Denial

Chloe was waiting by my car. She was leaning against the driver’s side door, her arms crossed over her cream sweater.

"Hey," I said, my voice sounding rough.

She ran to me, hugging me tightly.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"Jax? Yeah. The trainer says it’s just some bruising. He should be out later tonight ."

Chloe nodded slowly. "I’ve never seen you skate that fast, Liam. Not even for a championship goal. When he went down... you looked like someone had just ripped your heart out of your chest."

"He's my teammate, Chloe. I'm the Captain. It's my job to…"

"Toby is your best friend," she interrupted. .

"Toby has taken hits twice that hard, and you always wait for the whistle. You always wait for the trainer. But with Jax... you didn't even wait for the play to stop."

"I was just worried," I stammered, the lies tasting like ash in my mouth. "With everything happening at school... the drama... I just didn't want any more trouble."

Chloe looked at me for a long time. Then, she reached out and softly touched the C on my jersey.

"You want me to hang out with you tonight? I know everything is just too much for you right now. I’m so sorry.”

“ I really appreciate you baby.” I kissed her. “But I’ll be okay.”

“ Simpson!!” It was coach Mike. He was holding a limping Jax. Chloe looked relieved. I kissed her again before she got into her car and drove off.

Jax was leaning heavily on my shoulder, his arm over my neck. Every time his skate bruised leg hit the pavement, he let out a sharp breath through his teeth. I gripped his waist tighter, trying to take as much of his weight as I could.

We reached the door of the apartment, and I struggled with the keys while trying to keep him upright.

"I’ve got it," Jax muttered, though his face was pale and a bead of sweat was rolling down his temple.

"Shut up, Miller," I grunted, finally getting the door open. "You can barely stand."

I guided him inside. He sat on the edge, his head dropping into his hands. I didn't turn on the overhead light. I just clicked on the small desk lamp, casting a dim, golden glow over the room. I went to the mini fridge, grabbed an ice pack, and wrapped it in a thin towel.

"Here," I said, leaning over him to press it against the side of his head where the helmet had buckled.

Jax didn't take the ice pack from me. He just sat there, letting me hold it against his skin. His eyes were half-closed, but he was watching me.

"Chloe was at the glass," Jax said suddenly. His voice was raspy. "I saw her. When you were on your knees next to me…”

My hand tensed against his head. "She was just worried. Everyone was. It was a nasty hit, Jax."

"Toby was worried," Jax countered, finally reaching up to grip my wrist, pulling my hand and the ice pack away from his face. He looked me straight in the eyes. "Toby waited for the whistle. You didn't. You didn't even wait for the puck to clear the zone. You just ran."

I looked away. "I'm the Captain. It’s my job to look after the team."

Jax let out a short, dry laugh that turned into a wince of pain.

"Stop it, Liam. Stop the Capra talk.

He leaned forward, his forehead almost touching my chest. "Why do you care so much? Why did you look like the world was ending when I didn't get up?" He was teasing me now and I wasn’t going to take it.

I couldn't answer.

"I have to go get you some water.”

I pulled my hand back, breaking the contact.

*******

The next morning, I met Chloe for breakfast at the student café. She was scrolling through her phone, looking at photos from the game.

"You really were the hero of the night, Liam," she said.

She showed me a photo someone had posted on social media. It was a shot of me kneeling over Jax, my face twisted in panic. "The comments are all about how much you care about the team's success. They're calling it true leadership.”

"People love a good story," I said, stabbing at my eggs.

"They do," Chloe agreed.

"I'm just glad Jax is okay. It would be a shame for the team to lose such a good player right before the trade meetings."

But as I walked to my next class, I kept feeling the ghost of Jax’s hand on my wrist.