#graham!reader

The arena still smelled like cold metal and sharpened blades.

Even after the crowd had thinned and the bright competition lights dimmed to a softer glow, the scent lingered in Y/N’s lungs as she unlaced her skates in the locker room. Her thighs burned from the routine. Her right ankle pulsed with every movement. And somewhere beneath the adrenaline and exhaustion sat the same heavy feeling she’d carried since the moment her blade hit the ice wrong during the quad attempt.

Not enough rotation.

She already knew before the judges flashed the scores.

Third place.

Respectable to everyone else. A failure to Phil Graham.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she shoved her guards onto her skates. Around her, girls laughed and hugged coaches while cameras flashed outside the room. Someone told her she skated beautifully. Another complimented her performance.

Y/N smiled politely through all of it.

Because none of those people mattered.

Not when Phil Graham was waiting outside with disapproval on his face.

Y/n was sitting in the stands and staring at the ice, replaying her performance in her mind and hating herself for the mistake. She could not bring herself to face Phil.

Even if she had an off-campus studio apartment, she still drove home every weekend for practice and sometimes during the week as well. Y/n spent more time with Phil and trainers than anyone else, which meant escaping his wrath was unavoidable.

Ice skating is not an easy sport, she had fallen on the ice several times, bruising her body. Even now as she was better, her body was still covered in bruises, some of which were because of Phil.

She hadn’t dared tell anyone. Of course Garett knew about Phil’s abuse, but as they got older and Phil stopped hitting Garett, he thought the same applied to y/n as well. But y/n wasn’t strong enough to fight her father, so she just stayed silent and decided not to drag Garett into it.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Thought you’d still be hiding in here.”

Garrett leaned against the frame in his dark Briar hockey hoodie, one shoulder carrying that effortless confidence people always noticed first. But Y/N knew him too well. Knew the tightness around his mouth meant he was watching her carefully.

“Hi” she mumbled tiredly.

He snorted. “Come on, stop hiding, let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

A tiny smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Garrett pushed off the doorway and walked over, grabbing one of her skate bags before she could protest.

“You got third at nationals,” he said. “That’s insane.”

“I was supposed to land the quad.”

“You were also supposed to not look half dead afterward.”

“Had too much training the day before, was too tired.”

The sentence had too many things hidden inside. Too much training was a given, but it never exhausted y/n, it was Phil’s hits from yesterday that left her body aching and struggling to comply during the competition.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You spend too much time around figure skaters.”

For a second, things felt normal.

Back before hockey practices and competitions and separate apartments and college schedules stretched the distance between them.

Garrett had always been the shield between her and their father.

Until he left for Briar.

Not intentionally. Life had simply happened. Hockey consumed him. Figure skating consumed her. Calls became texts. Texts became occasional check-ins. Even now that y/n got accepted to Briar and continued her studies there, the distance between those two remained. There was just not enough time in the day, and even if it were, Phil would force y/n to practice more.

And Phil—

Phil got worse when nobody was watching.

“You see Dad?” Garrett asked casually.

The question stiffened her spine instantly.

“Mm.” She shoved a sweatshirt over her bruised shoulders. “He left after scores.”

If Phil was here he would have approached y/n with fury a long time ago. Not encountering him, meant he left and was most likely waiting to unleash his disappointment later, in private.

Garrett frowned but didn’t look concerned. Why would he? Phil always iced them out after losses. Silent treatment was practically tradition in the Graham household.

“He’ll get over it,” Garrett said.

Y/N forced another smile.

Sure.

Eventually.

Outside the arena, freezing wind whipped against her face. Reporters still lingered near the entrance barriers while athletes hauled luggage through slush-covered sidewalks. Garrett tossed her bag into the backseat of his Jeep before climbing in beside her.

“You hungry?”

“Too tired to eat.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

She leaned her head against the cold window. “Maybe.”

“Perfect. Then I’ll stop by Malone’s and get us something.”

Garett went to drop y/n off before heading to get take out. The drive back to her apartment was mostly quiet. Garrett filled the silence with random complaints about his coach and teammates while she listened with half-closed eyes. It felt strangely comforting. Familiar.

Safe.

When they pulled up outside her building, Y/N made a move for the door.

“You go rest,” Garrett ordered. “I’ll get takeout and be right back.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know. That’s why it’s called being nice.”

She rolled her eyes weakly.

“There’s leftover pasta upstairs.”

“Tragic. I’m still getting burgers.”

Y/N laughed softly under her breath as she climbed out.

Inside the apartment, warmth replaced the icy bite of the night air. She dropped her skate bag beside the couch.

Silence flooded the apartment.

Y/N exhaled shakily.

Her body ached now that the adrenaline wore off completely. She moved slowly around the kitchen, setting out plates mostly to keep her hands busy. The apartment lights were dim, casting soft shadows across the counters.

Then—

The front door unlocked.

Her stomach dropped instantly.

Garrett never knocked, but he also never came back that fast.

Slowly, Y/N turned around.

Phil Graham stood in the doorway.

Still in his dark coat from the competition.

Still wearing that expression.

The one that made her feel eight years old again.

Disappointment.

Cold. Sharp. Controlled.

“You embarrassed me tonight.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Dad—”

“A triple?”

His voice stayed dangerously calm as he stepped inside.

“A fucking triple.”

“I lost the landing edge—”

“You played safe.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Every instinct in her body screamed.

Y/N took a careful step backward. “I still placed.”

Phil laughed once under his breath.

“Third.”

The word sounded filthy coming from him.

“You think third matters? You think sponsors care about third? You think coaches remember third?”

Her pulse pounded violently now.

“Dad, please—”

“You got scared.”

“I was injured—”

His hand slammed against the counter beside her hard enough to make her flinch.

“Don’t make excuses.”

Y/N’s breathing shortened.

She knew this version of him.

The dangerous one wasn’t the yelling.

It was the quiet.

“I trained you better than that,” Phil said. “Do you understand how much money I’ve spent on your skating?”

She stared at the floor.

Wrong move.

His fingers caught her jaw instantly, forcing her head upward painfully.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Fear crawled cold beneath her skin.

“I said I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“That’s your problem. Sorry is all you ever are.”

Then he shoved her.

Hard.

Y/N stumbled backward into the edge of the kitchen island, pain exploding through her hip. Before she could recover, Phil grabbed her arm and yanked her upright again.

“You had one job tonight.”

“Dad—stop—”

His grip tightened.

“You’re weak.”

The words hit almost harder than the shove.

Weak.

Too emotional.

Too soft.

Too fragile.

All the things he’d called her since childhood.

Phil’s hand struck her across the face so fast her vision blurred sideways.

The ringing in her ears came first.

Then pain.

Y/N gasped, stumbling into the dining chair.

“Stand up.”

Her body froze instead.

Wrong choice again.

Phil moved toward her—

And the apartment door suddenly opened.

Garrett walked in holding a paper takeout bag and two drinks balanced in one hand.

For one single second, nobody moved.

Garrett looked from Y/N clutching the side of her face—

To Phil towering over her—

To the terror on her expression.

The takeout bag slipped from Garrett’s fingers.

Fries scattered across the floor.

And Garrett froze completely.

Like every buried memory had just ripped itself back open.

Like his body had stopped functioning before his brain could catch up.

The sound of the takeout bag hitting the floor echoed through the apartment, but it felt distant. Muffled. All Garrett could hear was blood rushing violently in his ears as he stared at Y/N.

Her hand pressed against her cheek.

Fear in her eyes.

Phil standing over her.

And suddenly he was back in his house again.

Standing in the kitchen while his father slammed him against cabinets after a bad hockey game.

He was a child, hearing Y/N crying quietly through the bathroom door while she insisted she’d “just fallen during practice.”

He was back in his childhood room, promising himself that once he left for Briar, things would finally stop.

Because Phil didn’t touch him anymore.

Because Garrett got bigger.

Stronger.

Because eventually he learned how to shove back.

But Y/N—

Oh God.

Garrett’s stomach twisted violently.

Phil turned first. His expression barely shifted, like getting caught meant nothing.

“Garrett.”

That calm voice snapped something inside him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Garrett’s voice came out low. Dangerous.

Y/N flinched at the tone automatically.

Garrett noticed immediately.

And that hurt almost worse.

Phil straightened slowly. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Garrett laughed once. Sharp and disbelieving.

“You hit her.”

“She needs discipline.”

Before the last word fully left his mouth, Garrett crossed the room.

Fast.

He shoved Phil backward hard enough that the older man stumbled into the counter.

“Don’t touch her,” Garrett snapped.

Phil’s face darkened instantly. “Watch your fucking tone.”

“No,” Garrett barked. “You watch yours.”

Y/N’s pulse thundered painfully as both men squared up in the middle of her kitchen.

For a terrifying second, they looked identical.

Same broad shoulders.

Same furious eyes.

Except Garrett looked horrified beneath the anger.

Phil recovered quickly, sneering. “She blew the competition.”

“She got third in nationals!”

“She failed.”

Garrett looked like he might actually swing at him.

Y/N pushed herself upright immediately despite the sharp ache in her ribs. “Garrett.”

He ignored her.

“All this time you’ve been acting like some proud fucking parent while you’re doing this?”

Phil scoffed. “You think you know anything about pressure? About what it takes to make champions?”

“No,” Garrett said coldly. “I know what it takes to make your kids terrified of you.”

Silence cracked through the room.

Phil’s jaw clenched.

Then his eyes slid toward Y/N.

Disgust.

Blame.

Like this was somehow her fault.

“You should’ve kept your mouth shut,” he muttered.

Garrett stepped directly between them.

“Get out.”

Phil laughed quietly. “Or what?”

Garrett took one step closer.

And suddenly it was obvious.

He wasn’t a scared teenager anymore.

Phil saw it too.

Something uncertain flickered across his face for the first time all night.

“Get,” Garrett said again, voice shaking with rage, “the fuck out.”

The silence stretched heavily.

Then Phil grabbed his coat.

“You’re both unbelievable,” he muttered before heading for the door.

The apartment slammed silent the second he left.

Garrett stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen.

Breathing hard.

Still staring at the door like he couldn’t fully process what had just happened.

Y/N slowly lowered herself into one of the dining chairs, pressing an ice pack from the freezer against her ribs with trembling fingers.

Neither of them spoke.

The room felt unbearably quiet now.

Garrett finally turned around.

And the second he really looked at her, the anger on his face cracked apart.

Her cheek was already bruising.

There were fingerprints forming on her wrist.

And she wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Y/N…”

His voice broke slightly.

She swallowed hard.

“I’m okay.”

Garrett actually looked offended by the words.

“No,” he said immediately. “No, don’t do that.”

She stared down at the ice pack.

He dragged both hands through his hair, pacing once through the kitchen before stopping again.

His breathing still sounded uneven.

“How long?” he asked finally.

Y/N’s grip tightened around the ice pack.

Garrett’s eyes searched her face desperately.

“How long has this been happening?”

Silence.

The kind that answered everything before words ever could.

Garrett’s expression slowly changed.

Confusion first.

Then realization.

Then horror.

“No,” he whispered.

Y/N blinked quickly, eyes burning.

“Y/N.”

She stayed quiet.

Garrett stepped closer. “Did he—” His voice failed entirely. He swallowed hard. “Did he keep doing this after I left?”

Still nothing.

And Garrett looked like he was falling apart standing there.

“Please answer me.”

Y/N’s chest tightened painfully.

Because she knew what the truth would do to him.

“I didn’t want you distracted,” she whispered weakly.

Garrett stared at her.

Like he physically couldn’t understand the sentence.

“What?”

“You finally got away from him in a way, not completely but enough to just not worry all the time you know,” she said quietly. “You had hockey and Briar and your team and—”

“So you let him hurt you instead?”

The words came out harsher than he meant them to.

Y/N flinched instantly.

Garrett closed his eyes like he hated himself for it.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, stepping back. “Fuck, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Don’t say that.”

His voice cracked completely this time.

Y/N finally looked at him.

And Garrett looked wrecked.

Actually wrecked.

“I should’ve known,” he whispered.

“You couldn’t have.”

“How?” he snapped suddenly. “How could I not know?”

His eyes darted over her face again like he was trying to replay every interaction from the past few years.

“The bruises…”

“I skate, Garrett.”

“Excuses.”

Garrett turned away sharply, pressing both hands against the back of his neck while breathing unevenly.

“Jesus Christ…”

His voice sounded sick.

“He stopped hitting me and I thought…” Garrett laughed bitterly to himself. “I thought maybe he was done.”

Y/N stayed quiet.

Because what could she even say to that?

Garrett suddenly looked back at her, eyes glassy with anger and guilt.

“All those times you said you were sore after training.”

She looked down.

“All those times you canceled plans.”

Silence.

Garrett’s jaw tightened violently.

“And I just believed you.”

Garrett just stared at her.

Part of him had wanted to believe everything was fine.

Because the alternative was this.

His little sister sitting in front of him bruised and shaking while holding an ice pack against broken trust and probably broken ribs.

Garrett crouched down in front of her suddenly.

Carefully.

Like he thought touching her wrong might break her further.

“Hey.”

Y/N finally met his eyes again.

And Garrett looked devastated.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology sounded torn out of him.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I left you with him.”

“You had to go to Briar.”

The tears Y/N had been holding back finally burned over.

Garrett noticed instantly.

“Oh, y/n,” he said softly before he could stop himself.

That did it.

Y/N broke.

Just silent tears sliding down her face as years of fear and exhaustion finally cracked open.

And Garrett…. Garrett looked like watching her cry was killing him.

The music was already loud before Y/N even made it up the front steps.

It blasted through the walls hard enough to shake the windows while bodies crowded the porch, half the campus apparently determined to celebrate Briar’s hockey team latest win like they’d personally scored the goals themselves.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and glanced back at the three girls behind her. “This,” she said dryly, “is exactly how people get diseases.”

Her friend Chloe laughed. “Oh my God, stop acting like you’re above this. Your brother literally lives here.”

“Exactly,” Y/N replied. “I know what kind of diseases exist inside this house.”

Another girl, she didn’t even know beside her nudged Y/N’s shoulder excitedly. “Still can’t believe your brother’s Garrett Grant.”

“Graham,” Y/N corrected automatically.

“Whatever. The point is your family tree is carrying our social lives.” Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a little as she pushed the front door open.

Instant chaos. Bodies everywhere. Beer spilled on the floor already. Music too loud. People shouting over beer pong in the dinner table.

Home, basically.

“Baby G!”

Dean appeared first from the living room already drunker than he should. “There she is,” he announced dramatically. “My favorite Graham.”

“You say that every time just to piss Garrett off.”

“But I mean it every time.” he winked at her.

Dean immediately threw an arm around her shoulders and started pulling her through the crowd while her friends looked one second away from passing out from excitement.

Y/N heard one of them whisper: “Oh my God, that’s Dean Di Laurentis.”

She rolled her eyes. Poor girl.

“They are all freshman, Dean,” Y/N warned. “Behave.”

“I’m always behaving.”

The kitchen erupted into cheers suddenly as several hockey players stumbled in carrying cases of beer. And right in the middle of them. Logan.

Hoodie sleeves shoved up his forearms, curls messy under a backwards cap, and that lazy, effortless kind of confidence that made it seem like he belonged everywhere he stood. The warm glow from the kitchen lights softened the sharp edges of his face while he laughed at something one of the upperclassmen said, easy and unguarded for once.

Unfortunately for Y/N’s sanity, Logan always looked unfairly good without even trying.

Y/N’s friend beside her went completely silent. Then: “…holy shit.” one of them said.

Y/N snorted. Because ‘Yeah… holy shit.’ She thought

That was usually people’s reaction to Logan.

He looked up a second later, eyes scanning the room automatically before landing on her. And immediately smiled, walking towards them.

“Well, well,” he called over the music. “Graham brought friends.” His mouth curved into a smirk. He wasn’t interested in the girls at all, he just knew the comment would earn him an reaction from her, and for some reason, he never got tired of them. Like a boy annoying his crush on school because he doesn’t know how get her to notice him.

Y/N flipped him off instantly. “They’re innocent freshmen. Leave them alone.”

“I don’t want to be left alone,” one of her friends whispered weakly.

Dean and Logan chuckled. And Y/N rolled her eyes, but her gaze drifted back to Logan anyway. He looked different tonight.

Not physically, though the messy dark hair, flushed cheeks, and post-game confidence weren't helping.

No, it was something else.

Confidence was natural to Logan, but tonight it seemed different somehow. Brighter. Real. Not made up. Like he was carrying the energy of the entire arena with him.

Which, to be fair, he practically was. He'd scored a hat trick. The crowd had spent half the game chanting his name. The team had won because of him.

The worst part? He wore real confidence disgustingly well.

Y/N liked to think she knew better than most that Logan hid behind a smile. Behind the flirting, the confidence, the constant jokes, and sarcasm there was always something he kept carefully out of reach. A part of himself he rarely let anyone see.

But hockey? Hockey was different.

Hockey was the one place where nothing about him was rehearsed. There was no mask and not a carefully crafted version of John Logan. Just him. It was obvious in the way he moved on the ice. In the way his entire face lit up after a goal, a assist. In the pure, almost boyish excitement he could never quite hide after a win.

Whatever insecurities he carried, whatever demons he kept locked behind that easy smile, they disappeared the second he stepped onto the rink.

And maybe that was why Y/N enjoyed watching him play so much. Because for a few hours, she got to see the real version of him. The one who wasn't pretending to be anything at all.

As if sensing her staring, he glanced over.

"Careful, Graham," he said, pointing lazily at her with someone else's beer. "Keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna start thinking you're impressed."

Y/N snorted.

"It’s easier for me to walk barefoot through this kitchen.” she said sarcastically “You scored three goals and somehow became even more arrogant."

Logan grinned. Actually grinned. Like he'd been waiting for her to bring it up. And suddenly he looked pleased. Not because of the game. Because she'd noticed.

"So... you saw that?" He said, trying and failing to sound casual. The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Y/N stared at him and blinked.

"Logan."

"What?"

"My brother was playing."

Logan immediately regretted it. His smile melted instantly.

Of course she saw it. Her brother was the fucking captain of the team. Why the hell had he gotten excited in the first place? She watches practically every game. Like she'd been sitting in those stands watching him.

Idiot.

The stupid little spark in his chest fizzled out instantly. There it is, reality. He should've known better.

"Right," he said, taking a sip of his beer. "Yeah sure."

But then Y/N tilted her head slightly.

"and," she added, "you played really well."

Logan looked up surprised.

"What?"

"You did." She shrugged. "Three goals is kind of incredible, Johnny !"

For a second, he just stared at her.

Y/N fought the urge to smile but tried to hold it, keeping the cool girl character. Then break the character and finally smiled, when she saw his face light up again the exact moment the compliment landed.

He play it cool and was able to recover quickly.

"Well," he said, suddenly looking far too pleased with himself, "I am kind of incredible."

Y/N laughed and flipped him "Fuck off. I'm never complimenting you again"

Logan chuckled softly under his breath too. Too softly and naturally. Her friends exchanged looks and Y/N changed the subject.

“Where’s Garrett?” she asked.

“Somewhere upstairs with Hannah”

“Sounds right.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Garrett suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs.

He spotted Y/N instantly. Then spotted the freshmen girls behind her.

“Well,” Y/N sighed. “Speaking of the devil”

Garrett pointed directly at Logan before even reaching the bottom step.

“You.”

Logan blinked innocently. “Me?”

“Don’t try anything” throwing back to the conversation they had days ago in his room.

Y/N laughed innocently.

And Logan… Logan just grinned slowly like Garrett’s threats had become background noise years ago. Before he could say anything to defend himself Y/N spoke.

“Relax, Johnny wasn’t flirting with them…” Y/N said innocently. Then she paused. “…yet.”

Logan looked offended immediately. “That’s slander.”

“That’s experience.”

Dean chuckled somewhere behind them while Garrett looked one second away from developing a stress-induced migraine. Y/N ignored all three of them.

“Anyways,” she continued, turning toward the girls beside her, “come meet my brother since apparently he’s, like, a celebrity or something.”

“Oh my God,” Chloe whispered, panicking instantly.

Garrett groaned. “Y/N—”

Too late. Y/N grabbed his wrist and physically pulled him forward into the circle of freshmen girls despite his resistance.

“This is Garrett Graham,” she announced dramatically, like some kind of sports commentator. “Team captain, future NHL star, and unfortunately for you girls, very much taken, so let’s all be respectful and keep your crushes to yourselves.”

Garrett deadpanned. “I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not.” she held his arm keeping him in place.

Her friends looked fascinated. Which happened a lot around Garrett.

He had that effect naturally. Big presence, sharp stare, the kind of confidence that made people straighten unconsciously when he walked into a room.

Y/N, didn’t see him like that at all. Mostly because she’d spent her entire childhood bullying him.

“Hi,” one girl squeaked nervously.

Garrett softened almost immediately. Not by much, maybe two percent, but for him that was practically warmth. The girls standing behind Y/N didn't look like the kind of people she usually spent time with. If he were being honest, he wasn't even convinced most of them were real friends. They seemed far more interested in the house and the hockey players than in Y/N herself. But he knew that she was trying to branch out beyond the skating world, trying to fit in with normal college girls for once, and Garrett wasn't about to make it harder for her.

So he slipped easily into the role they were all expecting: Briar's captain, friendly, polite, approachable. If making a good impression helped Y/N feel a little more comfortable, then he could play the part for a few minutes. Besides, it was nice seeing her with people outside the rink for a change. "Hey," he said politely.

Y/N looked smug. “See? He’s house trained.”

“Shut up”

Behind them, Logan watched the entire interaction with amusement tugging at his mouth. His eyes stayed on Y/N a second longer than necessary as she laughed again, and as she walked around introducing her friends to different guys on the hockey team, head tipping slightly toward her friends, arguing with Garrett about something stupid.

Most people looked at Y/N and saw confidence. The loud laugh, the quick comebacks, the way she could walk into a room full of strangers and somehow end up talking to all of them within ten minutes. She moved through their house like she lived there, stealing drinks, insulting people affectionately, making herself comfortable wherever she went.

But Logan had always thought there was something a little misleading about that version of her. Not because it wasn't real. Y/N was genuinely funny and talkative and ridiculously easy to like. The thing was, people assumed that meant she was easy to get to know. She wasn't.

Growing up with their dad she had, she'd learned early how to smile through discomfort, how to hide pain behind politeness, how to make difficult things look effortless. Figure skating had only reinforced it. Years of performing had taught her how to stay graceful when she was exhausted, how to make every movement look intentional, how to let people see exactly what she wanted them to see.

It was almost funny, really. For someone who was such a social butterfly, Y/N kept her world surprisingly small. Most friendships drifted in and out of her life without ever getting particularly deep. The people she truly let in could be counted on one hand: Garrett, the boys, Hannah and Allie. That was it. And whenever anyone pointed it out, she'd just shrug and insist she already had everything she needed.

And she meant it.

For them everything with Y/N felt easy. And Logan still hadn’t realized yet that maybe that was his problem. And why it was so hard to push whatever weird thought was going through his head away.

Y/N was halfway through introducing another girl to one of the denfesemen when a girl appeared beside Logan near the couch.

“Congratulations on the game” she said with an already flirty undertone, leaning against the side of the couch beside him.

He ignored her for some seconds. Eyes still clued toward Y/N across the room. She was laughing at something Garrett said, one hand gripping his forearm while he looked deeply unimpressed by her existence.

Then the girl said “So... you’re Johnny?”

That made him finally look back at the girl beside him. He reconized the girl as one of Y/N’s friends. Pretty. Blonde. Smiling at him.

“…don’t call me that.” he said quite rude without even noticing.

She blinked. “What?”

“Johnny.” He took another sip of beer. “Don’t call me that”

The girl laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Sorry. Y/N talks about you guys all the time, so I guess it stuck.”

That made something strange settle low in his chest. Y/N talks about you guys all the time. Not just Garrett. But also not just him. But them.

And really, why wouldn't she talk about them?

Y/N spent so much time at their house that half her college memories probably happened within these walls. Movie nights, team dinners, study sessions, late-night food runs, stupid inside jokes that somehow never died.

Somewhere along the way, she'd stopped being Garrett's little sister who occasionally stopped by and simply become part of the group.

Logan wasn't sure any of them had even noticed when it happened and hadn’t really thought about it. But apparently Y/N had. And apparently it was an important subject for her.

“You don’t like it, huh?” the girl teased lightly.

Logan was lost in his thoughts and realized a second too late she was still talking to him.

“What?”

“The nickname,” she said. “You hate it that much?”

“No,” he answered automatically. Then quieter: “Just sounds weird from other people.”

Because he didn’t hate it. Not really. He complained every time Y/N called him Johnny, but half the time he was just pretending. When she said it, it sounded natural. When someone else did, it felt like they were using something that wasn’t theirs.

Her smile shifted slightly then, like she finally noticed he wasn’t really paying attention to her.

His attention kept drifting back across the room. Y/N had moved closer to Garrett again, still talking animatedly with her hands while her friends listened. Garrett pretended to look annoyed, but Logan knew him well enough to catch the tiny things underneath it.

The way Garrett stayed turned toward her automatically in crowded rooms. The way his eyes tracked her without thinking. The way Y/N leaned into him casually because somewhere deep down she’d never doubted he’d be there.

Protective. Constant. Safe

It made him think.

Maybe because ever since Garrett had finally told them the truth last year, Logan hadn't been able to completely stop wondering about it. Not about Garrett, about Y/N.

Garrett's stories had always revolved around bruises, shouting matches, slammed doors, and a father who seemed determined to turn every room he entered into a battlefield. Logan knew enough to understand why Garrett carried some of the things he did. Knew enough to understand where the anger came from. But Y/N had always been the missing piece of that story.

He'd never asked her. It wasn't his business. Garrett had trusted them with his memories, and Logan wasn't about to start digging for details that hadn't been offered. Still, he couldn't help wondering where Y/N fit into all of it. Where she'd been during those years. What she'd seen. What she'd heard through bedroom walls. How much of it she remembered, and how much of it Garrett had managed to shield her from.

Because sometimes Logan looked at her and saw someone who seemed completely untouched by that kind of childhood, bright, confident, quick to laugh. Then other times, he'd catch small things that made him think the opposite. The way she avoided conflict she couldn't joke her way through. The way she brushed off things that should probably bother her more. The way she seemed determined to carry every problem by herself rather than ask for help.

Like somewhere along the way she'd learned the same lesson Garrett had. Just in a different form. Hide the damage. Keep smiling. Make sure nobody notices.

Garrett had spent most of his life protecting Y/N. Which made this… Whatever this weird thing inside Logan’s chest was… feel worse somehow. It felt wrong in a way he couldn’t fully explain. Because standing here watching them, it was impossible not to see how much trust existed there. How much love.

And Logan was suddenly terrifyingly aware that he was looking at Garrett’s little sister too long again.

The girl beside him tried one last time anyway.

“So,” she smiled, letting her fingers brush lightly against his arm, “are all hockey players this antisocial or just you?”

Normally, Logan would've flirted back without thinking. Easy smile. Easy charm. Easy conversation. The girl was pretty. She was standing right next to him, clearly interested, practically handing him an opening. Usually, that would've been enough.

Instead, he barely reacted.

Because his attention kept drifting across the room.

Y/N was near the middle of the living room now, laughing as Hannah wrapped an arm around her shoulders. A second later, the two girls grabbed Garrett from opposite sides and started trying to drag him toward whatever disaster counted as dancing tonight.

Garrett immediately looked annoyed. Or at least he tried to. His mouth was already twitching before they even managed to pull him away from the wall, the corner of it betraying him as Hannah laughed and Y/N nearly doubled over from her own success.

The idiot was enjoying himself.

Logan felt a soft smile tug at his mouth before he could stop it.

The girl beside him followed his gaze.

Watched Y/N and Hannah continue harassing Garrett while he complained the entire time, letting them pull him farther into the crowd anyway.

Then she looked back at Logan. And suddenly went very quiet. “Oh,” she said.

For the first time all night, Logan actually looked at her and he realized exactly what she'd been seeing.

Understanding flashed across the girl's face almost instantly. Then came sympathy. Which was somehow worse. The girl looked back at Logan and laughed softly.

Logan frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, still smiling. Then her eyes flicked toward Y/N again. 

Before Logan could come up with a response, she shook her head, amusement replacing whatever disappointment she'd felt.

"Good luck with that… Logan." she said sarcastically and he noticed she avoided the nickname. 

"With what?" he asked immediately.

But she was already backing away into the crowd.

"You'll figure it out."

And then she was gone.

No teasing. No accusations. No chance for him to explain that she had the wrong idea.

Logan stared into his beer for a moment.

Good luck with that, hockey boy.

Good luck whit what exactly?

He almost rolled his eyes. The girl didn’t even know them and had spoken like she’d uncovered some life-changing secret after one small interaction.

Please.

She didn’t know what she was talking about.

Y/N was just… Y/N.

Of course he looked at her. Half his friends were currently orbiting around her. Garrett was over there. Hannah too. Dean had practically appointed himself her personal bodyguard for the night.

Anybody would be looking in that direction. The girl had just misread the situation.

Completely.

Logan took another sip of beer.

Then, without thinking, looked across the room at Y/N again.

———————

The party kept moving around.

Music louder now. More bodies packed into the house. The heat unbearable from too many people dancing too close together.

And somewhere in the middle of it all that, Y/N.

She’d abandoned her jacket hours ago, now down to a cropped Briar U shirt and jeans, hair messy from dancing while Hannah and Allie screamed lyrics around her. Her "friends" were nowhere to be seen anymore, and honestly she felt way better around Hannah and Allie anyways.

She looked happy. Not polite-smiling happy. Not teasing-the-boys happy. Actually happy.

Free in a way Logan didn’t think he’d ever really noticed before. And maybe it was because this place felt safe to her. Their house, Garrett and the boys. She moved through the crowd without hesitation, laughing freely, accepting drinks from Tucker without checking them first, throwing her head back when her friends dragged her into another terrible dance circle.

Comfortable. Because she trusted that nothing bad would happen here. And that somebody would take care of her if it did.

Logan watched her spin badly with Hannah and Allie to some early 2000s song while Dean nearly fell over beside her and Tucker recorded the whole thing laughing.

A smile tugged at Logan’s mouth despite himself.

Logan huffed quietly into his beer and leaned back further into the couch cushions.

Conversation started around him, hockey schedules, classes, some argument about playoffs, but it all blurred together after a while.

Because every few minutes his eyes found her again.

Y/N stealing somebody’s drink. Y/N laughing so hard she doubled over. Y/N dancing terribly on purpose just to make everyone laugh harder. Every glance lasted a little too long. Every time he looked away, his attention drifted right back. He never noticed her like that before. And the more he noticed it the worse it felt.

Because Garrett trusted him.

Hell, Y/N trusted him. She was not only her best friend’s sister, she was his friend too.

She walked into this house without thinking twice. Safe enough to steal their drinks, fall asleep on their couches, and trust that nobody would ever see more of it.

The thought settled heavily in Logan's chest.

Because he'd always hated when people said men and women couldn't just be friends. Hated the idea that every friendship secretly came with an expiration date, that eventually one person always wanted more. And yet, watching Y/N laugh her way through the crowd, made Logan feel like an asshole.

Because as far as she knew, he just another one of the boys.

Then suddenly—

“Jooooohnny.”

A body dropped onto the couch beside him hard enough to make him jolt slightly. Followed by Garrett, Tucker, Dean, Hannah and Allie walking in the living room.

Y/N grinned at him lazily, very obviously drunk.

Her cheeks were flushed pink from dancing, her eyes bright and unfocused as she made a grab for the beer in his hand.

Logan dodged easily.

Drunk Y/N had terrible reflexes.

“People’s princess,” Dean said sitting on the armchair. “Finally tired of entertaining your subjects”

Y/N pointed at him dramatically. “It’s just a break… I’ll be right back”

“You spilled vodka on my shoes twenty minutes ago.”

“And yet you forgave me because I’m cute.”

“No,” Garrett muttered, appearing behind the couch suddenly. “he forgave you because you’re five seconds from falling over.”

Y/N gasped softly. “I’m not even that bad”

She leaned further into Logan’s side as she said it, completely unbothered. Logan went still instantly.

“Hi,” she said suddenly, squinting up at him. “Why do you look depressed?”

“I’m literally just sitting here.”

“Yeah,” she nodded seriously. “But, like… depressing.”

The boys chuckled

Y/N ignored tem completely and kept staring at Logan with drunken concentration like she was genuinely trying to solve a puzzle.

Then she narrowed her eyes.

“…you’re boooring. You just scored 3 goals in a important game, and spend the night sitting on this couch… you are no fun”

Logan looked down at her and suddenly realized just how close she was.

Close enough to see her melted make up and the faint glitter still stubbornly clinging near the corners of her eyes. Close enough to smell alcohol mixed with her perfume. Close enough that if she leaned even a little more—

Y/N blinked up at him slowly with heavy, sleepy eyes, still waiting for an answer to whatever nonsense accusation she’d just made. Completely unaware of the effect she was having on him. His throat tightened. Logan swallowed hard before he caught himself.

Then immediately leaned back, giving her shoulder a light shove.

“Shut up,” he muttered with a nervous chuckle. “You are dead-ass drunk.”

Y/N gasped dramatically like he’d deeply insulted her.

“I’m not drunk.”

“You almost walked into my lamp ten minutes ago.” Tucker accused

“The lamp moved.” she said dramaticlly

Dean nodded solemnly from the floor. “Honestly? I saw it too.”

“Thank you.”

Garrett looked exhausted. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Y/N ignored him entirely and stole Logan’s beer again before he could stop her.

“Hey—”

“You share,” she informed him.

“You’ve had, like, four drinks already.” he took his beer back

“And?” She tilted her head lazily against the couch cushion. “I want to have five" she pouted

And suddenly Logan felt hyperaware again of the fact that she was practically folded against his side.

This felt dangerously wrong. Not because she was doing anything inappropriate. Y/N was just being Y/N. Comfortable, loud, affectionate when drunk, the problem was that she didn’t know the effect this suddenly had on him.

“You are,” she insisted, poking his ribs weakly. “You are all weird and quiet.”

Logan nearly choked on his beer. “No, I’m not.”

Y/N chuckled again, soft and tired this time, until she suddenly dropped her head onto Logan’s shoulder like gravity simply gave up on her. Everything in Logan’s body locked instantly.

Y/N was already half asleep.

“She’s done,” Tucker announced from the other couch.

“No shit,” Garrett muttered.

Y/N made a small annoyed sound without lifting her head. “I’m literally awake.”

“Congratulations,” Logan said dryly, staring very hard at the opposite wall instead of the warm weight resting against him. “Do you want a medal?”

“…yes. the golden one, in the olympics” she said sleepy

Tucker lost it laughing. Honestly, that was probably a sign he was drunker than he should’ve been, because it wasn’t even that funny.

And Logan smiled despite himself. Which was exactly the problem.

“Damn it,” Garrett muttered.

Logan glanced up.

Across the living room, Hannah and Allie were fully passed out on the opposite couch, tangled together next to Tucker.

And Dean suddenly disappeared , probably with the brunette he was hooking up with twenty minutes ago.

Garrett took a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose like the entire party was personally attacking him. “This is why I hate throwing parties,” he muttered. “Everybody has fun, then somehow the house is destroyed, the beer's gone, and we're the ones cleaning up tomorrow.”

"That's leardship Gare" Y/N mumbled

Garrett ignored her and continued “And don't even get me started on freshmen who discover alcohol for the first time and immediately forget how to function.”

“Love you too,” Y/N mumbled sleepily against Logan's shoulder.

Garrett pointed at her immediately.

“You are exactly who I'm talking about."

“No, I'm not.” She cracked one eye open. “I'm your favorite.”

“You're currently drooling on Logan."

Logan nearly inhaled his beer wrong. Y/N lifted her head just enough to look offended "Liar ! I don't drool."

Then she dropped right back onto his shoulder anyway.

Logan was painfully aware of: Y/N curled into his side. His arm resting along the back of the couch behind her. The fact that he hadn’t moved away once.

Garrett sighed heavily.

“Hey,” he said finally, looking directly at Logan. “I gotta take Hannah and Allie home before it gets too late”

Logan blinked once.

“And?”

“And Dean disappeared.” Garrett jerked his head toward Tucker. “Tucker’s drunk off his ass.” Then finally: "So do you mind taking care of Y/N?”

The room seemed to go strangely quiet for a second. Garrett trusted him. And Logan felt like the world’s worst person suddenly. Because Garrett asked the question so easily.

No suspicion. No hesitation.

“Yeah,” Logan answered automatically, voice rougher than intended. “Course.”

Garrett nodded once like that settled it completely.

“Just make sure she drinks water before she passes out.”

Y/N lifted one finger into the air dramatically without opening her eyes. “Hydration is important for high performance athletes.”

“You had vodka mixed with an energy drink.”

“Balance.”

Garrett rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly shaking his head. Then he moved toward the couch, crouching briefly in front of Y/N.

“Hey,” he said quieter this time. “I’m taking Hannah back to campus.”

Y/N blinked slowly at him. “Kay.”

“You staying here tonight?”

She nodded immediately, not even thinking about it. “Mhm.”

“Okay.” Garrett brushed messy hair back from her forehead automatically. “Lock the upstairs bathroom door this time if you shower in the morning.”

Y/N looked offended. “That happened one time.”

Garrett laughed under his breath despite himself, kissed her forehead before standing again. Then he looked toward Logan one last time.

“Text me if she gets worse.”

Logan nodded once.

And just like that, Garrett handed over the most important person in his life without a second thought.

“I’m not even that drunk,” Y/N complained immediately after Garrett disappeared toward the front door with Hannah and Allie barely conscious behind him. “I don’t need a babysitter”

Her words blended together just enough to completely destroy her argument. Logan looked down at her incredulously.

“You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I’m just relaxing.”

“You called the lamp hostile earlier.”

“Because it was.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically before letting herself fall backward against Logan’s shoulder again with absolutely no concern for personal space.

“He’s so dramatic, I swear,” she mumbled. “Like, oh no, Y/N had fun at a party, somebody alert the authorities.”

Logan huffed out a laugh despite himself.

“G is just protective.”

Y/N groaned instantly. “He’s insane.”

“He worries"

“Too much.” she added.

She shifted again until she was practically folded into Logan’s side, one leg thrown lazily across the couch cushion beside him. Logan was trying very hard not to think about the fact that her face was tucked against his neck now. He swallowed once and stared straight ahead at the crowded living room like it personally offended him.

Y/N snorted softly against Logan’s shoulder, clearly amused. Then she tilted her head up suddenly to squint at him.

“You smell nice.” Everything in Logan’s body stopped functioning for a full second. Y/N blinked slowly, still completely serious. “Like laundry detergent,” she informed him.

Logan dragged a hand down his face. “You are never drinking again.”

Y/N smiled sleepily then, small and lazy and entirely too comfortable against him. Her fingers absentmindedly curled into the sleeve of Logan’s hoodie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe for her, it was. That was the problem. Because for Y/N, this probably meant nothing. She wouldn’t even remember.

Meanwhile Logan was sitting there hyperaware of every point where she touched him while guilt slowly ate through his bloodstream.

Tucker noticed. Of course he did. His drunk eyes narrowed slowly between the two of them. Logan looked up noticing Tucker's eyes on them and stomach dropped immediately.

“I’m gonna take her upstairs,” Logan announced to nobody in particular.

Mostly because he desperately needed to get out of this couch before Tucker’s drunk ass accidentally developed observational skills.

Y/N barely protested when Logan stood and took her hand, helping her up from the couch carefully. The second she got to her feet, she swayed slightly. He reached out quickly and steadied her.

“Wow,” she said, sounding genuinely impressed. “So quick.”

Logan laughed. “You're a figure skater. You're supposed to have better balance than this.”

Y/N squinted at him. “I can skate backward.”

“You can't walk forward.”

“Details.”

She stumbled toward the stairs with all the confidence of someone who absolutely should not be walking unassisted. Logan followed automatically, one hand hovering near her elbow just in case.

Halfway to the staircase, she faltered. Not from the alcohol this time. A small wince crossed her face before she could hide it, her hand briefly brushing her knee. Logan noticed immediately.

"You okay?" he rushed to her side "Something hurts?"

"Nothing."

"That wasn't a nothing face."

"My knee's being dramatic." she said as if it was nothing.

"You mean injured?"

"I mean dramatic."

Y/N blinked at him. Then shrugged.

"Yeah. Probably danced too much."

"You dance for an hour and injure yourself?"

"I skate for six hours and injure myself," she corrected.

Logan narrowed his eyes.

She ignored him. Then she looked up at the staircase. And stopped completely. A look of deep suspicion settled on her face. "There's more of them than before." brushing the subject.

Logan stared. "The stairs?"

"Yeah... and they are moving."

"They are literally the same stairs."

Y/N squinted harder. "and multiplying."

"Jesus Christ."

Before she could attempt climbing again and accidentally throw herself backward down the staircase, Logan exhaled sharply and bent slightly to lift her instead.

One arm under her knees. The other around her back. Easy and effortless.

Y/N let out a startled laugh immediately as he picked her up bridal style. Her head tipped backward dramatically while her arms looped loosely around his neck for balance.

Logan rolled his eyes as he started upstairs carefully “You’re impossible.”

“No,” Y/N sighed dreamily. “I’m amazing”

Logan laughed quietly under his breath before he could stop himself. Y/N looked up at him then, smile softer now, eyes heavy and unfocused in the dim hallway lighting.

And God. That was dangerous. Very dangerous.

Then suddenly she spoke again.

“Did you know,” Y/N slurred thoughtfully, “I quit pairs when I was little?”

Logan looked down at her. “Yeah?”

He wasn’t really paying attention anymore, just giving her enough responses to keep up with whatever drunk train of thought she was currently riding. Most of her words had blended together into background noise by now.

She nodded against his shoulder.

“Uh-hu. My partners could never lift me properly.”   

Y/N just kept going. “I hated pairs, honestly. Being thrown around, being caught, trusting somebody not to drop you.” She wrinkled her nose. “None of my partners were ever very good at it. I hit my head a lot. Then she laughed softly. “One of them told me I was too heavy.”

The hallway suddenly felt very quiet. Logan stopped walking. 

“What? Does Garrett know about this?”

The look of horror on her face was immediate. “Oh my God, no. He would murder a second grader.”

Logan considered that for a second. “Maybe he should have.”

Y/N blinked up at him. “We were like seven.”

“I don't care.” The answer came so fast it almost surprised him.

A smile tugged at her mouth. “He was seven too, Johnny.”

“Then he was a seven-year-old asshole.”

That actually made her laugh.

Y/N yawned and rested her head against his shoulder again.

“Besides,” she mumbled sleepily, “it worked out. I was always better on my own anyway.”

Logan looked down at her for a moment. He had a feeling she wasn’t talking just about skating anymore. The worst part was that she sounded like she believed it.

Logan tightened his jaw and started walking again. "Sounds like your partners sucked."

Y/N laughed softly. "Most of them did."

"They had one job. To catch you."

She laughed softly. "That's not technically how pairs works."

"Maybe not." He glanced down at her. "Still. If somebody's trusting you enough to throw themselves into the air, you don't get to screw that up."

The words settled between them. For a second, Y/N just stared at him.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the way he said it. But suddenly it didn't feel like they were talking about skating anymore too.

There was something strangely earnest in his voice. Something simple and solid. Like he genuinely couldn't understand how anyone could be trusted with something precious and then choose to let it fall.

A sleepy smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“That's a very nice thing to say, Johnny."

Logan huffed a quiet laugh. Y/N kept looking at him for another second, studying him like she'd discovered something unexpected.

Then her smile widened.

"You would've been a great partner."

Logan snorted. "I'm pretty sure figure skating requires grace and coordination. I'd be kicked out on day one."

That made her laugh. And he smiled to himself proud of it "Probably” Her gaze dropped to his arm where it was holding her effortlessly. "But at least I would've known you were gonna catch me."

The words were casual. The effect they had on him wasn't.

As she said them, her fingers tightened absentmindedly around his bicep where her arm rested. Logan nearly missed a step. Y/N blinked down at her own hand, then squeezed experimentally once more.

"...wow."

Oh no.

"I never realized how fit you were," she mumbled, squeezing again as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do. "This is insane."

"Y/N." he warned

"What?" she asked innocently, looking up at him while continuing her completely unscientific investigation.

"Jesus Christ." he groaned

She laughed softly, still completely unaware of the fact that she was actively shortening his lifespan. Or maybe she knew… Drunk Y/N was difficult to read.

Logan tightened his grip under her knees slightly and pushed Garrett’s bedroom door open with his shoulder. The room was dark except for the lamp near the desk.

Y/N immediately sighed dramatically once they entered. “Oooh my kingdom.”

“It’s your brother’s room.” he said unpatient.

Logan walked toward the bed carefully while Y/N kept talking nonsense against his shoulder.

“You hockey boys are weirdly muscular,” she informed him seriously. “Like… is concerning.”

“You are never drinking vodka again.”

“Okay but” she poked his chest weakly “your arms are ridiculous.”

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose. This was torture. Actual torture. Because Y/N sounded completely casual about it. Meanwhile Logan’s brain was actively trying to kill him. His body was betraying him. He lowered her carefully onto Garrett’s bed, expecting her to let go.

She didn’t.

Her arms stayed looped lazily around his neck while she looked up at him from the mattress with heavy eyes.

Too close. Again. Logan swallowed hard.

“Alright,” he said roughly. “You gotta let go now.”

Y/N frowned slightly like she genuinely needed a second to process the request.

Then finally “Oh. Sorry” she chuckled and slowly, she loosened her arms.

But instead of fully letting go, her hand caught the collar of his shirt lightly before he could pull away.

Logan froze instantly. Y/N squinted at him with sleepy concentration.

“You’re pretty,” she informed him very seriously.

Logan actually choked a little on air. Grabbing her hand on his shirt and pulling it away “Okay,” he said quickly. “Goodnight.”

Y/N started laughing again as he immediately tried stepping backward out of reach.

“Relax, Johnny,” she teased softly, falling sideways into Garrett’s pillows. “You look scared.”

Scared wasn’t exactly the word for it. Terrified felt more accurate. As he organized the pillows on the bed for her to sleep in. Y/N looked like she considered something for a moment before finally speak.

“So did you?”

Logan, halfway through pulling the blanket over her, looked up in confusion.

“I did what?”

Y/N shifted onto her back dramatically, squinting at him with a teasing little smile.

“Hook up with Chloe.”

Logan blinked once honestly confused “…who?”

“My friend,” Y/N clarified with an exaggerated eye roll. He still looked confused so she added “The blonde one.”

“Oh.”

“She wanted to hook up with you,” Y/N continued casually. “Has been talking about it all week.”

Logan snorted softly despite himself. Y/N looked deeply unimpressed. “Really annoying, by the way.” She threw herself harder into Garrett’s pillows like the entire situation personally offended her. “Acting like you guys are celebrities or something,” she muttered. “It’s stupid.”

Logan crossed his arms lightly, leaning against Garrett’s desk now and looking at her smirking.

“You literally introduced your brother like he was royalty downstairs.”

“That was ironic.”

“Sure.”

Y/N ignored him.

“She kept begging me to introduce you guys,” she continued. “I told her I wouldn’t, but then she was like, ‘I’ll just talk to him myself.’”

Her voice changed mockingly on the last sentence. Logan laughed quietly under his breath. Then Y/N looked back at him again.

“So?” she asked. “Did you?”

There was something oddly focused about the question despite how drunk she was. Curious and genuine watching him carefully.

Logan shrugged once. “No.”

Y/N blinked. “No?”

“No.”

“…why not?”

The question came too fast. Like she asked before thinking about it. Logan noticed immediately. Y/N noticed too, judging by the way her expression shifted slightly afterward. But instead of backing off, she doubled down.

“She’s pretty,” she said defensively. “Like... a lot”

“Never said she wasn’t.”

“She literally spent two hours fixing her hair before coming here.”

“Really? Didn't notice” he said crossing his arms.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him from the bed. “You flirt with everyone.”

“That’s not true.”

“Johnny,” she deadpanned. “I’ve seen you flirt with the library lady.”

Logan laughed. Actually laughed. And Y/N hated for one brief second how good he looked doing it. Drunk thoughts. Dangerous territory.

“She wasn’t really my type,” Logan said finally. Find a reasonable explanation.

Y/N tilted her head slightly against the pillow.

“And what exactly is your type?”

You are

The room got quieter somehow. Suddenly Logan could hear every small sound in Garrett’s room: the muffled conversations dowstairs through the walls, Y/N’s breathing, his own heartbeat being deeply unhelpful.

Because Y/N was looking at him now. Really looking at him. Drunk curious eyes soft in the low light. Logan forced himself to shrug casually.

“Don’t know,” he lied.

Y/N hummed sleepily like she didn’t believe him for a second. Then, after a pause:

“Yeah... maybe blondies not your thing.”

Logan’s breath caught so subtly he almost thought he imagined it himself. Y/N, meanwhile, was already sinking deeper into the pillows, eyes half closed again. Completely unaware of the damage she was causing.

Logan walked away and stayed still near the doorway for a second, hand already on the light switch.

Y/N’s breathing had evened out. Her eyes were closed. And for one dangerously peaceful moment, he thought she’d finally fallen asleep.

Good. Because he needed distance. Cold water. Maybe psychological intervention. He reached for the switch.

Then—

“Don’t leave, please.”

The words were so quiet he almost didn’t hear them. Logan turned immediately. Y/N was still curled into Garrett’s blankets, eyes barely open now, voice rough with exhaustion and alcohol. But the teasing was gone.

“I don’t like being alone like this,” she admitted softly.

Something in Logan’s chest tightened painfully. Because suddenly she didn’t sound drunk anymore. She sounded vulnerable. Young. And underneath the sleepiness and slurred words, there was something deeper there too. Something sad enough that Logan felt it instantly without fully understanding why.

Y/N shifted slightly against the pillow, blinking toward the dark hallway behind him.

“Where’s Gare?” she asked quietly. Not Garrett. Gare. Like small. Childlike. Old habit.

Logan leaned against the doorframe slowly. “He took Hannah back to campus, remember?”

Y/N frowned weakly. “Oh.” she said in relization.

Silence stretched for a second. Then quieter:

“He always stays.”

And there it was. That deeper thing again. Logan knew enough about Y/N and Garrett’s childhood to understand what she wasn’t saying out loud. Garrett always stayed because growing up, somebody had to.

Somebody had to stand between her and the yelling and slammed doors and bruises Garrett pretended nobody noticed. Somebody had to make sure she felt safe. And apparently even now, drunk and exhausted, part of Y/N still searched for her brother first when she felt vulnerable.

Logan’s throat tightened unexpectedly.

“Hey... it's okay. I can stay.” he said softly before he could stop himself.

Y/N looked at him sleepily. Logan hesitated only half a second longer before walking back toward the bed. The mattress dipped slightly as he sat carefully on the edge beside her.

Y/N relaxed almost immediately. Like his presence alone settled something anxious inside her. That should not have affected him as much as it did.

“You gonna stay?” she asked quietly.

Logan looked down at her for a long moment. Then sighed softly through his nose.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

Y/N’s eyes closed again almost instantly after that. Trusting him without hesitation.

And Logan sat there in Garrett Graham’s room beside the girl he absolutely should not be thinking about this way, while guilt and something dangerously close to tenderness twisted together inside his chest.

the first sign was the coffee.

she had always loved coffee. extra cream, too much sugar, the kind garrett used to make fun of whenever he caught her in the kitchen pouring half the carton into her mug.

so when she took one sip and nearly gagged, she knew something was wrong.

she stood frozen in her apartment kitchen, staring at the cup in her hand.

then she looked down at her phone.

three weeks late.

her stomach dropped.

“no,” she whispered.

but even as the word left her mouth, she already knew.

because there was only one person it could be.

dean.

the same dean who wasn’t supposed to be in her life at all.

the same dean who happened to be her brother’s best friend.

the same dean who had been sneaking into her apartment for months after hockey practices and late night road trips.

nobody knew.

not garrett.

not hannah.

not logan.

not tucker.

certainly not dean’s teammates.

it had started as a mistake.

one drunken kiss after a party.

then another.

then dean showing up at her door at midnight claiming he just wanted to talk.

neither of them had ever stopped after that.

and now she was standing in her kitchen with shaking hands and a pregnancy test hidden in the bathroom trash

positive.

positive.

positive.

three of them.

all positive.

her phone buzzed.

dean: u awake?

she stared at the message for several seconds before replying.

come over.

his response came almost immediately.

dean: be there in ten

he arrived in seven.

the second she opened the door, dean knew something was wrong.

his smile disappeared instantly.

“hey,” he said carefully. “what happened?”

she stepped aside to let him in.

her heart hammered against her ribs.

suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

couldn’t think.

couldn’t figure out how to say it.

dean reached for her hand.

“you’re scaring me.”

she laughed once.

it sounded more like a sob.

then she walked toward the bathroom and grabbed one of the tests from beneath the sink.

when she handed it to him, he frowned.

confused.

then his eyes dropped to the result.

silence.

the entire apartment felt silent.

dean didn’t move.

didn’t blink.

didn’t breathe.

for one horrible second she thought he was going to leave.

she thought he was going to panic.

or tell her she had ruined everything.

instead, dean looked up.

straight at her.

“you’re pregnant?”

she nodded.

his face went pale.

“yeah.”

another pause.

“it’s mine?”

she actually rolled her eyes despite the tears threatening to spill.

“dean.”

“right. stupid question.”

he sat down heavily on the couch.

running both hands through his hair.

she couldn’t remember ever seeing him look genuinely scared before.

but he looked terrified now.

minutes passed.

neither of them spoke.

finally dean looked at her again.

“what do you want to do?”

the question surprised her.

she had expected assumptions.

arguments.

fear.

not that.

not him asking what she wanted.

she swallowed.

“i don’t know.”

it was the truth.

she didn’t know.

everything felt impossible.

dean stood and crossed the room.

then wrapped his arms around her.

instinctively.

without hesitation

she buried her face in his chest.

and finally cried.

all the panic she’d been holding in since that morning came crashing out.

dean held her through all of it.

his hand rubbing slowly up and down her back.

“hey,” he murmured. “hey. i’ve got you.”

she laughed weakly.

“you look like you’re about to throw up.”

“i might.”

that actually made her smile.

dean pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

“but i’m not going anywhere.”

her eyes closed.

“you mean that?”

“yeah.”

he didn’t even hesitate.

“i mean it.”

another long silence followed.

comfortable this time.

until reality struck both of them at once.

garrett.

dean groaned.

she groaned louder.

“he’s going to kill you.”

“yeah.”

“actually kill you.”

“probably.”

she pulled away enough to look at him.

“what are we supposed to tell him?”

dean stared at the ceiling.

“maybe we don’t.”

she snorted.

“dean.”

“okay, okay. terrible plan.”

“awful plan.”

he nodded.

“the worst plan i’ve ever had.”

she laughed despite herself. for the first time all day, the weight on her chest eased slightly.

because dean wss still here.

he hadn’t run.

hadn’t disappeared.

hadn’t acted like she was facing this alone.

he squeezed her hand

“we’ll figure it out.”

“you don’t know that.”

“no.”

he intertwined their fingers.

“but we’ll figure it out anyway.”

she studied him.

really studied him.

the messy hair.

the worried expression.

the determination hiding beneath all the fear.

and suddenly she realized something.

they had spent months pretending this was casual.

pretending it was temporary.

pretending neither of them cared too much.

but dean wouldn’t be sitting here if it was casual.

he wouldn’t be holding her hand like his life depended on it.

he wouldn’t be looking at her like that.

“you’re freaking out,” she observed.

“absolutely.”

“good.”

he blinked.

“good?”

she nodded.

“because i’m freaking out too.”

dean laughed.

a genuine laugh.

then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

soft.

careful.

“guess we’re doing that together.”

for the first time since seeing those two pink lines, she believed him.

the future still scared her.

garrett was still going to lose his mind.

nothing about this situation was easy.

but she wasn’t alone.

and somehow, sitting beside dean on that couch with their fingers tangled together, that felt like enough.