine in the crowd almost immediately.
And just like that, he smiled.
The same smile that always made everything feel a little less scary.
He lifted his hand slightly in a small wave.
I smiled back before he was pulled into another conversation.
The game hadn't even started yet, and already I could feel the tension building beneath my ribs.
Maybe tonight will be fine.
Maybe the boys would keep their promise.
Maybe Delaney would keep his mouth shut for once.
But something told me tonight wasn't going to be that easy.
“You look tense.”
Allie noticed immediately from the seat behind me. The moment she found out what Delaney had done years ago—and what he had said during the last game—she insisted on coming with me tonight.
Her exact words were for moral support.
“Thanks,” I deadpanned, forcing out a weak laugh. “That's reassuring.”
The knot in my stomach only tightened. I could practically feel the nerves sitting at the base of my throat while I waited for the game to begin.
Allie leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me in a brief hug.
“They'll be fine,” she said softly. “Tonight's gonna be different. Don't worry.”
I nodded, though I wasn't entirely convinced.
Before I could reply, the crowd suddenly erupted into cheers.
The arena seemed to come alive all at once.
People stood from their seats, waving banners and screaming for their teams as the players began skating onto the ice. The bright arena lights reflected against the rink, making everything look sharper and louder somehow.
My heart started pounding.
One by one, the players took their positions.
The Hawks gathered near center ice while St. Anthony's lined up across from them.
I immediately spotted Dean.
Then Logan.
Then Tucker.
And finally, Delaney.
Even from the stands, my chest tightened at the sight of him.
Beside me, Allie's hand briefly squeezed my shoulder.
The players settled into position.
The referee stepped forward and dropped the puck.
The horn blasted throughout the arena.
The sound was so loud it rattled through my entire body, making my eardrums vibrate.
And just like that—
The game began.
The moment the puck hit the ice, the entire arena erupted.
Players collided almost immediately, skates carving sharp lines into the ice as both teams fought for possession. The sound echoed throughout the rink—sticks clashing, blades scraping, bodies slamming into the boards.
I hated how little I understood hockey.
Every time I thought I knew what was happening, the puck disappeared beneath a sea of players and suddenly everyone was skating in the opposite direction.
Beside me, Allie was screaming at something.
I had no idea what.
But everyone else seemed excited too, so I assumed it was good.
A few rows below us, Dean stole the puck and immediately sent it toward Logan.
The crowd cheered.
Logan carried it into the offensive zone before firing a shot toward the net.
The goalie blocked it.
A collective groan swept through the arena.
"Damn it!" Tucker shouted from the ice.
The game continued at a brutal pace.
Hit after hit rattled against the boards.
The Hawks were playing harder than I'd ever seen them before.
Not reckless.
Not angry.
Focused.
Like every ounce of frustration they carried was being poured directly into the game.
I found myself searching for Delaney every few seconds.
Every time he touched the puck, my stomach tightened.
Every time he skated near Dean, Logan, or Tucker, I instinctively held my breath.
Waiting.
Expecting something.
But nothing happened.
Not yet.
The first period passed without any major incidents.
By the start of the second period, the score remained tied.
The crowd had grown louder.
So had the players.
A hard hit near the boards earned a roar from the audience.
Another near-goal had everyone on their feet.
The tension in the arena felt almost physical now.
Then I saw it.
Delaney.
He was skating beside Logan near center ice.
They exchanged a few words.
Just a few.
Nothing anyone else would notice.
But I saw Logan's expression change immediately.
His jaw tightened.
His shoulders stiffened.
And for a terrifying second, I thought he was about to do exactly what I'd begged them not to do.
"Logan..." I whispered.
As if he could somehow hear me from across the rink.
Instead, Logan laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then he shoulder-checked Delaney so hard into the boards that the glass rattled.
The crowd exploded.
The referee allowed play to continue.
And Logan didn't even look back.
He simply stole the puck and skated away.
Beside me, Allie nearly stood up.
"Oh my God."
I couldn't help the small smile that pulled at my lips.
Just hockey.
That's what they promised.
And so far, they were keeping it.
The game remained tied heading into the third period.
Everyone in the arena was standing more than sitting now.
The energy felt electric.
One goal could change everything.
One mistake could end it.
I glanced toward the Hawks' bench and immediately spotted Garrett.
He wasn't on the ice tonight.
But somehow he looked more nervous than everyone actually playing.
His eyes followed every shift.
Every play.
Every shot.
Every hit.
Completely invested despite being forced to watch from the sidelines.
Then suddenly—
The puck broke loose.
Dean recovered it first.
A quick pass to Tucker.
Tucker immediately sent it toward Logan.
The crowd rose to their feet.
Logan accelerated.
One defender.
Then another.
The goalie shifted forward.
Logan wound up.
Shot.
The arena seemed to freeze for half a second.
Then the net moved.
The red light flashed.
And the entire building exploded.
Goal.
The Hawks bench emptied onto the ice.
Dean tackled Logan first.
Tucker followed immediately after.
The crowd was screaming so loudly I couldn't hear my own thoughts.
Beside me, Allie was practically shaking me by the shoulders.
I was laughing before I even realized it.
Across the ice, Logan pointed toward the stands.
Toward us.
Toward Garrett.
And the grin on his face told me exactly what he was thinking.
This wasn't for Delaney.
This wasn't about revenge.
This was about winning.
And somehow, that felt even better.
After their game, Allie and I decided to wait outside their locker room. We had already agreed earlier to go to Malone’s afterward to celebrate—no matter what the result was, but especially after a win like that.
We stood there for a few minutes, the hallway still buzzing with footsteps, distant laughter, and the faint echo of skates being unstrapped.
Then the door finally swung open.
The four of them came out together, still slightly flushed from the game, hair damp with sweat and energy still clinging to them like they hadn’t fully left the ice yet.
I didn’t wait.
I walked straight toward them and wrapped Garrett in a hug first.
“Great job on the ice, guys!” I said genuinely, squeezing him before pulling back just slightly.
Garrett let out a quiet laugh and held me for a second longer than necessary.
“Couldn’t have done it without us,” Dean said smugly as he stepped closer, immediately winking at me.
“As always,” he added.
Logan scoffed. “That was such an easy win.”
We all laughed together at that, the tension from earlier completely gone now, replaced by something light and victorious.
But then my mind drifted.
Delaney.
The way Logan had laughed earlier on the ice after that moment near the boards had stuck with me all game. Not because it seemed funny—but because I didn’t understand it.
And now, standing here, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Oh—by the way,” I said slowly, looking toward Logan. My tone softened slightly, more careful now. “What did he say to you earlier on the ice?”
Logan paused mid-smirk.
For a split second, the humor in his face flickered.
Then he glanced at Dean.
Then Tucker.
Then back at me.
And something unreadable crossed his expression.
The air shifted immediately.
Even Garrett, still holding onto my hand, went quiet.
Logan exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he was deciding whether or not to answer.
Then he finally shrugged.
“He didn’t really say anything worth repeating,” he said.
A beat.
“But let’s just say…” he added, his voice lower now, “he’s exactly as confident off the ice as he is on it.”
Dean let out a short laugh beside him, though it wasn’t entirely amused.
Tucker crossed his arms. “Translation: he was talking shit.”
Logan didn’t deny it.
Instead, he just smirked.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Something like that.”
I looked between all of them, my stomach tightening again.
Garrett’s grip on my hand squeezed lightly, grounding me without saying a word.
“Hey,” he said quietly, leaning closer to me. “It’s over. We won.”
I nodded slowly.
But even as I smiled back at him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever happened on that ice tonight…
wasn’t really over at all.
“Hey, don’t think about it too much,” Allie nudged me, clearly trying to lift the mood. “Let’s just get wasted tonight.”
“Hell yeah!” Tucker agreed immediately, striking an exaggerated drinking pose with Allie, which made both of them burst out laughing.
For a second, it almost worked.
It almost felt normal again.
We were already turning toward the exit, the locker room corridor slowly clearing out as people headed toward their plans for the night, when a voice stopped all of us in place.
“Hey! Must’ve been nice to just chill and take all the credit after, huh?”
The tone was sharp. Mocking. Familiar in a way I didn’t want it to be.
We all froze.
Then, slowly, we turned around.
Delaney stood a few feet behind us, hands loose at his sides like he had nothing to lose. His eyes weren’t on all of us at first—they landed on someone specific. Like he was choosing his target carefully.
“Must’ve been nice to roam around here like a man with a short dick to flaunt,” Allie shot back immediately without hesitation.
Dean made a sharp sound behind us, half a laugh, half disbelief.
But Delaney didn’t even react to her.
His gaze shifted.
And locked onto me.
The air in my lungs felt like it disappeared instantly.
The noise of the hallway blurred out. The voices, the footsteps, even the distant echoes from the arena—it all faded into something distant and muffled.
My chest tightened before I could even fully process it.
Memories came rushing in like a violent wave I didn’t have time to brace for.
Not here.
Not now.
Not again.
I felt myself go still.
Beside me, I barely registered Garrett stepping forward.
He moved without hesitation—cutting cleanly in front of me like a shield snapping into place.
And just like that, the others followed.
Dean shifted closer.
Logan stepped up on the other side.
Tucker angled his body so I was completely behind them, out of view.
Allie stayed beside me, her hand instantly finding mine, squeezing hard.
“Don’t you dare,” Garrett said quietly, voice low and dangerous.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just final.
The kind of tone that didn’t invite argument.
Delaney’s eyes flicked over them, clearly amused.
But I wasn’t looking at him anymore.
I was looking at the wall of people in front of me.
People who didn’t move aside.
People who didn’t hesitate.
People who didn’t let him reach me.
And for the first time since he spoke…
I could breathe again.
“What’s this?” Delaney scoffed, glancing at the wall of bodies standing between him and me. “An army defending the lying whore?”
The laughter from the guys behind him echoed down the hallway.
Before I could even react, Dean lunged forward.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him shove Delaney hard and grab him by the front of his jacket.
“Say that again, you criminal prick,” Dean growled, his voice low and dangerous.
I had never heard that kind of anger from Dean before.
Garrett, Logan, and Tucker immediately stepped in, grabbing Dean before things could escalate further. But none of them backed away from Delaney. If anything, they stood even closer, their expressions dark and unyielding.
Delaney only smirked.
“You want another suspension?” he asked mockingly, his gaze drifting between Dean and Garrett. “Because your team sure as hell can't afford another one.”
Dean tried to lunge again, but Garrett tightened his grip on his shoulder.
“You know, for someone who runs his mouth every chance he gets off the ice, you really sucked out there tonight.” Logan laughed, trying to break the tension while still getting a jab in.
A few people nearby snorted.
“What was it you told me earlier?” Logan pretended to think, tapping his chin dramatically before stepping closer to Delaney. “Oh, right. You said the Bruins wouldn't recruit me after college.”
He grinned.
“Funny thing is—they already did.”
Tucker let out a loud laugh beside him.
“And you?” Logan continued with a shrug. “You'll probably stay exactly where you are. Because sooner or later, Mommy won't be around to save your ass anymore.”
That earned a louder reaction from the crowd.
For the first time since Delaney appeared, I felt some of the tension leave my chest.
Delaney's smile faltered.
“What would you know about mothers, Logan?” one of Delaney's friends mocked from behind him.
Logan didn't even hesitate.
“What about you?” he shot back. “You seem to know a lot about criminals considering your best friend is one.”
He pointed directly at Delaney.
The hallway instantly went quiet.
Every trace of amusement disappeared from Delaney's face.
“Careful,” Delaney said, taking a threatening step forward.
“Or what?” Logan challenged. “You'll punch me too?”
“Logan,” Garrett warned.
But Logan only smirked.
Before Delaney could get any closer, Garrett stepped in front of Logan and shoved him back slightly.
“You can say whatever you want, Delaney,” Garrett said coldly, his jaw clenched, “but it doesn't change the fact that you're just as shitty off the ice as you are on it.”
The smile on Delaney's face vanished.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Garrett turned his back on him.
“Let's go.”
He grabbed Dean by the shoulder and nudged Logan forward before they could say anything else. Tucker quickly followed behind them, muttering something about not wasting time on idiots.
When Garrett reached me, his hand immediately found mine.
He squeezed it tightly.
I squeezed back.
I knew how much self-control that had taken.
How badly Garrett wanted to wipe the smug look off Delaney's face.
But he didn't.
He chose to walk away.
And for a second, I thought that was the end of it.
Then I heard footsteps.
Fast.
Aggressive.
Before anyone could react, Delaney charged forward from behind.
His fist connected with Garrett's jaw with a sickening crack.
The sound echoed through the hallway.
Garrett staggered sideways, nearly losing his footing as the force of the punch snapped his head to the side.
“Garrett!” I shouted.
Everything happened at once after that.
Dean lunged first.
Logan cursed loudly.
Tucker grabbed whoever he could reach.
People started yelling.
The crowd that had gathered scattered immediately as chaos erupted around us.
Garrett wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
A small streak of blood stained his knuckles.
Slowly, he looked back at Delaney.
And somehow, that was worse.
Because Garrett wasn't shouting.
Wasn't threatening him.
Wasn't even moving.
He was just staring.
The kind of stare that made everyone around him take a nervous step back.
The kind that said his patience had finally run out.
Garrett's fist connected with Delaney's jaw.
Hard.
Not a single word left his mouth.
No warning. No threat. No dramatic speech.
Just one clean punch after Delaney had thrown the first one.
The crowd erupted immediately.
People started shouting. Players rushed forward. Someone blew a whistle from somewhere down the hallway.
My heart nearly stopped.
“Garrett!” I shouted, instinctively trying to run toward him.
But before I could get far, Allie grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the corner.
“Wait.”
“What are you doing?” I asked frantically, trying to look past her.
Instead of answering, she shoved her phone in front of my face.
The screen was recording.
Everything.
Delaney's insults.
The confrontation.
The shove.
The punch.
My eyes widened.
“Since when?” I asked.
Allie didn't even look away from the screen.
“Since Delaney started running his mouth like the prick he is.”
The camera continued recording the chaos unfolding in front of us.
Players were being separated. Coaches were yelling. Security was already making their way over.
My stomach twisted.
“Did...” I swallowed hard. “Did you get him throwing the first punch?”
Immediately, my mind jumped to the worst possible outcome.
Suspensions.
Investigations.
Delaney lying again.
People believing him again.
The same nightmare repeating itself.
Allie finally glanced at me.
A smug smile appeared on her face.
“Yes, baby.”
Relief hit me so hard my knees nearly gave out.
“Don't worry,” she said, lifting the phone slightly. “Delaney won't be playing much after this.”
She said it so casually.
So confidently.
Like she hadn't just captured the exact thing that could destroy whatever excuse Delaney was about to come up with.
I stared at her.
“Don't worry,” she says.
As if it were that easy.
As if my body wasn't already bracing for another fight. Another lie. Another battle against someone who always seemed to get away with everything.
But for the first time in a long time, I wasn't relying on memories.
Or testimonies.
Or people choosing whether to believe me.
This time, there was proof.
And as I looked at the video playing on Allie's phone, showing Delaney charging forward and throwing the first punch, I felt something I hadn't felt in years.
Maybe this time, he wouldn't get away with it.
I saw Garrett coming over, and relief washed over my face as I immediately stood up and pulled him into a hug.
He didn’t hesitate for even a second—his arms wrapped around me just as tightly, grounding me in place like he always did.
For a moment, everything else faded. The shouting. The chaos in the hallway. Delaney. The recording. All of it.
I just held onto him, breathing in the familiar calm of his presence.
Just glad he was here.
Thankful that, after everything, I had people I could trust now—people who didn’t leave when things got ugly, people who stayed even when it would’ve been easier not to.
“Why don’t we go clean up at Malone’s and actually have a proper celebration tonight?” I suggested lightly, trying to shift the weight of everything that had just happened into something softer.
For a moment, there was silence—like everyone was still catching up to the idea of normal again.
Then Tucker let out a breathy laugh, still trying to recover.
“Now this,” he said, shaking his head as he straightened up, “is actually worth celebrating.”
Logan scoffed. “You almost got your jaw rearranged and you’re talking about celebrating?”
Tucker pointed at him. “Exactly. More reason to celebrate.”
Dean let out a short laugh despite himself, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the adrenaline. “We’re definitely going to Malone’s.”
Garrett finally exhaled, shaking his head as he glanced at all of us.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling me a little closer to his side, “let’s go”
And just like that—despite everything still hanging in the air—we all started laughing, the sound breaking through the tension like something we badly needed.