Watch Your Dog

Asher’s POV

Philip texted me the location right after the game ended, and I didn’t really plan on coming at first, but after the coach meeting about the upcoming draft talk for elite leagues, I needed somewhere to clear my head before going home.

The Falcons had been beaten tonight, and everyone knew it, so the energy in the city was either celebration or bitterness depending on which side you were on.

The bar was easy to find.

Maybe a little too easy since it was just around the corner of the hockey ring.

Music was already spilling out into the street before I even stepped in, loud enough to feel it in my chest. Inside, it was crowded, warm, and full of people trying too hard to forget things. I scanned the room once before I spotted Philip at a table near the back, already waving like he owned the place.

I walked over and sat down without saying much.

Philip immediately leaned in like he had been waiting all night just to talk.

“You missed it,” he said with a grin. “The Falcons are here too, and their sad faces are worth every dime you have.”

I glanced around the room but didn’t see them yet.

“We just played them,” I said.

“Exactly,” Philip replied. “And I may or may not have said a few things when I saw them.”

I sighed slightly. “What did you say?”

He smiled wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Nothing serious. Just reminded them who won.”

Cole gave a short laugh from across the table but didn’t look impressed either way. August wasn’t on the table with them, and that was the first thing I noticed.

“Where is August?” I asked.

Philip leaned back in his chair. “Bathroom. I think.”

My brow tightened slightly. “How long ago?”

“A while,” Philip said, already distracted with his drink. “Relax, Asher. He’s fine.”

I didn’t respond right away because I was already thinking about it. August had been off since before the game started. I noticed it early, the slower reactions, the missed timing, the way he kept checking his phone before warm-up. I had asked him once, and he said nothing was wrong, but I knew better.

Gigi had broken up with him earlier that day.

It shouldn’t have mattered to him during a game, but it clearly did. August had always been emotional in a way he tried to hide behind humor and alcohol. Tonight, it showed.

“If you knew he wasn’t himself, you should’ve kept an eye on him,” I said to Philip.

Philip let out a small laugh like I was overreacting. “He’s not a kid, Asher. He’s fine. He just needs time.”

“That’s not the point,” I replied.

Cole leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “He’s a grown man. He can take care of himself.”

I looked at him briefly but didn’t argue with that part. Instead, I said, “Even grown men make bad decisions when they’re not thinking clearly.”

Philip shook his head. “You worry too much.”

“I don’t worry too much,” I said, standing up.

That made both of them pause slightly.

“Where are you going?” Philip asked.

“To check on him,” I said simply.

Philip sighed. “Asher, seriously? He’s in the bathroom. He’s not lost.”

I didn’t sit back down.

“I’m still checking,” I repeated, already turning away from the table.

No one followed me, but I could feel their eyes on my back as I walked through the bar. The noise felt louder now, like it was pressing in on me from every direction. I moved past groups of people, past tables full of laughter and drinking, but my focus was already narrowing toward the hallway.

The bathroom corridor was quieter and the lights were dimmer than the ones inside, I slowed slightly as I reached the end of the hall and saw the bathroom door.

It was not fully closed, and I was hearing the sounds from inside that was almost drowned out by the blasting music.

At first I thought it was moans from strangers hooking up, after all it happens more frequently at a place like this but when the music dies down a little I heard it clearly. It sounded like someone was struggling, I pushed the door open and froze at the sight of what I saw.

August had someone pinned against the wall, and the boy was struggling while trying to push August off but was clearly failing at that.

The situation was obvious even before I processed everything properly. August’s grip was too tight, his balance slightly off, his movements unsteady like he was running on instinct rather than awareness. The boy was pushing at him, trying to get free, clearly uncomfortable, clearly not in control of what was happening.

“August,” I said sharply.

No response.

I stepped in fast and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back with force.

“Let go,” I ordered.

For a moment, he resisted, his body tensing like he didn’t want to be moved, but I pulled harder and forced space between them. It took a second before he finally stumbled back into my hold.

The boy immediately stepped away, breathing hard, fixing his shirt and glaring at August like he was deciding whether to hit him or leave.

August was still not fully present. His eyes were unfocused, his breathing uneven. I tightened my grip slightly to steady him before he fell.

“Gigi…” he muttered under his breath.

That stupid name again.

Goddess, what have that girl done to him)

I exhaled slowly and kept him upright. “August. Look at me.”

He blinked slowly, like the room was only just forming in his head now.

The boy straightened fully now, anger clear in his expression. He wiped his mouth once with the back of his hand, jaw tight, eyes locked on August like he was holding back something worse.

I turned slightly toward him.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he just looked at August then he stepped forward and punched him.

Hard.

The impact snapped August’s head slightly to the side. He stumbled back but I kept him steady so he didn’t fall completely. He cursed under his breath, still confused, still half-lost in whatever state he was in.

The boy shook his hand out once, breathing heavier now, then pointed at me.

“Watch your dog,” he said coldly. “Or train him better before he does harm to other people.”

Then he turned and walked out, slamming the door loudly behind him. Silence filled the bathroom again, except for August’s uneven breathing.

I stood there for a moment, still holding him up, looking down at him with a tired frustration building in my chest.

“Seriously,” I muttered under my breath, adjusting my grip slightly so he didn’t slide down the wall. “What did you do this time, August?”