Reyne

The hockey house has always felt like home to you. In the past few years you’ve spent there, it’s felt more like home than your father’s house ever did.

Maybe it was because Garrett lived there. Or maybe because of the countless movie nights, post-game celebrations, sunday breakfasts, or parties you’d been a part of.

You loved spending time over there, teasing your brother about how whipped he was for Hannah, keeping track of Dean’s countless hookups, or being the taste tester for whatever incredible creation Tucker was making. And the moments you got to spend with a certain brown haired star forward were just an added bonus.

Tonight was another one of those post-game celebrations. The Briar Hawks had won, obviously.

You hadn’t actually planned on coming. Midterms were looming over your head, and you’d fully intended to spend the evening studying. But with combined pleading and guilt tripping from Hannah and Garrett, you relented and allowed yourself to be swept up in the celebrations.

The house is already buzzing when you arrive with Hannah. Music pours from the speakers, people yelling to hear each other over the noise, and somewhere in the kitchen someone let out a triumphant whoop.

Garrett is the first to greet you guys at the door, kissing Hannah before high-fiving you and nodding towards the kitchen.

“Logan’s in there,” he gestures. “Green sweatshirt, you can’t miss him.”

Your voice jumps an octave. “Why would I care where he is?” you ask, cheeks burning despite yourself.

Hannah rolls her eyes.

“You guys have been playing this game since freshman year,” she says, exasperation evident in her voice. “It’s clear you both like each other, so save all of us the awkward tension and just get together already!”

You gasp. “Hannah Wells!” you say with mock indignation. “How dare you?”

She just laughs before disappearing in the crowd, pulling Garrett with her.

“Best of luck!” she calls out.

You feel a laugh building up your own throat as you enter the kitchen. You’re leaning with your back against the island, watching everyone, when you feel a warm presence at your side. You know without looking that it’s Logan.

“Would m’lady care for a drink?” He asked, holding up a can of something alcoholic.

“This lady would care for more than one drink.” You joke. “Just keep them coming.”

He smiles as he opens the can in front of you.

His hand brushes yours as he hands it to you, sparks of something electric passing through where your fingers touch. Your eyes flit to his, and you know he feels it too.

“So, uh….” you start awkwardly. “Congratulations on the win today.”

His face breaks into a genuine grin, one he gets only when he’s talking about hockey.

“It was such a close one,” he says. “I was convinced halfway through the game that we’re going to lose, but man did we turn that around.”

You’re actually listening to his words, and you open your mouth to compliment him on his slapshot in the first period when you see Garrett and Hannah making their way to you.

“It’s time for the team tradition.” Is all Garrett says before grabbing Logan and leading him away. Logan gives you an apologetic smile before following.

You take a sip of your drink, ignoring Hannah’s knowing look as one of your favourite songs starts blasting from the speakers.

“Oh my god, I can’t not dance to this!”

You go to the dance floor with a shriek, dancing and completely enjoying yourself with your drink in hand.

The music is loud, and everyone else is also singing the lyrics. For a few minutes, you lose yourself in the music completely.

Then you feel someone behind you.

Turning, you catch a hint of short, dark hair and a grin that was dangerous, though not in a fun way.

You don’t move away yet. He’s maintaining a respectful distance, you don’t feel as though you’re in any immediate danger, so you decide not to make a big deal out of it and continue dancing.

A few moments later, the song changes, and you hear your brother call your name from the kitchen.

You make your way there, still smiling from the dance.

The kitchen is filled with people buzzing around, enjoying the vibes and the food.

You sit on the counter, throwing away your finished drink and smiling at Logan when he gets you another.

You’re having a spirited conversation with your brother about who takes longer in the bathroom, while Logan throws in occasional comments which makes the argument worse. 

It takes you a moment to realise that Hannah’s gaze keeps drifting to your drink, sitting a few inches beside you on the counter.

You frown slightly.

Following her line of sight, you notice her tense as she looks at somebody over your shoulder. She doesn’t say anything about it though, so you pin it to her constant hypervigilance

Her hypervigilance has never been something that you’ve found extreme of her. You love Hannah. You know all about her history, and the fact that she’s always concerned for yours and other’s safety? That’s just a detail that made you love her more.

A few drinks later, you guys end up sitting on the couch, watching the game recap and yelling loudly over the commentary. Your drink is kept amongst many others on the coffee table, half forgotten as you curse out one of the opposing team members on tv for shoulder checking Dean.

A shadow suddenly looms over you.

Looking up, you see that it’s the same guy from before, on the dance floor. You give him a tight lipped smile.

“Hi.”

He sits in the empty space of the couch beside you, leaning forward as he speaks.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hannah suddenly reach over and shift your drink closer to herself.

The guy just glances at her with an unreadable expression before removing his hand from his pocket and holding it out to you.

“Ivan. James Ivan.” he says, smiling in a pompous way that just instantly makes you dislike him.

“Hey James.” you say cautiously. “Was there anything you wanted?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan’s jaw clench as he glances at the interaction, trying but failing to look unaffected. You file that away for later.

“Well, for starters, your number would be great.” James says in such a self assured way, like he just offered you the greatest gift life could ever give you.

“I’m actually not looking for anything serious right now.” you say politely. “Thanks though.”

James’ expression twists into something ugly, shattering the confident man persona. A dark look passes over his features before he schools his expression.

“Right. Well, good luck to you.”

And without another word, he gets up and leaves. You roll your eyes to Hannah and take another sip as she hands you your drink.

The night progresses.The music was loud enough to rattle the windows, and the crowd’s energy has reached its peak.

You were near the dance floor, teasing Logan about something stupid he said. You were gesturing wildly, so you had kept your drink on the table next to you. You were keeping an eye on it diligently, of course.

In your peripheral vision, you notice Hannah and Garrett in the kitchen, looking so happy with each other.

“In my defense, I said that after a few drinks.” Logan says, putting his hands up. “It was Dean’s fault for believ-”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his defense, as a sound from somewhere next to you draws your attention.

It was the same guy. Jake… James? You didn’t remember his name. The source of the noise was him stumbling over a discarded hockey stick, with an angry expression flashing on his face. The second he notices you and Logan looking, his eyes widen.

He quickly bends down, picks up something he’d dropped in the fall, pockets it, and backs away without another word.

You watch him get enveloped by the crowd.

A second later, you notice Hannah making her way over to you. She glances at the spot where the guy disappeared, and then your drink. 

She stares at it for a second, uncertainty clouding her eyes, before making a decision.

She picks up your drink… and proceeds to dump it in a nearby trashbag.

You give her a confused, questioning look.

“That guy has been hovering around a lot.” she explains softly. “I didn’t notice if he actually managed to spike it before he fell, but…” she shakes her head, still looking worried. “I’m not taking any risks.”

You nod, completely agreeing with her. “Yeah, of course.” You say. “I can just ask Logan to get me another one.”

“Did I hear my name?” he appears beside you suddenly, his eyes fixed on you.

You bat your eyelashes and ask him in an extra sweet voice. “Log, can you get me another drink?”

His eyes soften, and he nods before disappearing to get it.

“That man is obsessed with you,” Hannah comments.

“Oh, shut up!”

As the party starts winding down, your mind begins to wander.

You suddenly wonder if your math teacher sent the resources she said she would. You press the power button on your phone, only to see the dead battery symbol flashing at you.

Sighing, you turn to your brother.

“Can I borrow your charger?” You plead. “My phone’s dead, and I need to check my email.”

“You know where it is.” he says, tilting his head to the staircase.

You smile at him before heading upstairs, making your way to his room.

Hannah had a weird feeling about this party. Nothing had really happened, not enough to justify the knot in her stomach. But that guy that kept hanging around you was giving her weird vibes all night. And after everything, Hannah had learned to trust those vibes.

She watches you head upstairs, not thinking much of it at first.

Then a second later, she sees that same creepy guy glance around the room. His eyes follow you.

He heads for the staircase.

She stiffens, and then understands there’s no time to lose.

“Garrett.” she uses a voice she doesn’t adopt often. It makes Garrett turn to her immediately, concern flashing across her face. It even catches Logan’s attention, who’s standing next to Garrett.

She keeps her eyes trained on the staircase. “Some dude just followed your sister upstairs.”

Logan goes completely still.

“And that guy has been hovering around her the entire party.” she continues. “I think he tried to slip something in her drink, but I don’t know if he succeeded. I still threw it away, just to be on the safe side.”

Silence falls between them for a split second, before Garrett speaks. His voice is low enough to send a chill down Hannah’s psine.

“Let’s go.”

You plug your phone into Garrett’s charger in his room. As you wait for it to charge enough to turn on, you hear a noise outside the door. Assuming it’s just Hannah or one of the guys, you speak.

“Give me a minute, my phone is just-”

The words get stuck in your throat when you realise it’s no one you expected.

It’s James.

You instinctively take a step back.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Well I came here for you, ofcourse.” he says, stepping in like he owns the place before quietly closing the door behind him.

“I already told you, I’m not interested!” you say, frustration creeping into your voice.

“Well that obviously can’t be true.” he says, a lazy smirk gracing his face, sending chills through you.

“It is true.” you say, trying to sound firm.

He takes a step toward you. Then another.

Without thinking, you move backwards until your back hits the wall.

That’s when you realize you’re in trouble.

Your eyes dart around the room, looking for some form of escape, but he’s standing too close, crowding over you in such a way that you’re effectively trapped.

You slip your hand in your pocket, thinking that you might be able to call someone discreetly.

Your stomach drops.

Your phone is still charging on Garrett’s table.

“Get away from me.” you tell him.

James just chuckles. “You’re making this way more dramatic than it needs to be.”

“Get away from me!” you repeat, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

“Princess,” he starts. The nickname makes you want to hurl.

“We’re already here. Why are you still playing hard to get?”

“I’m not playing hard to get, asshole.” You spit out. “I’m not playing anything. I said no.”

He doesn’t move, so you make a split second decision.

You duck to your right, and for one brief second, you think you’ve done it…

Then you feel a cold hand catch your collar, making you shudder as it jerks you back and into the wall.

Your breathing picks up as you look into James’ eyes. They’re fully dark now, something scary lurking in them. His hands move to your wrists, pinning them above your head with all his body weight, leaving you with no chance of escaping.

You hear the bass from downstairs making the walls of the house thump. Voices, laughter carrying up, so close yet so far away.

James leans down next to your ear, his breath ghosting over your neck and making you feel sick.

“C’mon, princess.” He croons. “You know you want this.”

Before you could say or do anything, the door slams open to your right. You whip your head toward it, meeting Logan’s eyes.

You make use of James’ momentary distraction to pull your knee up, hitting his crotch, your hands getting freedom as he retracts them in pain, crying out.

“Ouch, you absolute-”

He doesn’t get to finish.

Garrett storms into the room, all 6’1” of pure muscle and anger. Grabbing James by the shoulders, he shoves him into the opposing wall, clearing up space around you.

You’re still having trouble catching your breath. You’re hyperventilating, your hands shaking as Logan and Hannah come near you.

“I’m going to get you your bag and a glass of water, okay honey?” you hear Hannah’s soft, soothing voice break through your panic. You manage to give a small nod as she shares a look with Logan before tuning to head out.

As she reaches the door, Dean and Tucker appear, having been drawn up after hearing all the commotion. Their concern is clear in their features.

As she makes her way to the door, she pauses beside Garrett. Who’s just shoved James back into the wall so hard that the picture frames rattled. For a second, you’re not even sure he hears Hannah say his name.

“Garrett.”

He gives James a mean right hook, the sound echoing through the room. It makes you flinch.

It’s small, almost unnoticeable, but your brother notices, and his entire body stills.

He knows that flinch. He’s seen that flinch. Hell, he’s flinched that flinch.

And suddenly, Garrett isn’t looking at James anymore. He makes himself take a step back, forcing him to breathe.

Moments later, Dean and Tucker appear in the doorway, their expressions shifting as they take in the scene. They don’t ask questions. Your face, along with the way Garrett was staring daggers at James, says enough.

“Take him away.” Garrett says gruffly.

Dean and Tucker move immediately, grabbing James by his upper arms and pulling him before he can react.

“Get your hands off me!” James snaps, but neither of them pay him mind as they drag him out of the room.

Garrett watches them, breathing still heavy.

“I’m calling campus police.” he says, taking out his own phone.

Logan guides you to sit on the edge of Garrett’s bed, kneeling in front of you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he says softly. The familiar timbre of his voice calms you down a bit, but not enough for you to catch your breath.

“Can I touch you?” he asks with full sincerity.

You shake your head no.

He nods and he respects that decision fully.

“Okay, focus on my voice right now.” He continues.

“You’re safe. Take a deep breath.” he says, taking one himself.

“In… and out.”

You shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I can’t-”

“Yes you can.” he affirms. “You can do it, I know you can.”

“C’mon, breathe in with me.”

You take a shaky gasp of air, following his counts until your lungs finally begin working properly on their own.

It takes a few more moments before your breathing starts to settle.

Hannah returns with your stuff and a glass of water.

Logan holds the glass for you, your hands still shaking from the adrenaline comedown. You take small, desperate sips, your heart rate finally returning to normal.

The room is quiet.

There’s faint music coming from the ongoing party downstairs, but no one is focusing on that.

You’re staring at the floor near your feet as Garrett hangs up his phone call.

“Excuse me for a second. I’m going to deal with James” he says, slipping out of the room with quietly controlled anger.

A few seconds later, you hear his voice outside the room.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Hannah asks softly.

You shake your head no, and a sigh of relief exits both of them.

Then Garrett’s voice raises outside the door, and Hannah stands up. “I should go check what’s going on.” she says.

She gives you one last look before leaving.

It’s just you and Logan now. For a minute, neither of you says anything.

He reaches for your hand, but stops at the last second.

You notice. And you reach for his hand instead.

He rubs his thumbs over your knuckles, warming your hands up as he looks up at you.

“It’s all going to be okay.” he murmurs.

You nod.

“That was so fucking scary…” he says quietly.

Your brows furrow slightly.

“If anything bad had happened to you…” he pauses.

His jaw tightens as he struggles to get the words out.

“I don’t know what I’d have done.” A beat passes. “I’d never have forgiven myself.”

“It’s not your fault, Logan.” You whisper.

“I know it isn’t.” he says, though he sounds unconvinced.

“I just…” he looks down at your joined hands. “I’m pissed at myself for not realizing what was going on sooner.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself for that.” you say, squeezing his hand gently.  “You can’t be expected to focus on me the entire party.”

He just looks at you for a long moment.

“...But I was.” he confesses quietly.

Those three words steal the air from your lungs, but in a good way this time. This is the closest you guys have ever come to acknowledging… whatever it is going on between you.

“This entire party… I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” he continues.

“Logan…” you whisper.

“Hear me out first.” he says, standing up.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the empty place next to you on the bed. When you nod, he sits down, his hand still holding yours.

“Another reason I was so scared…” he swallows.

“Is because I couldn’t stand anything happening to you.” his voice gets quieter as he explains.

“I know Garrett’s your brother, and Hannah is your best friend, but as we raced up the stairs… ” he looks down.

“I realized the complex web of feelings I had and… I couldn’t justify what I was feeling as just being worried about a friend.” he says, voice hoarse.

Your heart beats faster.

“Somewhere between the living room and Garrett’s bedroom, I realized that you’re more to me than just a friend.”

A pause.

“And I realized that I wanted to have a position to feel more than that.”

You stare at him.

“Garrett automatically gets the role of your protector because he’s your brother. Hannah gets to be the person you turn to first because she’s your best friend.” his hands tighten around yours. “And I’m just… Logan.” he says with a small smile.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way.” he quickly adds. “I love being your friend, I really do.”

He takes a breath.

“But tonight, when there was a chance of something happening to you, I realized I didn’t just want to be someone who stood by you. I want to be someone you actually need.”

“Logan…”

“I want to matter to you the way you matter to me.”

“You do matter to me, John.” you admit.

His eyes flick up to yours.

“Not just because you’re my friend who does my homework for me.” you say, laughing. “But because, over the past few years, you’ve somehow wormed your way into my heart.”

“And if I ever lost you, well… there’d be a huge Logan shaped hole I wouldn’t know how to fill.”

You squeeze his hand again.

“You’ve been there for me for years. You make me laugh when you know I need it, and you know me better than almost anyone- hell, maybe even more than my brother.” you admit. “I don’t know when it happened, Logan, but somewhere along the way, you became someone I couldn’t imagine not having in my life.

He lets out a quiet breath.

“While these aren’t ideal circumstances, you don’t know how much I’ve been dreaming about this moment.” he says with a grin.

The room falls quiet again, but not quiet in a heavy way. Quiet in this calm, peaceful way that succeeds emotionally vulnerable conversations.

You shift closer, resting your head against his shoulder. Logan stills under you. When you don’t shift, though, he takes a breath and relaxes, his hands still wrapped around yours as his thumb rubs circles into your wrist.

Downstairs, the party continues. Somewhere outside, James is definitely regretting the moment he entered this party. Hannah was probably on a grocery run getting your comfort foods for you.

The past three months have been the happiest of your life.

It’s an embarrassing thought. Not because it isn’t true, or because of some stupid reason, but because 3 months is too little time to fall head over heels for John Logan. It’s too soon to get this attached, too soon to be smiling every time you see a notification from him on your phone, too soon to be unconsciously making space for him in your future plans.

And yet, every small thing reminds you of him. You smile when you see his favourite cologne on the shelves of a shop. You laugh as you make toast in the morning, remembering that one time he tried (and miserably failed) to make you breakfast in bed. You send him reels on instagram with the message “saw this and thought of u”.

And he makes it so easy.

You don’t have to second guess yourself around him. He listens when you speak, remembers the little things, and never makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable. He always makes sure that you know that being with you is exactly where he wants to be.

So maybe that’s why it hurt more than it should have, that Friday night.

You were at the hockey house for yet another party, not that you minded. This was your zone. The music, the dancing, you were in your element, and you really loved it. You were currently dancing with Allie, having the time of your life. She left to go get more drinks, so you turned around to find your boyfriend. You spotted him sitting on the couch beside a head of blond hair that could only belong to Dean. Grinning to yourself, you crept up behind the couch, planning to scare him, when you caught your name in their conversation.

“So, what’s the deal with you and her?” Dean asked Logan seriously. “I’ve never seen you stick around with one person for so long. Are you guys serious?”

The air stills as you wait for Logan’s answer, still hidden. For a brief second, you smile to yourself. You don’t know why you’re nervous, you already know the answer. You know what you and him are. Atleast, you thought you did.

He laughs.

That sound is sharp enough to drive itself into your chest, sharp enough to stab straight through your heart.

“She’s just a puck bunny, man.” Logan says dismissively. “You know the routine. It’s nothing serious.”

The party suddenly seemed too overwhelming. The blinding lights. The suffocating crowd pressing in from every direction.

You don’t hear what Dean says next. You can’t hear anything, your ears ringing and your head pounding.

Just a puck bunny.

That’s all that you were to him.

Nothing serious.

That’s all the past three months, some of the happiest of your life, were to him.

You feel sick. Your stomach churns, your chest aches, your head reeling and overwhelmed. Your feet are rooted to the spot for one endless moment before you find the smallest shred of strength to turn around and move, rushing to the front door.

You hear someone calling out after you. Allie. She catches up to you outside, concern evident on her face, the drinks abandoned on some nearby table. She says your name so softly, her laced with the utmost concern, and just that’s all it takes for the dam to break.

Your vision blurs as tears spill down your face.

“What happened?” Allie asks gently. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

You shake your head, unable to form coherent words.

“John, he-”, the words catch in your throat as another wave of tears crashes over you.

Allie’s expression hardens. She knows all about you and Logan; it’s not exactly a secret.

“What did he do?” she asks, her voice tight.

“He- he said that I’m just another puck bunny.” You sniff, trying to steady your breath. “We’re not serious, apparently.”

“This is the same John Logan that got you soup last week when you were sick?”, she asks incredulously. “Not serious, my ass.”

At that, the flow of tears starts again. Allie winces as she realises that might not have been the best thing to say.

“Okay” She says even more softly. “Let’s get you home first.”

She guides you down the porch steps and to her car, helping you in first before seating herself in the driver’s seat.

“Luckily I haven’t had much to drink.” she mutters as she puts her keys in the ignition.

An idea pops up into your brain, and you act on it before doubt can creep in. With shaky hands, you pull out your phone from your pocket and unlock it. Your thumb hovers over the screen before you open your chat with Logan. The empty text box stares at you. You look at the last message he sent in reply to a mirror selfie of your fit for the party.

You look absolutely gorgeous, love.

You sit there for a few seconds before you begin typing. Then delete. You write another word, before scrapping that as well.

Eventually, you settle on a small, concise message. Simple. Nothing overly emotional, but it says everything that needs to be said.

Hey. I think we’re both looking for different things, and maybe it’s not the best idea to continue… whatever this is. It was fun while it lasted. Goodbye, Logan.

You read it over once. Twice. And then press send before you second guess yourself.

For a long moment, you do nothing but look at the small ‘delivered’ under your text. You lock your phone and let it fall onto your lap.

You see Allie glancing at you from the driver’s seat. To her credit, she waits a minute before your tears have calmed down and your breathing is steady before asking you questions.

“You wanna tell me exactly what happened?” she asks quietly.

Your chest tightened for a second before you spoke.

“I heard him talking to Dean.” You say quietly, throat hurting with every word you push out. “He said that I’m just a puck bunny with whom he has nothing serious going on.”

There’s silence for a minute in the car before Allie curses under her breath.

Logan feels his phone buzz with a notification from you. For a split second, warmth blooms in his chest. He opens the message and the warmth disappears.

It feels like a bucket of ice cold water has been poured over him.

His heart starts racing, and panic fills every inch of his being as he reads the message again.

“No…” he whispers, more to himself, but Dean hears.

He turns to Logan in concern, a frown replacing that easy going smile for the first time that night.

“All good, man?” he asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Logan tries to say something but the words catch in his throat.

“She-” he tries again, voice cracking. “She broke up with me.”

Silence hangs between them for a second before Dean speaks up, clearly confused.

“Who?” he asks, brows furrowed. “The puck bunny? Didn’t you just say that you guys were like, a casual fling?”

Logan lets out a hollow laugh that sounds more like a choke.

“No… I mean, yes, I did just say that, but-” Logan stumbles over his words. He runs a hand in his hair before speaking again. “Fuck. I think-”

His everything hurts. His chest hurts so sharply that it hurts even to breathe.

“I have to talk to her.”

He presses the call button in your chat, not surprised when, against all hopes, it goes to voicemail.

He calls again.

Voicemail. Again.

Nothing.

“She’s not answering.” he says, panic rising with every call directed to voicemail. “Fuck, Dean, she’s not answering!”

He shoots a few quick texts to you, all left on delivered.

‘Please pick up, baby.’

‘Let’s talk this through, what happened??’

‘Are you okay?’

“What did I do, sweetheart?’

‘Please tell me’

He frantically looks for you everywhere in the house, pushing through the suffocating crowds of people as Dean follows. He checks the kitchen, the backyard, the bathrooms, and his room upstairs. You’re nowhere to be found, and nor is Allie. He goes out onto the road outside and notices that Allie’s car is gone, which confirms that you both have left.

“She’s gone.” he says to Dean, swallowing painfully. “She’s not here, nor is your girlfriend. Can you call Allie?" Logan pleads him.

As Allie pulls into the parking lot outside your dorm building, your phone starts buzzing. You glance at the screen and huff when you see that the incoming caller is none other than Logan, before silencing your phone and shoving it in your pocket. A few moments later, it buzzes again. And again. You can feel the constant vibrations from more missed calls and texts, but you ignore them as both of you climb out of the car and head up to your room.

The room is dark, only the light of the tv illuminating Hannah and Garrett’s faces. They hadn’t gone to the party because Hannah wasn’t feeling well, and Garrett had stayed behind to take care of her.

The moment you step inside, both of them look up.

You know you aren’t exactly at your best right now. Your eyes are rimmed red and dried tear tracks over your face. It’s clear from one look that something is horribly wrong.

Garrett’s the first one to speak. “What happened?”

You open your mouth, but instead of words coming out, your bottom lip trembles and before you know it, the tears you’ve been trying very hard to keep at bay start falling again.

Hannah is on her feet in an instant.

“Oh, honey…”

She crosses the room and envelopes you in a warm hug. A quiet sob escapes you before you can stop it.

Behind Hannah, Garrett looks at Allie, who’s still standing at the door behind you. His expression becomes more concerned by the second.

“Logan.” Allie says like that explains everything.

You pull away from Hannah, and explain the entire thing for the umpteenth time.

For a moment, the room is silent. Then Garrett speaks.

“He wouldn’t do that…” He says, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of that fact.

“Well, he did.” You say, voice stoic. “And I ended things with him. He’s been blowing up my phone ever since.”

As if on queue, you feel your phone buzz again repeatedly. It finally stops, before there’s a different buzz.

Allie pulls out her phone. “It’s Dean.” She says.

You groan as you slug your feet to the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water. Your throat feels painfully dry from all the crying. Behind you, you hear Allie answer the call.

“What, Dean?”

A pause.

“No, Dean!”

Another pause.

“Well, I don’t care if he wants to talk to her!”

You fill a glass with water and take a long drink, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

“Well, maybe Logan should’ve thought about that before he opened that big mouth of his!”

When you walk back into the living room, Hannah’s already waiting ready for you with a huge, fluffy blanket, and Garrett ordering your favourite ice cream.

You sit down and stare blankly at the wall as Allie continues yelling.

“No, I’m not putting her on the line! She clearly doesn’t want to talk to him right now!”

She suddenly scoffs

“What do you mean he doesn’t know what he did? He’s- is that him in the background?” Her voice rises by an octave. “Give him the phone, I wanna give him a piece of my mind!”

You hear muffled voices on the other side before Dean apparently gives in.

Meanwhile, Hannah is making sure you’re comfortable on the couch, before sending Garrett to the kitchen to get ‘supplies’.

“You’re devastated? Why?” Allie asks the phone. “The thing between you and her isn’t anything serious, is it?”

She waits for a reply from Logan, who is now speechless. He realised what this entire thing is about.

Another muffled sentence before she continues, exasperated.

“No, I’m not going to give her the phone!”

You grip your glass a little tighter.

“I’m not going to make her talk to you.” Allie continues. “She decides whether she wants to talk to you or not, and currently, her answer is…” she trails off with a questioning look to you.

“No.” You speak without hesitation.

She nods before lifting the phone back to her ear. “You heard her.”

It was a rough week going forward for you. Of course you had your entire support system around you, Hannah and Allie skipping class with you to watch chick flicks, eating buckets of ice cream and other junk food that they sent their boyfriends to get, and completely inhaling your favourite pasta that Tucker made for you.

“Logan’s an idiot. Hope you feel better soon.” the note on the box said.

You let out a wet chuckle at that and ate.

These weren’t the only packages you received at your door, though.

The night of the breakup, Logan wanted to come to your dorm until Dean helped him realize that not respecting your boundaries won’t win him any points. Day 1 post breakup, he sent your favourite coffee along with Dean. Day 2, texts Garrett to get an oil change for your car, simply because you’d complained about the warning light a while back. He also constantly badgered everyone asking if you’re okay, and also continued texting you.

Sometimes it was an apology, sometimes he was wishing her luck on the day she has an important submission. But he never stepped over the boundaries, he always respected them.

You got updates about him as well.

Garrett told you how he was playing like shit on the ice, how he’s always moping around their house like a sad dog. That his eyes are filled with anguish whenever he sees any of them leaving for your house.

You finally meet him in person on the Wednesday after your breakup. You’re walking towards your physics class when you spot him through the park you usually cut through. Your heart softens a bit. Of course he remembers this route, even though you mentioned it off-handedly only once.

You didn’t even expect him to remember. But of course he did, and that’s a problem. It’s a problem because you wanted to jump into his arms right now. You want to melt into his warm embrace and forget anything bad ever happened.

But you don’t. Instead, you stop six feet short of him.

“Well?” you ask him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m on my way to class, do you need anything?” you ask him coolly.

Logan swallows, his eyes flickering over your face before he speaks.

“Uh…” he looks down at his feet for a second before completing his question. “Can I carry your bag?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s not an apology you don’t want, or him trying to get you to listen to what he has to say.

His voice is as deliciously smooth as you remember, and that sincere look in his eyes makes you really want to forgive him. But, baby steps.

“Sure.” you slip your bag off your shoulder and hand it to him. His fingers brush yours for the briefest moment, and you hate how familiar and comfortable that feels.

Without a word, you march forward to your class, hearing his footfalls a second later as he falls into step behind you.

For a few minutes, neither of you says anything. The silence isn’t as uncomfortable as it is… unusual. Normally, your walks with him were filled with jokes, laughter, or just the comfort of each other’s presence.

Now every quiet moment feels like something fragile.

“I, uh…” Logan interrupts the silence. You turn your head to look at him, and he looks like he wants to say 10 different things at once.

“I bet you’re wondering why I haven’t apologized yet?” he asks with a small, nervous smile.

You just give a small nod in reply.

“Well, I figured, an apology just won’t cut it.” He explains. “If I did what I wanted right now, I'd just beg for you to hear me out and take me back. Which would probably not be the best for me..." he scratches the back of his head. "I'd beg you to let me make amends, and let me show you exactly how much you mean to me.”

He looks at you before talking again.

“I have a million different things to say, but I know that’s not what you want to hear right now.” he continues again. “I will say this though…”

He waits for you to stop him, and when you don’t, he resumes talking.

“I was an ass. When Dean asked what we were… I- I said we weren’t anything serious. It’s not because I believed that we were casual, but- but because I was afraid confirming it would make it real.”

You give him a look over your shoulder, and he realizes his mistake, because he quickly backtracks.

“No, it already was real-  It was real to me the second something good happened to me, and you were the first person I wanted to tell. It was real to me when I was sick, and you were the only person I wanted to talk to.”

You look behind again, but he looks straight ahead, not meeting your eyes, and continues speaking.

“It’s just- things were good between us. Really good. Honestly, it felt like a dream I’d wake up from soon.” He lets out a shaky breath. “But, if I admitted it out loud, actually said those words to another person… there was no pretending that I wasn’t all in anymore.”

He laughs bitterly. “And that scared the hell out of me. If something happened after that, if I screwed things up, or we fell apart…” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “I couldn’t tell myself that I didn’t care. It would hurt more. All my life, in all situations, I’ve always kept one foot out the door. Telling myself ‘its casual, its temporary, don’t get attached’.”

A humourless smile tugged at his lips. “And when I met you, you… you were like this light, and you were one of the happiest things in my life. Something I convinced myself I don’t deserve. I felt like I was soaring high, and that I was bound to fall at some point.”

As you reach the building of your physics class, he finished his little monologue.

“I realized that, if something went wrong between us, it would hurt more… because I wouldn’t just be losing something that makes me happy, but… someone I love.”

Your eyes widen a bit at that, and he lets out a small chuckle as he gives you back your bag, and points to your class.

“You should probably get going.”

Before you could process your shock to get any words out, he turned around and walked away, leaving you rooted to that spot outside the door, people rushing in for class as you stared at his retreating figure.

The next day was Thursday. When you got home from your last lecture, you saw Hannah, Allie, Dean, and Garrett sprawled in your living room. You smile. Over the past few days, you’ve gotten used to this. Coming home to your friends waiting for you, making sure you’re not alone.

As you dropped your keys on the side table, a cardboard box caught your eye. Your name was written on top. You peeled off the tape and opened up the box to see your polar bear plushie. Puck. (Guess who named it that)

Your chest tightened. You’d completely forgotten that you’d left him at the hockey house.

A small smile graced your lips as you walked fully into the living room with Puck in your hands.

Dean noticed first. “Now where’d you get that from?”

Everyone’s attention diverted to Puck.

Hannah blinked. “Didn’t Logan win that for you at the carnival last month?”

“Yes.” You admitted, trying to sound indifferent.

“Oh my god, I remember that!” Garrett lets out an incredulous laugh. “That basketball game was rigged, and everyone knew that. But Logan saw you staring at that stupid bear and… just kept playing.”

“He lost for what, an hour?” Dean snorted.

“At least.” Garrett agreed. “The stall attendant eventually got so fed up of Logan’s miserable playing that he gave him the bear just to get rid of him.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “That was a good day.”

Dean suddenly sat up straighter.

“No, you know what’s worse? Remember when you thought you’d failed that math test, so he skipped practice just to sit and watch trash tv with you?”

“It wasn’t that bad.” you mutter under your breath.

“It was 5 hours straight of love island.” Dean deadpanned.

Allie laughed before speaking. “No, his most down bad moment was when she mentioned she’d never been stargazing.”

You think back to that moment. “Right! He drove me like, two hours out of the city at midnight just because the forecast said that the stars would be more visible there.”

Allie’s eyes widened. “Two hours??”

Everyone looked deep in thought before Hannah spoke.

“My favourite was when you convinced yourself you lost your grandma’s necklace. You were hysterical.”

“And then”, Garrett grins. “After dragging the poor guy to three different places, you found it in your nightstand drawer.”

“And he didn’t even get pissed that you wasted his time”, Allie chimes in. “He was just relieved that you found it.”

You looked down at Puck, absent mindedly tracing his stitched smile with your thumb. You’d spent the past week replaying his words in your head, but now that these memories were going through your brain… you couldn’t stop remembering his actions instead.

Friday. game day. You’d opted not to go, but somehow managed to convince your friends that they should still go and support their boyfriends.

So instead, you were draped across your bed, doomscrolling through tiktok when your phone suddenly rang. The caller ID read ‘HanHan’. You frowned, glancing at the time. The game had barely started 10 minutes ago.

You answered immediately. “Everything alright, Han?” you ask her.

The roar of the crowd nearly drowned her out, but you still heard her practically shriek your name. “You have got to come here!”

Your stomach dropped. “What happened?”

 Its nothing bad, just… come quickly!” she urged.

Confused, you slip on your shoes, grab your purse, and head to the rink. Walking in, you see a few people outside give you knowing looks. Your brows knitted together. ‘What the hell?’, you thought.

The moment you enter, your eyes instinctively look for number 22 on the ice. You find him immediately, then freeze. Something wasn’t right.

Your gaze drifted upwards. Realization makes you freeze at the top of the steps. Instead of the usual ‘Logan’ stamped across the jersey above his number… it was your last name.

Your breath caught.

The noise of the arena faded to the background.

Just last week, he was scared to call you his girlfriend in front of dean. He was scared to admit that the relationship was real. And now… he was skating in front of his teammates, coaches, the entire university, hell, even live tv, with your name on his back.

And just like that, the last bit of anger that was stuck in your chest slowly began to fade away.

You find Allie and Hannah, both of them grinning ear to ear as they move to create space for you to sit. Neither of them say a word. They don’t need to.

You don’t take your eyes off of Logan. A couple minutes later, he slams the puck into the net.

The stadium cheers like crazy.

Logan’s eyes flit across the stands with a lazy grin, doing a double take when he sees you.

He smirks, and, while raising his leg, he extends one arm forward while simultaneously drawing the other back, snapping his fingers like he’s releasing an arrow in your direction.

Your cheeks heat up, and you can’t help but laugh as he skates around before joining the game again. “Idiot”, you mutter to yourself with a grin.

After the game ends, you linger near the tunnel, waiting for Logan to come out. Dean exits first, whistling as he makes a beeline for Allie. Tucker followed, offering you a knowing look before he heads to Sabrina and Jamie. Then Garrett emerged. He caught your eyes, winked, and continued walking forward towards Hannah before you see Logan near the exit. You move to head towards him before some other guy in a suit strikes up a conversation.

You wait patiently by the side, surprised when Logan gestures towards you, saying “I hate to cut this conversation in half, but I have someone waiting for me.”

The guy in the suit looks at you, nodding. “And this is?”

You look at Logan, thinking this may become awkward. But he doesn't falter.

“She was my girlfriend.” His voice is steady. “I was lucky to have her. Then I fucked up, and now…” He looks at you.

“And now his girlfriend again.” you finish smoothly.

Logan’s eyes widened. The guy laughs, claps him on the back, and gives him a congratulations before excusing himself.

“Girlfriend again?” he asks, his voice breathy around the edges.

“Well, if you don’t want to, I suppose-” you start, but get cut off.

“No, of course I want to.” He answered so quickly you almost laughed. “It’s just… I thought I was going to have to spend the next few months begging for you back.”

Your eyes narrow and you raise a finger. “Don’t think this lets you off the hook. I am still very pissed at you, but… I miss you. So I’m going to give you another shot.”

“Another shot?” Logan smiles like Christmas came early.

“One.” you repeat. “Not because you put my name on your jersey. Not because you told me you love me…”

Your voice softens at the end.

“But because my problem was the fact that you were hiding. You couldn’t admit, even to your best friend, that you were in a committed relationship with me. But now…” you trace your fingers across the back of his jersey. “I don’t think that problem really exists anymore, do you?”

Logan lets out a sigh of relief. You shake your head, smiling again.

“Logan. If we’re doing this again…”

His face immediately sobers.

“Talk to me. No keeping one foot out of the door. I need to know what’s going on in your head, okay?”

He nods quickly. “Yes ma’am”

You study his face for a second before you reach for his hand. “Now, are you going to ask me properly?” you tease him.

His head snapped up. He took a slow breath, ran his hand through his hair, and asked.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You pretended to hesitate for a moment.

Logan groaned. “Don’t do this to me!”

“Well, I don’t know, I’m actually not looking for anything serious right now…” you bite your lower lip, acting all innocent and sincere.

With a pained expression on his face, he speaks quickly. “Honey, please. If you tell me to get on my knees right now, I will. I’m ready to prove that I’m 100% committed to you. I-”

“John…” you interrupt him softly. “Shut up and kiss me.” With a relieved grin, he leans down and his lips hover near yours, unsure, before you surge up and meet him halfway.

You hear Allie’s excited cheer from somewhere to your side, while Dean whistles again, really loudly this time.

Laughing, you pull away and look at your group of friends, feeling Logan’s gaze burning a hole through the side of your face.

You look back at him, fisting your hand in his jersey and pulling him down so you can whisper in his ear.

“Now, why don’t you take me back home… and maybe keep the jersey on for a bit longer?” you murmur. “I really like seeing my name on you.”

You let out a squeal as Logan picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you out of the stadium.

“You’re not taking this off tonight.”, you say with a suggestive tone, making Logan nearly stumble.

His voice drops an octave. “Well, that wasn’t the plan.”

“Too bad.” you tell him. “You have a new plan now.”

He laughs, his arms tightening around you as he heads towards his jeep.

"We should break up."

Four words.

Somehow, for some reason, this day has been handing you an unpleasant share of four word phrases today.

A disbelieving laugh escaped you.

"Garrett, come on, it's nine in the morning", You push yourself upright from where you were sprawled on his bed, the air feeling cold despite the warm November sunrays entering the room.

He didn't move from his place leaning against the doorframe, looking unfairly hot.

"It's what's best", he says steadily.

You broke the momentary silence as you scoffed, "Best for who?", you ask. "Because it's definitely not what's best for me."

"Don't make this any harder than it already is", he sighs.

You scramble up from the bed and reach him in a few quick strides.

Garrett took a step back. It was like a wall slammed up- one you haven't seen in almost a year.

"Garrett, no." You stand in front of him, frustration seeping into your tone. "You're in your head again. I told you to wait for me so we can have breakfast together!"

He looks away, his jaw clenched so tightly you briefly wonder how it's not hurting. Or maybe it is.

"Leave."

You'd never heard his voice this small before, and maybe that's the only reason you picked up your stuff and left the house without uttering a single word.

The front door clicked shut behind you with a sound that had forever engrained itself into your brain. You stood on his porch for a long time, fingers tightening around the straps of your bag. You were waiting.

The silence stretched on, and eventually you forced yourself to sit in your car and drive to your dorm.

He never came after you.

Three. Weeks.

Three weeks without your daily good morning text.

Three weeks since he ended things.

Three weeks since you texted Garrett that he didn't get to choose what you did and didn't deserve, and that you had already made your decision- fuck that better bullshit, you had already made your decision and it's him.

Three weeks since you constantly checked your phone for a reply you're never going to get.

And, three weeks since you started jotting down all your thoughts in the notebook with a cute hockey cover he gifted you, which you mainly used for lyrics for your band.

Flipping through the pages of that very book, you're lost in a trance of thoughts when you hear your bandmate call out your name.

"We'll go with our usual setlist, since that's always so popular", you hear Sarah's gentle voice break through your haze.

You blink rapidly as you come back to reality.

Sarah turns, packing up her guitar as band practice came to an end.

You take a deep breath as you voice a thought.

"Actually…", you begin hesitantly.

"Can we add something to that?"

Sarah paused halfway through zipping up her guitar case.

"You wrote something?", she questioned.

You nodded, suddenly unsure with everyone's curious gazes on you.

"Can we just... try it once?", you asked as you sat down on a stool and started. By the time the final chord faded, the room went more quiet than before.

Vanessa, the drummer, had a small but certain smile on her face as she declared, "We're definitely playing it."

Malone's was especially crowded as you set up your mic at the front of the stage. Everything else was already set up, your band prepared to crush it.

Halfway through your set, you hear a familiar cheer- your best friend and dormmate, Allie's. Smiling instinctively at her, your eyes find her in the crowd, and your heart stops as they make eye contact with Garrett, who looks as devastated as you feel.

His hair is a disheveled mess, dark circles sit beneath his eyes, and an old hoodie tells you he didn't put any effort into getting ready. His eyes are fixed on yours, a pained look on his face reflecting the regret- as well as finality- you see in them.

You feel another gaze on you from behind and turn back to see Sarah asking you a question with her eyes. 'Are you ready?', she seemed to ask.

"If I wait until I'm ready", you start with determination. "I'll be waiting for the rest of my life."

Sarah gives you one last questioning look, before you give her a nod that says, 'I know what I'm doing.'

And with those words, you took confident steps to the front of the stage, the slight tremor in your legs betraying how you really felt.

"Hey guys", you speak into the mic. "We're taking a little detour from our usual setlist today."

Looking to the crowd for a reaction, you continue with a smile when everybody cheers.

"This is a song I wrote over the past couple of weeks." Swallowing, you pick up an acoustic guitar from a stand and start strumming. "This song is dedicated to… someone very special to me, and I hope singing it here is finally enough to get it through his thick head."

A small laugh escaped you before you open your mouth and start singing.

The words flow through your blood, through your soul, and leave your lips dripping with feelings and emotions.

"But I can't help but imagine what you say when you speak with me…"

Your eyes flit up to Garrett's, a surge of courage flowing through you before you begin the chorus.

"You're a spark in the dark, and my clothes all caught aflame."

You see his eyes transfixed on you as you sing on the stage, not even pretending to pay attention to what Dean is saying in Garrett's ear. Dean, on the other hand, had an impressed look in his eyes while Allie sits next to him, pride flickering through hers.

"You should feel how I feel when somebody says your name"

You sing the words with as much feeling as you can, hoping they're enough to convey that he is all that you want.

"I'm a car speeding down the boulevard without a break"

Your voice climbs incredibly high before lowering again, never breaking eye contact with the man you love.

"And I want you more than any stupid song could ever say!"

Your voice cracks with the raw emotion flowing through every word.

You glance at the crowd, grateful to see everyone jumping along and enjoying the song your heart has been pouring into.

"I'm a heart made of wax, and I'm melting in the sun"

Your voice softens with vulnerability, unguarded in front of all these people.

"I'm a thread on your shirt that is coming undone"

A small shakey smile graces your face as you sing, uncaring that you're literally unraveling in front of people you barely know.

"I feel right, I feel wrong, I feel totally insane"

Your chuckle catches at the end of that line, breathless and nervous, because this has got to be one of the boldest things you've ever done.

"And I want you more than any stupid song could ever say…"

You catch and hold his gaze through the final line, letting this song say what you haven't been given the opportunity to these past weeks, hoping he'll finally understand that it's him that you want.

You and Garrett had been dating for a full year when you accomponied him to his childhood home for thanksgiving- a trip that unraveled into absolute disaster.

"Well…", you said quietly as you pulled into the driveway of the off-campus house he shared with his friends. "That didn't go well."

Silence.

You turned to look at him, expecting an angry comment, a frustrated rant, or even brooding silence, but nothing could prepare you for what you saw.

Tears rolled quietly down Garrett's cheeks.

Heart breaking in half when you notice the tears rolling down his cheeks, you take you keys out of the car and turn in your seat to face him.

"Garrett", you whisper. "Talk to me, please"

His hands opened and closed in his lap, fists clenching so tightly his knuckles were white, before relaxing again.

When he finally looks at you, really looks at you, the warmth that usually filled his hazel eyes was gone.

His mouth opens. Then closes, before he opens it again and struggles to get the words out.

"I couldn't…", The words die in his throat.

"It's okay. You're okay", you murmured, rubbing slow circles over his back.

"I couldn't protect her"

The confession was so quiet you almost missed it.

"My mom, she-", he struggles to take a breath before he continues, his voice cracking. "I tried, but… I couldn't fight back."

Something physically breaks in you when you hear him say those words. Without thinking, you pull him into a hug right there over the center console.

The dam finally broke. Garrett buried his face in your shoulder and sobbed. His entire body shook, guilt and frustration and a thousand other emotions pouring out of him all at once. You

didn't care that your sweater was getting ruined. You only cared about Garrett. Garrett, and making sure he knows he's not at fault.

"You were just a child", You whisper into his ear as you gently scratch your fingers through his dark curls in the way you know he loves. "There was nothing you could have done against Phil."

You place a kiss against his temple as he continues sobbing into you, letting out years of bottled up feelings.

"You're safe now", you continued softly. "You did all that you could, and I'm so proud of you baby."

Several minutes pass before you feel his breathing steady.

He pulls back, wiping his tears with the back of his hands.

He says your name in such a broken way, you know that whatver he's going to say next is going to hurt more.

"I'm like him", he says softly, looking up to meet your eyes with a resigned look.

Your brows furrow. "No you're not", you say with certainty.

A humourless laugh escapes him. "All the articles, interviews, they all- all of them call me a mini Phil Graham."

His eyes drop to his hands.

"Garret, you aren't like him", you firmly attest.

He looks at you, fear and frustration tangling in his system and coming out as an angry sentence.

"No, but that's the thing, I am!", his haw clenches. "I'm a Graham through and through! I'm the same angry, violent hockey player that my dad is! It's in my blood."

"Garrett, baby, listen to me." Sighing, you reach for his hand.. "Just because you're a hockey player, does not mean that you're the same violent person your dad is."

"But it does", he snaps. "Ice hockey is one of the most violent sports globally! It's one of the only sports that tolerates this level of violence, that celebrates it. And you know what's the worst part?", he looks at you with an unreadable expression, his voice raising slightly. You choose not to answer.

"I fucking thrive in it.", his voice cracked again around the admission.

"Garrett, no-",

He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

"When I'm on the ice…", his voice is the only thing you can hear in the silent car. "That's the most alive I ever feel."

He's breathing grew uneven, weeks of practices, pressure from his dad, and schoolwork finally taking their toll as his anger subsides into exhaustion.

"I'm never more focused than when I'm playing, and I'm fucking good at that shit." He swallowed. "I shoved a guy from Harvard into the glass last week, and I didn't feel a single ounce of regret", he stares out of the windshield as he says that.

"Garrett…", you can't think of what to say.

"What if that's who I am?" He asks the question you know has been hovering in his head for weeks now.

The question made the air heavier, and you searched his face for any trace of the confident hockey captain everyone saw. You could only see a little boy carrying a weight that was never meant for him.

You cup his cheeks, using your thumbs to brush away any remaining tears.

"Look at me", you instruct him softly.

"You are not your father." You don't let him interrupt as you finish your tiny speech.

"I've seen how you handle yourself around the people you love, Tuck, Dean, Logan, me." You pause to let that sink into his head.

"The fact that you're worried about this shows how much you care about us. The fact that you're terrified that you might hurt us one day… that alone proves to me that you could never be like your father."

Garrett looks away, unconvinced. You brush a curl away form his forehead, placing another soft kiss over there.

"I don't think this is something either of us can solve on an empty stomach, after the whirlwind of a day we've had."

His eyes screw shut as his head tips back against the car seat, clearly not done with this conversation.

"Let's go inside", you say. "We'll get some sleep, eat whatever masterpiece Tucker whips up, and we'll talk about this tomorrow with fresh brains, however long and uncomfortable the conversation is, okay?"

Garrett gives the smallest of nods, which you take as a go ahead to get out of the car and make your way into the house with the extra key Garrett gave you 6 months into the relationship. You manage to drag your boyfriend up to his room, his steps sluggish and exhausted. Not a single word is said as you help him get ready for bed, pulling out the gray sweatshirt you know he loves from his cupboard, which he shrugs on without a second thought.

He falls asleep before his head hits the pillow, arms wrapped around you even in his sleep.

As you're falling asleep, you think about Garrett. This is something you know he's been stressed about for a long time, and it only manifested tonight because of the unsuccessful dinner with his dad and Cindy.

He'd bought it up a few weeks ago as well, after he yelled at you during an argument, freaking out after that.

"You deserve better", he had said, before you told him he was being ridiculous and he was the only one you wanted.

That's the memory that plays in your head as you join Garrett in a restless sleep…

Morning light entered through the windows, warming up the bed as you slowly awoke. Your eyes flutter open as you rolled around in bed, fully expecting to meet a wall of muscle behind you and not the cold sheets you were greeted with.

"Gare?", you blinked the sleep away from your eyes and looked towards the door, where your boyfriend stood, clearly deep in thought, already dressed and showered, his damp curls sticking against his forehead in the way you had become familiar with over the past year. He looked like he hadn't gotten a single ounce of sleep.

"What's the time?", You ask groggily as you look for your phone. "Did you already eat breakfast? I thought Tucker would-"

"We need to talk."

Four words no one in a happy, committed relationship ever wanted to hear. Garrett didn't sound upset. He seemed resigned, like he had accepted the inevitable, and maybe that's what made the unease that you felt develop into a huge pit in your stomach.