Page 77 of Ethan
From Max’s other side, Charlie made a scoffing noise. “He’s not gonna tell you,” he said.
Ethan made a face and dealt with it, making sure tonotfavor the side he wanted to after that because screw Charlie, hecouldhandle it.
One of the trainers pulled him aside between the first and the second, to make sure he didn’t need anything, but Ethan waved him off. It was just a bruise. He could deal with bruises. This washockey.
And it sure helped because the second was almost over when Ethan caught a great pass from Sasha—it was onlyhissecond year, and Ethan hadn’t been sure what to make of the guy, because his English wasn’t awesome, and he’d also been stuck on the fourth line, right along Ethan—and slid the puck right between the goalie’s legs, scoring his first NHL goal.
“That’s fucking it,” Charlie said when Ethan skated by the bench and felt his brother’s helmet tap even long after it ended.
When the game ended, with a score of four to two, notching the Bandits’ first win of the season, Ethan would’ve been a lot more pissed, because he was being targeted,no question, but his goal and Charlie’s two points and thewinhelped assuage at least some of the pain.
“Shit,” Danny said, next to him, when Ethan pulled his gear off. “You’re bruised to hell, kid.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, wincing a little as he poked at the spots that had already gone multicolored.
“Seriously,” Danny continued, like Ethan had actually bitched, even though he’d actually done the opposite. “That kind of fuckery just isn’t cool. I don’t know why those guys still do that shit.”
“You know why,” Max said, from a few stalls down. “Thinks it makes them cool.”
“Doesn’t,” Brock retorted without heat.
“Don’t have to tellmethat,” Danny said.
“Yeah.” Charlie barked out a laugh. “’Cause you’ve never been cool a day in your life.”
Danny made an outraged squawk, the room dissolving into shouts and laughter, and Ethan was glad.
He was pissed, sure, and he hadn’tenjoyedit, but he didn’t want to give a single person on this team the opportunity to say he couldn’t hack it. That he was resting on his last name, using Charlie to shield him.
After he showered and waited for Charlie to finish his interminable post-game routineandmedia session, Ethan pulled out his phone.
He wasn’t surprised to see a whole bunch of texts. A string on his family’s group chat, and even more, all from Avery, on the bro-chat.
Even more congratulations andgood jobsfrom his old Evergreen teammates and even a message from his coach at Portland, Gavin Blackburn.
But Ethan scrolled past all of them, to find his convo with Hank. Sure enough, there were a ton of new messages.
shit, what the fuck are these guys doing to you?
I mean, I know, but it’s bullshit.
Ten minutes later, like Hank had been stewing about it for the whole intermission.
I fucking wish I was there. I’d stop them.
Something warm and sweet bloomed inside Ethan, and sure, he’djustthought that he didn’t want special treatment from his teammates. That he didn’t want them to make a big deal out of what was kind of a rite of passage. But whenHanksaid he wanted to throw down and protect Ethan, that melted his heart and made him hot under the collar.
Ethan kept scrolling. There were some comments on the game. On Ethan’s goal. The text that Hank had sent about it wasn’t all that different than the others he’d gotten, but it made him flush, anyway.
And finishing up the thread, Hank had sent one last text:remember. text me when you’re on your way home.
Like Ethan was going to forget. That hadn’t been likely, even before Hank’s reminder, and now it was even less likely, after hearing how Hank had been pissed and ready todosomething about how the other team had been on Ethan’s ass all game.
Ethan’s fingers hovered over the screen. He should say something but he felt so much, how could he possibly break it all down into a few letters and words?
Nothing he typed was going to express even a fraction of it.
Not a situation he’d ever encountered before. Every other emotion had always been easy enough to express.
