Chapter 6: The Hit

The arena was loud.

Sebastian stepped onto the ice for warmups and felt the energy buzzing through the stands. The Vancouver crowd was hungry for a win. The Storm had lost three of their last four, and the fans were getting restless. A win against Calgary would quiet some of the noise.

But Calgary had Julian Frost.

Sebastian had not spoken to Julian since the wedding. Five years of Sunday dinners had ended when Sebastian stopped coming. He told himself he was busy with hockey. But the truth was simpler. He could not sit across from Julian anymore without feeling something he did not want to feel.

Now Julian was on the other side of the ice, wearing a red and white jersey, his dark hair tucked under his helmet. He looked the same. Tall, lean, quiet. But there was something different about the way he moved. A slight hesitation in his left leg. Sebastian noticed it because he had been watching Julian for years, even when he pretended not to.

The puck dropped.

The first period was fast and physical. Both teams came out hitting, testing each other, looking for weaknesses. Sebastian stayed away from Julian. He told himself it was strategy. Julian was dangerous with the puck, so Sebastian would let someone else cover him.

But in the second period, the puck came to Sebastian along the boards. He saw an opening, a chance to drive to the net. He put his head down and pushed.

He did not see Reeves coming.

Reeves was a defenseman known around the league for one thing. Hurting people. He was big, mean, and he did not care about the rules. Sebastian had played against him before. He knew to keep his head up when Reeves was on the ice.

But this time, he forgot.

The hit came from the blind side. Reeves' shoulder caught Sebastian square in the back, just below the neck. The impact was brutal. Sebastian felt his spine compress, his head snap forward, his teeth clack together. He was thrown into the boards face first, his helmet cracking against the glass.

The world went white.

He landed on the ice, facedown, unable to move. His ears were ringing. His vision was blurred. He could feel blood dripping from somewhere, maybe his nose, maybe his mouth. He tried to push himself up, but his arms would not listen.

Through the fog, he heard a whistle. Heard shouting. Heard something that sounded like a fight.

Then he heard a voice he knew.

"Get off him!"

Julian.

Sebastian rolled onto his side just in time to see Julian grab Reeves by the collar and throw him against the boards. Julian's face was twisted with anger, something Sebastian had never seen before. Julian did not fight. Julian was the quiet one, the polite one, the one who took hits and got up and kept playing.

But now Julian was throwing punches. His fists connected with Reeves' face, once, twice, three times. Blood sprayed across the ice. The referee was trying to pull them apart, but Julian would not stop.

"Nobody hits him like that!" Julian was shouting. "Nobody!"

The other players piled on. The linesmen dragged Julian away. His knuckles were bloody, his jersey torn, his chest heaving. He was still shouting, still trying to get at Reeves, still protecting Sebastian even though the play was over.

The referee raised his arm. Five minutes for fighting. A game misconduct. Julian was done for the night.

As they led him to the penalty box, Julian looked back. His eyes found Sebastian, still on the ice, still trying to get up. For a moment, just a moment, something passed between them. Not anger. Not hatred. Something else. Something that looked like fear. Like Julian was scared for him.

Then Julian was gone, skating toward the tunnel, disappearing into the shadows.

Sebastian finally got to his feet. His head was pounding. His back was screaming. But he stayed on the ice. He finished the period. He finished the game.

They lost. Again.

But Sebastian could not stop thinking about Julian's face. The way he had fought for him. The way he had looked at him.

Nobody hits him like that.

---

After the game, Sebastian sat in the locker room with an ice pack on his neck. The trainers had checked him out. No concussion, they said. Just bruises. He would be fine.

But he was not fine. His head was spinning, and it was not from the hit.

Louie sat down next to him. "That was crazy. Frost going after Reeves like that. I have never seen him fight."

"Yeah."

"You think he did it for you?"

Sebastian looked at Louie. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you are stepbrothers, right? Maybe he was looking out for family."

Sebastian shook his head. "We are not really family. Not like that."

"Could have fooled me. The guy almost killed Reeves. For you."

Sebastian did not answer. He sat there, ice pack melting down his neck, trying to understand what had happened.

---

The locker room cleared out. Sebastian took his time showering, dressing, packing his bag. He did not want to go home. He did not want to sit in his apartment and think about Julian.

But when he finally walked out to the parking garage, Julian was there.

He was leaning against a pillar, his street clothes on, his right hand wrapped in a bandage. His face was pale, his eyes tired. He looked smaller without his gear, without the helmet hiding his face.

"Sebastian."

Sebastian stopped. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. That hit was bad."

"I am fine."

Julian stepped closer. "Your nose is bleeding."

Sebastian touched his face. His fingers came away red. He had not even noticed.

"It is nothing."

"It is not nothing." Julian's voice was quiet, but firm. "You could have been hurt. Seriously hurt."

"Why do you care?"

The question came out harsher than Sebastian intended. Julian flinched, just a little.

"Because I have always cared," Julian said. "Even when you did not want me to."

They stood there in the empty garage, the only sounds the distant hum of the arena and the dripping of water somewhere in the darkness. Sebastian wanted to say something. Wanted to ask about the camp, about the kiss, about the seven years of silence. But the words would not come.

Julian reached out, touched Sebastian's arm. Just a light touch, barely there.

"Get some rest," Julian said. "And maybe see a doctor. Just in case."

He turned and walked away. Sebastian watched him go, the same way he had watched him go a hundred times before. The same way he had watched him go at the wedding. On the porch. In the hallway outside his room.

But this time, something was different. This time, Sebastian did not want him to leave.

"Julian."

Julian stopped. He did not turn around.

"Thank you," Sebastian said. "For what you did out there. For defending me."

Julian looked over his shoulder. His face was hard to read in the dim light, but Sebastian thought he saw something soft in his eyes.

"You do not have to thank me," Julian said. "I will always protect you. Even if you hate me for it."

He walked away. This time, he did not look back.

Sebastian stood there for a long time, alone in the garage, the ice pack still pressed to his neck. His head was pounding. His chest was aching. And for the first time in seven years, he wondered if maybe he had been wrong about Julian Frost.

Maybe he was not the enemy.

Maybe he was something else entirely.