#graham!reader

So, now, whenever your phone lit up with another 911, every horrifying possibility imaginable crashed into your mind. You didn't remember grabbing your keys. You barely remembered sprinting out of your dorm. The drive to the Briar hockey house became a blur of red lights you definitely should've stopped for and speed limits you absolutely ignored. Your pulse pounded so violently against your ribs that it drowned out the music blasting through your speakers.

Please be okay.

Please let everyone be okay.

By some miracle, or sheer reckless determination, your Jeep screeched into the hockey house driveway in under five minutes. The engine hadn't even finished rumbling before you were out of the car. You bounded up the porch steps two at a time, shoved the front door open without knocking. Your breathing came in short, uneven bursts as your eyes swept frantically across the first floor, searching for blood, paramedics... anything.

Instead you were met with silence. Garrett, Beau, Logan, and Tucker stood shoulder to shoulder around the kitchen island, all four wearing expressions that ranged from concerned to thoroughly exasperated. Not a single one of them looked injured. They all looked far too relaxed. What the hell was happening? "Oh, thank God, she's here." Logan dragged a hand down his face, relief washing over his features.

Before you could demand an explanation, Garrett and Beau crossed the room. You reached your brother first, immediately grabbing both of his forearms. "I got your text," Your voice came out higher than you intended, adrenaline still coursing through your veins as your gaze traveled from his face to his shoulders, down his arms and legs, cataloging every inch of him for any kind of injuries. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He shook his head, making you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"I'm fine," Garrett assured gently, giving your elbows a reassuring squeeze to still your frantic inspection. "Promise." Releasing your wrists he gestured toward the staircase with the exhausted resignation of a man who'd reached his breaking point. "It's your knucklehead boyfriend." That alone was enough to make you wary. Ever since Garrett had become captain of the Briar hockey team, he'd made one rule abundantly clear, none of his teammates were to date his little sister.

He'd delivered the threat with the same intensity he reserved for playoff games, and every guy in the locker room had been smart enough not to test him. Well, everyone except Dean Di Laurentis. By the time the two of you had finally stopped pretending the feelings between you didn't exist, Garrett had nearly blown a gasket. It had taken months of Dean shamelessly kissing his ass, both on and off the ice, before Garrett reluctantly accepted that this wasn't another one of Dean's flings.

Dean had retired his infamous manwhore reputation without a second thought the moment you'd become his girlfriend, and somehow he'd managed to do the impossible: convincing your overprotective brother that he genuinely loved you. That however, still hadn't stopped him from finding new and creative ways to irritate Garrett. Nearly two years later, Dean could still get under Garrett's skin without even trying, especially if it involved anything to do with you.

"Is he hurt?"

"No."

"Did he get into a fight?"

"No."

"Did he piss you off?"

"Yes!"

All four guys answered in perfect unison which made a laugh escape you before you could stop it. Then a raspy coughing fit echoed from upstairs, followed by an aggressively dramatic sniffle that was somehow even louder than the coughing. Garrett squeezed his eyes shut, every muscle in his jaw flexing. "Dean has a cold." Silence settled over the room. After a few moments, you looked from Garrett to Logan. Then Tucker. Then Beau. None of them looked like they were joking.

"You texted me 911 because Dean has a cold?" Beau let out a sharp bark of laughter at your words before scrubbing a hand down his face, frustration evident in his features. "Normally I'd think it's adorable. You know I love you two together, but, Christ…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking every bit as exhausted as Garrett. "He's being so fucking stubborn."

Logan nodded before jumping in. "He won't take his medicine unless you're the one handing it to him. Barely touched any food because apparently it doesn't count unless you bring it to him." You had to practically bite your lip in order to stop another laugh that threatened to escape. "He has been like this all day," Garrett grumbled, you could have sworn you saw his eye twitch. "Every five minutes it's 'Where's my girlfriend?' 'Can someone call my girlfriend?' 'I think I'm dying. My girlfriend should know.'"

"I never realized someone could weaponize the common cold." Tucker admitted shaking his head as he stirred what you assumed was chicken noddle soup from the delicious smell. "You should've heard him this morning," Beau added with a dramatic sigh. "'Beau, if I don't make it, tell her I loved her.'" Your heart, traitor that it was, performed a full somersault inside your chest. Even stuffed up, feverish, and completely delirious, Dean still wanted you. Only you.

Garrett pointed toward the stairs. "Please, go deal with your idiot boyfriend." You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing outright knowing it would infuriate Garrett even more. Without another thought, you headed for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. As you reached Dean's bedroom, you knocked gently with the back of your knuckles. "Go away, G!" His voice carried through the wood, deep and rough from congestion, ending in a wet cough that sounded painful enough to make you wince.

A teasing smile tugged at your lips as you eased the door open, peeking your head inside. "I sure hope you mean my brother and not me," You teased softly. "I'd hate to have come all this way for nothing." Dean, who'd been curled into an impressive mound of blankets, turned sluggishly toward the sound of your voice. The transformation was immediate. His glassy, fever-heavy eyes widened before melting with unmistakable relief, exhaustion giving way to pure adoration.

"Babydoll." The nickname came out as little more than a dreamy sigh. Every ounce of misery on his face seemed to disappear the second he saw you. Well, almost every ounce. Your heart clenched painfully as you stepped fully into the room. Dean looked awful. His usually perfectly styled hair stuck out in every direction, flattened with sweat where it clung to his forehead. His cheeks were flushed a deep pink from the fever, while the tip of his nose had been rubbed so raw it was nearly the same shade.

Dark circles rested beneath bloodshot hazel eyes that struggled to stay open. He was shirtless despite being cocooned beneath two comforters, a sheen of sweat covering the broad planes of his chest and shoulders. A half-empty bottle of water, several packets of cough drops, a digital thermometer cluttered his nightstand. Used tissues surrounded the bed in messy little piles, some tossed toward the trash can with embarrassingly poor aim, others simply abandoned wherever they'd landed.

"Oh baby, you look absolutely miserable." You coaxed, gently shutting the door behind you. "I am miserable." His lower lip actually jutted out. Then, without the slightest hint of shame, he lifted both arms toward you. "Come here." Not a request, a demand. Or perhaps even a plea. Grabby hands opened and closed impatiently in your direction and your smile grew despite yourself. "Big, tough, hockey player, yet here you are being a big baby."

"Don't be mean, I have the plague."

"You have a cold."

A cough interrupted whatever dramatic speech he'd been preparing, forcing him to curl forward and cough into the crook of his elbow. By the time it subsided, he looked even more exhausted. You kicked off your shoes before crossing the room. The instant you were within reach, Dean's hands found your waist. With surprising strength for someone who'd apparently been on death's doorstep all day, he tugged you forward until you stumbled against the side of the mattress.

"There you are, missed you so much." He mumbled, sounding infinitely more content as he placed a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder. Your chest warmed at the affection, as he buried his face against your stomach with a relieved sigh, wrapping both arms around your waist like he was afraid someone might steal you away. His warm cheek pressed against your shirt, and despite the fever radiating from him, he melted into your touch the moment your fingers threaded through his damp hair.

"Everything already feels better." He whispered, eyes fluttering closed. "You've been giving the guys a hard time, haven't you?" You felt him shrug against you, his face showcasing the perfect picture of innocence. "I've been perfectly pleasant." A loud, disbelieving snort drifted up from downstairs, followed immediately by Garrett's voice. "FUCKING LIAR!" Dean didn't even bother lifting his head. "They're exaggerating." You laughed so hard you had to bite your lip.

"Beau told me you refused your medicine."

"I was waiting for you."

"Logan offered you soup."

"It wasn't your soup."

"Tucker made grilled cheese."

"Grilled cheese isn't Tuck's strong suit."

That was a complete and total lie and you knew he knew it.

"You are unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

His arms tightened around your waist, followed by another sleepy sigh that sounded almost blissful.

"I missed you, babydoll."

"I've only been gone since this morning."

"Longest day of my life."

His voice had gone quieter now, rough with exhaustion rather than theatrics. "I just wanted my girl." The confession, so simple and so genuinely vulnerable, melted of whatever amusement remained. You leaned down to press a lingering kiss against his warm forehead before brushing another across the bridge of his reddened nose. "I'm here now." Dean hummed happily, his entire body relaxing. "Yeah, you are." He murmured, already sounding sleepier than before.

You had a deal with your dad. If Garrett made it into Briar, he would pull every string he could to get you there. Garrett also researched ahead of time and found that they had amazing student disability services, including student ASL interpreters, assignment excuses (for you, such as doing a speech for a class), and extra time on exams. Phil also felt more comfortable sending you somewhere with Garrett cause then at least one person would know ASL or look out for you. Before you came to Briar, Garrett had told his teammates about you. Only his close friends were aware that you were mute, and he taught them basic ASL signs to prepare when you visited. 

Now, as an incoming freshman at Briar, you were nervous because most people don’t know ASL, so you sometimes opted for text-to-speech as well. At the beginning of the semester, Garrett made an effort for the guys to watch out for you and not be afraid to step in if other first-year students made fun of you. After your calculus class, Garrett insisted you visit his house and meet his roommates. He assured you that they knew you were mute and that they knew some ASL. All you knew was that these were the guys Garrett played hockey with and that they were good. 

“Hey, guys! Come meet my sister!”

You see a guy with curly hair behind the kitchen, cooking something that smells like a stew. You then see another guy with wavy brown hair and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, holding a hammer. They both wave at you. 

“Hey, I’m Tucker, this is Logan.” the one with the pink apron mentioned. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You replied. 

“Dude, I thought you said she was mute.” Logan spoke up.

“It’s called speech therapy, dumbasses. She can say basic words but not a full conversation.” Garrett shot back. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“My apologies, Y/N,” Logan meekly replied. 

It’s okay. I get it a lot.

“I remember that’s the sign for ok, so I think I’m in the clear.” Logan cheered.

You sighed at his sentiment. You then hear the door open behind you. It's a tall blonde with a wide frame and bright blue eyes. 

“Yo Graham! And baby Graham, you look just like your brother.” Dean bent down to look at you. 

Gross

“What does that one mean?” Dean looked perplexed

“She said, gross dude.” Tucker chirped. 

“How did you know that?!” Dean shot his head up at Tucker.

“It’s called reading, I wanted to know the important words in case she tried my cooking. Did you not look over the basic ASL language Garrett sent us?”

“Not going to lie, I glanced over it for a few seconds.”

“Seriously, dude?” Garrett looked at Dean, pissed.

“What? I thought I had more time to study.”

What’s the loud blonde dude’s name? 

Logan squinted at you again, trying to think. “I think she’s asking your name dude.”

Dean looked back at you and pulled his hand back. “Dean. Dean Di Laurentis. Don’t you forget it,” and then Dean winked at you. You looked disgusted. 

“Damn harsh crowd, I’ve never been rejected so subtly before. And what’s your name baby Graham?”

“Y/N.” You quietly replied. 

“So she speaks. Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Dean smiled before heading towards the kitchen. While they all sat, you turned to Garrett, already annoyed by this whole interaction. 

You told me they knew ASL, but they barely know anything, especially that blonde one. You signed. 

“They’re trying their best, ok? They didn’t have 18 years with it. They had, at most, probably had two weeks.” Garrett whispered low so they couldn’t hear. 

Should I just do the text-to-speech thing? It’s probably easier for them to understand.

“No, Y/N, just do what makes you feel comfortable, worst case I’ll be here to translate.” Garrett rubbed your shoulder in reassurance. 

Good, cause honestly, whatever the curly-haired one was making smelled good.

“Tucker’s a great cook, you can always come over for a free dinner if the dining hall food isn’t up to par.”

Last week, they had undercooked chicken, and I almost gagged.

Garrett laughed as he brought you back to the group. 

“She’s staying for dinner, guys!” Garrett cheered. 

·༻𐫱༺·

When Dean walked over after meeting you, he was debriefing with Tucker and Logan. 

“So that’s Garrett’s sister?” Logan inquired

“Yeah, dude, can’t you see the resemblance? They both got dark curly hair, and she also has his Angry Bird eyebrows.” Dean responded.  

“She’s just as expressive as him for sure.” Tucker added while stirring his chicken and dumpling soup. 

“How can you even tell? She can barely talk.” Dean, perplexed. 

“You can tell a lot from a person by just their face, unlike you, talking your ear off to someone any chance you get.” Tucker rolled his eyes. 

Dean looked over at you and Garrett talking, even though you were signing, he looked at your face, which looked a little concerned as your eyebrows furrowed. A part of Dean wished he knew what you were saying. He turned back to Tucker and Logan in the kitchen.

“How long do you think it takes to learn ASL?” Dean spoke out of the blue.

“My guess is probably one or two semesters, they have classes on campus for it.” Logan responded before heading upstairs to fix something in the bathroom. 

“Do you think it’s too late to register?” Dean frantically pulled out his phone to see if it fit in his schedule. 

“I’m sure you can email someone, I don’t think people are fighting over a spot in that class.” Tucker started tasting his broth before adding salt and other spices.

Garrett then walked over with Y/N and cheered, “She’s staying for dinner!” 

“I hope she likes chicken and dumplings.”

“What is that?” Garrret asked. 

“Its like a creamy chicken soup with bits of dough in it, its my mom’s recipe.”

Sounds delicious.

Tucker looked excited, “I know she just said delicious, and trust it will be!”

Garrett smiled, seeing how much effort he had put into communicating with you, unlike Dean, who still looked confused. 

“Yo G!” Logan had come back downstairs. “Dean was interested in taking some ASL classes. Do you know of any?”

“Oh? Already trying to make up embarrassing me in front of my sister?” Garrett patted Dean’s shoulder. 

“I just thought it’d be cool since I’m taking less credits this semester.” 

“Well, congrats Dean, you just won yourself a ticket to be my sister’s personal body guard. She’s taking an ASL course, you can join her class.”

Garrett, are you out of your mind? He’s going to bother me all semester. I’ve only met him for a few minutes, and he’s already on my nerves.

Garrett signed back, so Dean or the other guys wouldn't hear his response. I don’t want you wandering campus alone, plus Dean is intimidating enough that no one will bother you. 

What if the person bothering me is going to be around me almost every day? You signed at Garrett and rolled your eyes. 

Just stick it out for two weeks. If he’s really bothering you, I’ll tell him to fuck off, and I’ll drive you to school. 

You sighed, agreeing to Garrett's pleas and putting on a fake smile, excited that Dean would be joining your ASL class. 

Tucker looked up at both of you before serving dinner. “You guys good?”

“Yeah, she’s totally excited to show Dean the wonders of ASL,” Garrett smiled. 

You fake-smiled with two thumbs up, looking at Dean. Everyone eventually transitioned to the dining room table to enjoy the chicken and dumplings Tucker made. Despite never having it before, you found it delicious. When Tucker asked how it was, you said it was good, and then Tucker started to dance with excitement at your compliment. 

You had wished you could just enjoy your food and your brother's company, but unfortunately, there was a certain blonde who wouldn’t stop bothering you. 

“So, Y/N, what’s your major?”

Graphic Design

“What’s your favorite color?” Purple

“What’s your favorite food?”

Mac and Cheese

“What’s your favorite animal?”

Whale shark

“What do you do in your free time?”

Draw or paint.

Dean looked up at Garrett in anticipation. “I got none of that. What did she say G?”

“She said she's a graphic design major, purple, mac and cheese, whale shark, and draw or paint. If you’re going to ask her all these things, you'd better pay attention in your ASL class.”  

You looked down at your soup, hoping the blonde would give up on trying to talk to you, but he kept trying to get you to speak. You got up abruptly to refill a bowl of soup, and, like a puppy dog, Dean followed. 

“Allow me,” Dean grabbed the ladle. You rolled your eyes. Dean poured you a bowl and noticed it was mostly made of broth. There was barely any chicken, vegetables, or dough in your bowl. Your eyebrows furrowed. Dean noticed your annoyed expression and realized there was nothing in your bowl. He grabbed it out of your hands, dumped the soup, and dug deeper into the pot to get you more solids. 

“Thank you.” You quietly replied before scurrying off back to the table. Garrett asked if everything was ok and you nodded, continuing to eat. Dean came back shortly with another bowl, busy eating it this time, figuring you enjoyed some silence. You had finished the last drops of water in your glass before Garrett and Dean awkwardly got up at the same time to grab the pitcher from the fridge to refill it. You can hear them whispering and bickering by the fridge. 

“Dude, why are you also grabbing the pitcher?”

“I wanted to refill Y/N’s water.”

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden to my baby sister? I swear to god if you even try to pull one of your stupid flirty moves, I will personally slam you across the table. I bet it won’t even work on her”

“Watch me.”

Dean came back with the pitcher and accidentally spilled some water on your shirt while trying to refill your cup. You groaned before noticing Dean take off his shirt and wipe the table down with it. Dean looked over, hoping to see you blush at his figure, but was only met with a disgusted look and you turning to say something to Garrett. Dean didn’t even get to the part where he offered you one of his shirts to use in his room before you stormed upstairs towards Garrett's room.

“Nice one Dean. I bet she’s going to toss up her dinner after seeing that one.” Garrett laughed. Now Dean was the embarrassed one. Upstairs in Garrett's room, you grabbed one of his Briar U Hawks shirts and, without thinking, started changing with the door open. 

·༻𐫱༺·

Dean went upstairs to toss his shirt in the laundry and get a new one when he froze, noticing you in just a bra, mid-change. Without a word, he saw you rush and slam the door in his face. You were on the verge of feeling overwhelmed, sitting on the floor behind the slammed door. Why wouldn’t stupid Dean leave you alone? Garrett, hearing the slam, nervously rushed upstairs before knocking on the door. 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Garrett sounded worried, so you slowly opened the door, letting Garrett into his room before closing it again. 

“What’s going on? Are you okay? I heard the door slam.”

Dean is just too much right now. The questions. Spilling water on me. He also saw me in my bra.

“He did what?!” You grabbed Garrett’s arm before he could think about storming to kill Dean. 

It was an accident. It’s mostly my fault for not closing your door while I was changing. I’m sorry. 

“Y/N, there is nothing to be sorry about. I know my friends can be a lot but trust me they have good hearts.”

Is it just hard, you know? To keep up with all that energy.

“I know you’re trying your best. I’ll tell Dean to tone it down, especially since it’s going to be harder to draw a conversation out of you.”

Thank you.

Garrett pulled you in for a hug. It was one of the best things about Garrett. He was always understanding, not just about your disability, but also that you tended to be more introverted than he was. Garrett didn’t realize how extraverted all his friends were, and Dean was the king of it. He regretted suggesting that you put Dean in your ASL courses and probably should’ve tried to convince Logan or Tucker instead. Garrett then decided to take you home since it was getting dark out. You said your goodbyes to Logan and Tucker, and you assumed Dean stayed in his room after your interaction. Garrett dropped you off at your dorm before heading back to his house. Dean was still nowhere to be found before Garrett knocked on his door. 

“Yo Dean! My sister left, can I talk to you?”

Dean, now freshly showered in clean clothes, slowly opened his door. 

“For the record, G, it was a complete accident.”

“I know, she told me. But don’t get too comfortable now, cause that’s the last time you’re ever seeing that again. Am I clear?” Garrett 

“Crystal.”

“Also, I gotta ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Look, man, I know you love talking and socializing, but do you mind toning it down a bit around my sister?” Dean looked up, confused

“What do you mean?”

“She’s more of the introverted, artsy type, and we’re all outgoing jocks, you can probably guess how those two things don’t mix well.”

“Well how do you tone it down? I’ve never seen you more gentle with someone than her.”

“The first thing I do is listen. I let her do the talking so I can figure out how much she wants to socialize. Sometimes she ices me out, and I leave her alone.”

“But how do people just operate like that? I feel like I can’t go a few minutes without needing to speak to someone.”

“Believe it or not, Dean, people’s brains have different levels of social battery. I think yours never runs out. Just try to not pry or force conversation out of her, you have all semester to talk to her.” 

Garrett patted him on the back before going to bed. That was the one problem with Dean. He wanted to talk to you all semester, get to know everything about you. He was fascinated by you. Besides ignoring every attempt at flirting, he couldn’t believe you weren’t attracted to him. Every girl on campus wanted him, so why didn’t you?

·༻𐫱༺·

You returned to your dorm, and thankfully, the disability services gave you a single with your own bathroom. You set your backpack down from class before hopping into a quick shower. To take your mind off things, you decided to draw a little. You keep a small sketchbook of all your favorite foods you’ve eaten. Whether it was restaurants, home-cooked meals, or fun things you’d bake, you added them to it. You took out your phone and sketched the photo of Tucker’s chicken and dumplings. Despite trying to reminisce about how good the dinner was, you kept thinking about Dean. His stupid blue eyes were on you when you were disappointed with your soup. Without even saying anything, he knew exactly what you wanted. You thought Garrett could only do that. How could a random guy I just met know what was wrong even though I didn’t say anything? You figured it was just a coincidence and continued sketching. 

You realized it was getting late and also remembered that your ASL class was tomorrow with the loud blonde. You sighed, finishing up your sketch and finishing your nighttime routine before setting your alarm and going to bed. Tomorrow’s definitely going to be a disaster. 

You walked into your ASL class expecting Dean to skip or back out. But surprisingly, he was there early, reading an ASL textbook. Unfortunately, he noticed you, waved, and called your name, excited to see you. You had been avoiding the stares from some of your classmates before you sat down next to him. You pulled out your laptop to work on some designs for another class. Shortly after, Dean peeked over your shoulder and couldn’t help but talk to you. 

“Woah! That’s so cool what class is that for?”

You opted to use a text box in the corner to type your responses. “It’s for 2D Design, I have to align some shapes.”

“It looks fun”

Then your professor walked in. They spoke while signing. Even though Dean missed the first week, they were going over the alphabet and the history of ASL. Dean surprisingly took out his own laptop, writing notes and pulling up visuals of hand signs. You, still focused on your design, weren’t paying attention. You already knew ASL, but the course was mandatory for students who utilize it daily or student interpreters. 

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be paying attention?”

“I already know ASL, if you didn’t know.”

“Some of this stuff is interesting you know, like how it can have different variations.”

“It is a language you know, not everyone has a thick New York accent.”

“Hey! I’m from Connecticut. Not everyone can be from Boston.” Dean fired back, placing heavy emphasis on saying "Boston" in an exaggerated Bostonian accent. You rolled your eyes as you finished up on your designs, which you planned to print later. You still had about 45 minutes of class left and opted to pull out your food sketchbook. You turned to the chicken-and-dumpling drawing to finish coloring it in and add some shading. Dean naturally couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“Woah, is that Tucker’s dinner from last night?” You nodded.

“How do you get the soup to look like that cream color?”

You sighed, and then Dean caught himself for thinking what Garrett said. He realized he was probably talking too much and let you continue drawing in peace. Eventually, class ended, and you had finished the final picture. Dean, not wanting to bother you, started packing his bag and heading out. You tugged at his shirt, and he looked down at you. You showed him the final picture, and he looked at you in awe. 

“Y/N, this looks awesome! Do you mind if I take a photo of it to send to Tucker?” You nodded as he quickly grabbed his phone to snap a photo. He smiled at you before you both walked out of the classroom. The moment you stepped out, a group of girls walked over to Dean to talk to him. They didn’t even notice you, and one girl shoved past you, causing you to trip and drop your sketchbook. Some pages were falling out and getting trampled. You had tried to call out to Dean, but you couldn’t really scream or even say the word “Dean” yet.  You then opted to wave your hands in the air to where Dean saw your eyeline. Knowing Dean only knew the alphabet, you spelled it out simply. 

DEAN HELP

Dean squinted, trying to read the words you were spelling out, before he realized you were signing “help”. He excused all the girls out of the way to find you on the ground, trying to pick up your trampled sketches. 

“Everyone back up! You’re stepping on her things!” Dean shouted. Before all the girls cleared out to let Dean help you, they made comments about who this nobody is or why Dean is helping you. You ignored it and focused on making sure your sketches are ok. You realized the page you just finished had gotten crinkled, and there was mud and dirt all over it. You looked at it in disappointment and felt like crying. Dean saw your disappointed face and turned to face you. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I took a photo of it, I can text it to you!” Dean handed you his phone. You typed in your number, and he made your contact name “Baby Graham”. He texted it to you, and you thanked him, changing his contact name to “Loud Blonde.” He apologized to the group of girls, saying it won't happen again. Maybe Dean wasn’t the most annoying for now. He escorted you outside the building, where Garrett was waiting. Dean had to head to another class, and he said his goodbyes. 

·༻𐫱༺·

“So, how was he?”

He was ok, still talked a little too much, but he left me alone when I was drawing. 

“That’s good, I told you he could tone it down.”

Can I ask you something, Garrett?

“Of course.”

Is Dean popular with girls?

Garrett reached behind his neck. “Unfortunately, the whole hockey team is flooded by girls. But Dean gets around, if you get what I mean. Why did something happen?”

Some girls just trampled us after class, and some stepped on some art I just finished. 

“You better believe I will be having another talk with him.”

It's ok, Garrett. He helped me and told them to go away. He said it won’t happen again.

“So, it wasn’t the end of the world having him around?”

I’d say he was tolerable. I still don’t hate him.

“I’ll take it as a win. If he continues to bother you, you let me know ok?”

You nodded as you headed to Garrett’s car. Garrett dropped you off at your dorm before heading back to his house. You worked on some homework for your typography class. A text from Dean pulled you out of your zone for a second. 

Loud Blonde: Hey, I just wanted to apologize again for earlier. The boys want to frame your drawing in the house lol. 

Baby Graham: It’s ok, I still have plenty of sketches in my book. 

You thought about how difficult it is not knowing how to say Dean’s name, and about how he’s going to be around you all semester. You probably should at least know how to say it in case something happens again. You call Garrett to ask for help and whip out a notebook to take phonetic notes. 

“What’s up, sis?”

You texted him, “Can you teach me how to say Dean?”

“Oh, sure. You’d take the de- from door. And you remember what you’d say when I’d take away your Barbies?”

“Mean.”

“Yeah, so the end -ean part and you put those two together.”

“Doorean.”

“Oh, just the D part, -duh” 

“Duh-ean”

“Better, but it’s one syllable. I texted how it's pronounced phonetically to you.”

“Deen?” 

“Yup, you got it. Just keep practicing it. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, goodnight sis, don’t stay up too late!”

·༻𐫱༺·

You kept practicing by saying it to yourself and looking up videos on how people pronounce it. After a few tries, you got it mostly down. You finished up the rest of your work before heading to bed. You woke up, packed your bags, and headed to the campus cafe before your classes. You got a quick coffee before putting your headphones in, listening to music, and walking to your class. As you're looking at your phone, you hear someone calling your name over your music. You paused it and turned to see Garrett’s curly-haired friend. 

“Hey! Y/N!”

“Oh, hi.”

“My name's Tucker, in case you forgot. Are you also heading to a pre-calculus class?”

You nodded. 

“Nice, I’m also in that class. Sorry if you’re confused, but I’m also a Freshman here at Briar. I just got an off-campus living exemption for being on the hockey team. Do you want to head to class together?”

You agreed as you both quietly strolled to class. You also gave Tucker your number so you could easily communicate with him. He wasn’t as loud as Dean and enjoyed being in the moment, enjoying the weather. It was nice. You both sat together as you brought out your tablet for notes, while Tucker was busy on his laptop watching some hockey highlights. You texted him, nosy about what he was doing. 

Y/N Graham: Why are you watching Harvard’s hockey highlights?

Tucker: We have a game this weekend, Gar is drilling all the freshman on studying how they play. He really wants us to win.

Y/N Graham: Sounds like my brother alright.

Tucker: There’s a lot of extra pressure since they’re our rivals. The whole team is kind of on edge.

Y/N Graham: If my brother gives you guys a hard time, you let me know. I’ll knock some sense into him. 

Tucker laughed as you both went back to each other’s work. You took notes and practice problems, while Tucker wrote down formations and potential strategies. You compared this experience to Dean. It was calm, no forced conversation, just both of you in your own worlds. Even though you appreciated how much quieter Tucker was, a small part of you wished someone would text or tap your shoulder every 10 minutes. Time had passed so quickly that the lecture was over, and both of you stepped out to see Garrett, Hannah, Logan, and Dean waiting for Tucker. 

“There he is. Did you see the new videos I sent you?” Garrett motioned to Tucker. 

“Yeah, I also tried to come up with some ideas to try on the ice.”

Garrett then turned to you. “I hope he didn’t distract you in class.”

Nope. Unlike him, I actually took notes on our pre-calculus lecture. 

Garrett turned back to Tucker. “So, what do you know about the unit circle?" Tucker looked dumbfounded. Ashamed about being caught for not paying attention in class, Tucker kindly asked if he could have your notes. You smiled, motioning that you’d text it to him. You then saw Hannah pop up behind Garrett. She signed 

Hello, my name is Hannah. I’m Garrett’s girlfriend.

I know, he really likes you.

Hannah smiled at your response. You appreciated that at least his girlfriend is trying better than Dean did. Speak of the devil, the annoying blonde couldn't help but chirp up at you. He looked excited to show you something. 

Hello, Y/N.

Hello, Dean.

How was class?

Good.

“Did you see that? Was that good?” Dean looked down at you in anticipation. You nodded, and Dean excitedly cheered. “He practiced that conversation a hundred times with Garrett. Your name alone took thirty minutes.” Logan jumped in, putting his arm around Dean. 

You were impressed. Maybe the blonde wasn’t as dumb as you thought. 

“Yo, are we all heading back to the house? Y/N, you’re always invited.” Tucker motioned. 

Garrett quickly looked, counting that not everyone could fit in his car. 

“Logan, Dean, did either of you bring your car?”

Dean pulled his keys from his pocket, jingling them. “Who’s riding with me?”

Logan and Tucker were fighting, playing rock, paper, scissors to see who’d get to ride in Dean’s car. Unfortunately, Tucker lost. You all started to walk towards the parking lot when you opened the car door to a strong smell of stinky hockey gear and saw one of the seats down to fit Garrett’s hockey sticks. 

“Oh shoot, I forgot I had my gear in here.” Garrett put his hand on his forehead. 

Logan was about to offer you his seat when you stopped him, insisting he could go. Garrett translated that you mentioned that Logan fought for that seat fair and square and you’d go with Dean. Before you went with them, Garrett pulled Dean aside.

“If anything happens to my baby sister, you are dead, Di Laurentis.” 

Dean assured Garrett nothing would happen before walking off to Dean’s car. It was a silver BMW sports car. You could tell it was expensive. Tucker, being the gentleman, let you sit in the passenger seat while he sat in the back. Thankfully, his car just smelled like musk and whatever cologne Dean wears. He had leather seats and fancy buttons all over the car. 

“Better than Garrett’s car right?” Dean smirked.

“No.”

“C’mon, his smelly Jeep is not better than mine.” Dean pouted. 

You huffed and looked away from him. 

“I’ll prove it to you.”

Dean turned his car on, and it let out a roar. That didn’t really impress you, but his phone automatically connected and started to play “Party Monster” by The Weeknd. You turned your head to stare at it. 

“Oh? You like The Weeknd? He’s one of my favorite artists.” 

You nodded when you saw that Dean’s backup camera was extra special, with overhead, rear, and side views. You noticed the lights in his car bounced to the beats of the song, and there was basically a huge tablet as his control panel. During the quick 10-minute drive, you took the time to watch Dean as a driver. He was smooth, driving with one hand, and was very fluid. You had never seen him so focused. He drove surprisingly safely. You were sure he would speed or try to race Garrett home. But it was anticlimactic to say the least. You all made it to the house before getting out of his car, thanking him for driving. Tucker opened the house door for you and let you in first.

·༻𐫱༺·

You walked in to see Hannah sprawled out with her legs on Garrett as he had now transitioned to putting the hockey highlights on their TV. Tucker and Dean groaned at the sight of it. 

“G, seriously, we’ve been at this all day let’s take a break.” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“If we want to beat this guys, we have to study their new freshman, too.” Garrett showed a 20+ video playlist of highlights from all the players. You all looked in horror. You tapped Garrett on the shoulder.

Give them a break, you guys will be fine. Don’t get all stressed because Dad’s coming.

Dean noticed parts of what you said. Specifically, you mentioned that Garrett’s dad will be coming. It made him understand why Garrett was so intense about this game.

“Fine, everyone do their homework. But after dinner we’re watching this!” 

The group sighed in relief before they all split off. Before Garrett went into his room with Hannah, you had asked him if he had any scissors at the house because you needed them for a project.

“Yo, do any of you guys have scissors?”

“I have some kitchen scissors if that works?” Tucker asked. You shook your head, not wanting food or to ruin his blades with your materials. 

“I have a pair in my room, you can come with me.” Dean noted. You reluctantly followed him to his room. Unlike Garrett, he was a little messier. The bed wasn’t made, a basket full of laundry was on the floor, and his desk was covered in books. Even though it was messy, it smelled nice like cedarwood and pepper. You noticed an “ASL For Beginners” Book on there and smiled. Dean rummaged through his desk, found it, and handed it to you. You thanked him before heading downstairs. Dean, being curious, followed you down and watched your every step. Seeing you pull out the designs you worked on the other day, along with some other construction paper. He asked you about each step in the process, but you reluctantly replied in basic ASL or via text. 

It was strange that everything you told Dean fascinated him. It was like you were from another world and he was just born yesterday. You never thought you’d be sitting at the kitchen counter teaching a 6-foot-2 blonde how negative space works. He’d look at you with those innocent blue eyes, eager to find out what you’d say next. You noticed he would hold back more than the first time you met him, offering to help or bringing down his own work to leave you alone to do your project. He’d occasionally chime in to ask if you wanted a glass of water, snacks, or something to complement your progress. Unlike Tucker, it was nice to have someone who constantly cheered you on and checked in on you. Even though you were listening to your music, Dean would always find some way to get your attention. At one point, he found himself cutting out shapes for you. He’d ask you if it was right before handing it to you, looking in anticipation each time. 

·༻𐫱༺·

Garrett walked down with Hannah, commenting on the sight. 

“Interesting, I’ve never seen Dean be so gentle with…construction paper?” Hannah turned to Garrett for a reaction. Garrett had a confused and angry look. 

“What is he doing?”

“Aw c’mon Gar, they look cute.”

“Don’t you dare, if Dean makes a move-”

“Relax, he’s just helping her. I’m sure it's harmless. I mean you know Dean, he’s definitely busy with a bunch of puck bunnies. Plus, if she was annoyed I’m sure she’d text you to rescue her.”

Garrett and Hannah joined Tucker and Logan on the couch, who were fighting over a video game. It was strange to see Dean get along with you, let alone with a few words. Usually, when a girl came over, Dean would be all over her, or you could hear loud laughter from upstairs. It was eerily quiet to see both of you quietly working without much noise. Logan turned to notice Garrett had come back downstairs.

“Hey G? When are we heading to Malone’s? The team’s asking for an informal meeting.” 

“We’ll go in a few, depends on if Dean’s done playing arts and crafts.”

Dean’s head perked up. “Hey! I’m learning the importance of color theory!”

You smiled at his comment and turned your head to look at Garrett, worried.

What’s wrong, Garrett?

Nothing. Is Dean bothering you?

No, he’s helping me. I’ll be done in 10 minutes. 

“Do you want to join us at Malone’s? You can meet the rest of the team.” Dean interjected.

You were scared Dean understood your and Garrett’s conversation and nodded. 

“Great! I can’t wait to watch you draw a Malone’s burger.” 

·༻𐫱༺·

You and the group piled into the same groups, and you all pulled up to Malone’s. The group walked in as a giant roar of cheers came from a group of men that you assumed was the hockey team. Dean floated over and looked like he was his usual loud self. You, wanting to avoid dealing with a bunch of hockey jocks, drifted over to the bar and sat on a stool. You pulled out your sketchbook, intrigued by the food and atmosphere. 

“Hey! You’re Garrett’s sister right?” A girl with brown wavy hair asked you. 

You nodded, “Yeah, Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N! I’m Allie, Hannah’s roommate, can I get you anything?”

You pointed at a glass of water. Allie nodded as she poured you one. You then noticed a flood of girls come in. They squealed, pointed at the hockey team, and immediately went over to flirt with them. You saw various girls fawn all over Dean. Garrett wasn’t kidding. Girls love the hockey boys. You watched as Dean smiled, wrapping his arms around them. For some reason, you felt a twang against your heart. Watching Dean flirt and banter so easily. You wish you could match his energy as those girls did. From far away, it looked like they were a well-oiled machine, never losing steam every chance they opened their stupid mouths. Shit. Why did you care? He’s your brother’s best friend. He probably would want someone who could talk back anyway. 

You had always found it hard to date, which was why you never did. You believed no one could ever be understanding enough to learn ASL for you or be patient when you’d type out a response. The only person who would do that is. You thought Dean would be a refreshing change of heart, but he seemed to prefer the company of those girls anyway. As long as they were around, you were invisible, just like the other day after class.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Allie perked behind you. You swiveled in your bar stool to face her. You tipped your head towards the crowd.

“Ah, the puck bunnies? They’re a bunch of girls who are obsessed with hockey and hockey players. Don’t worry about Garrett though, he’s very loyal to Hannah.”

If only that’s what you were worried about. Whatever, at least Dean won’t be bothering you tonight. You sipped on your water as you sketched out the interior of Malone’s. A few minutes later, you felt a small tap on your shoulder. You anticipated Dean, but were surprised to see Logan. 

“Hey, how are you holding up? G sent me over to check on you.”

You gave him a thumbs up. 

“You want something? I promise I won’t tell G.”

“No thank you.” You quickly replied before focusing on your drawing. 

“That looks sick, G always mentioned you were a talented artist. I’ll see you around.”

Allie served Logan a beer before nodding to you and heading back to the crowd. You then watched Logan report to Garrett as he smiled and texted you. 

Garrett: If you ever want to leave, just text me, and we’ll go.

You gave him a smile before focusing back on your sketch, starting to outline it in pen.

·༻𐫱༺·

You then heard a larger crowd enter. You assumed there were more students before you heard whispers and rustling. It was a group of guys who looked similar in build to the hockey team. You figured they were on the football or lacrosse team. You felt their presence come up behind you. 

“Who’s this pretty girl?” A guy started.

Another yanked your sketchbook out of your hands and dangled it in the air. “Look, she’s a little Picasso with all these drawings. Why don’t you focus on me instead?”

You were completely flustered. You weren’t sure whether you should punch one of them or scream loud enough to break their eardrums. 

“Hey, you’re Garrett Graham’s sister, right? The one who can’t talk? I’ve always wanted to date a girl who can’t talk back.” Another guy leaned, laughing very close to your face. You had had enough and threw your glass of water at his face.

“Asshole.” You slapped him in the face. 

The whole room then focused its attention on the scene you just caused.

“Why, you little bitch, I’ll teach you to shut up for good.” One started to charge at you before you felt a large set of arms pull you behind him. You, thinking it was Garrett, instinctively hugged the back of him, bracing for what would happen. 

“You bastards need to leave her alone. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Dean threatened. Wait a minute. Dean? Shit. You were holding onto Dean for dear life. Dean could sense your arms shaking. 

“She slapped me and threw the water at me first! We were just messing with her.”

“You think it’s funny to mess with someone who can’t easily speak up for herself? Imagine if someone was beating you down and you couldn’t scream for help, then what?” 

“C’mon Di Laurentis, she’s just a quiet, weird, art nerd, is she really worth your time?” That comment made your eyes burn. Sure, you were more of the artsy type, but the dumb lacrosse meathead was right. Why is Dean wasting his time on you?

“She is. She is a million times kinder, gentler, and better yet, quieter than your annoying loud mouth.” You peeled yourself off Dean before tugging on his shirt to have him look down at you. He flashed you a bright smile before turning back to the other loudmouth. 

“So either get the fuck out of Malone’s or I’ll make you.” Dean got closer to the guy’s face. He huffed and gestured for the rest of the team to leave, cursing Dean as he went. Dean turned back to you and crouched down to your level. 

“Are you ok? Did he touch you or anything?”

“No.” 

“Good.” Dean brought you in for a brief hug. 

A girl floated by to gush over Dean. She put a hand on his shoulder and brushed his bicep and explained how manly and sexy it was to see him go to bat to defend someone. You meekly turned your head away, jumping back to reality. Dean probably only sees you as your brother’s sister. Swooping in to protect you because he promised Garrett he would. Not because he had any feelings for you. Why in the world would Dean Di Laurentiis even go out with someone like you? You’re complete opposites. 

·༻𐫱༺·

Garrett quickly got up to check on you. You assured him you were okay, and he insisted on taking you home. Hannah insisted she’d just get a ride from Logan or Dean, so you and Garrett left to drop her off at her dorm. Shortly after you got back, you decompressed what just happened. Slightly overwhelmed, you began to cry, upset at yourself for putting yourself in that dangerous situation. You were also angry at Dean for coming in to help you when you wished it were Garrett. It would help your head stop spiraling as you replay what Dean said about you. You heard a knock on your door. It was probably the RA coming to do room checks, but you opened the door to see Dean. 

“Hey, you left your sketchbook at Malone’s, I thought you’d want it back.”

“Thanks, Duh-ean”

“Duh-ean, I like it,” Dean laughed to himself. 

You wanted to slap yourself for saying that in front of him. 

“It’s ok, don’t be so hard on yourself about it.” Dean noticed your puffy eyes and red nose. 

“Have you been crying?” Dean asked. 

You were quiet. 

“Do you mind if I come in? You could use a friend if you want to talk about it.” You debated the idea before looking up at his eyes. They had genuine concern. Not wanting him to report back to Garrett and have Garrett pester you all night, you let him in. 

You both sat on your floor against the wall next to your shoe rack. 

“So, what’s going on?”

I’m overwhelmed

“I know.” Dean put his arm around you and pulled you into his chest.

“I’m sorry I jumped in like that, I know you can handle yourself. Nice move with the water though.”

“Thanks.” You giggled.

“I was worried about you. Trust me they won’t be bothering you anymore.”

You smiled.

“I went through your sketches. You really are talented.” Dean turned to a page, and it was a sketch of a purple orchid.

"This one is my favorite." Dean noted.

“Mom.”

“Mom? Is this your mother’s favorite flower?”

“Yeah. Orchids.”

“It’s beautiful.” 

You both had a moment looking at it. Dean could notice every small stroke you made and the little details in each petal. After seeing your sketch, Dean was at a loss for words for the first time. You hadn’t seen this sketch in a while. It was one of the things you drew when you missed your mom. A tear lightly rolled down your cheek. Dean noticed, cupped your cheek, and wiped it away with his thumb. You looked beautiful, your skin glowing from the galaxy projector you turned on at night. Dean lightly pulled away and apologized. 

“Sorry, I know you’ve had a rough night. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Dean removed his arm from you. You two just sat in silence. Dean wanted to say something so badly to break the silence, but held back, not trying to ruin the moment. You were so different than the girls Dean would usually go for. They'd always want to talk or gush about him, it was refreshing to just sit in silence and enjoy each other's presence. You slowly reached out to hold Dean’s hand. 

“Thanks, Dean.” You spoke.

Dean turned to you. “Hey, you got it right this time, good job, Y/N.” Dean reached to pat your head. “And don’t mention it. You Graham’s can easily hold your own.” Dean continued to stroke your hair.

A few minutes had passed, and Dean was about to say something before he heard light snoring against his shoulder. You had passed out from dozing off at your projector, with Dean's warmth next to you. Dean smiled as he gently lifted you off of him and carried you bridal style towards your bed. You were half asleep as he placed you down. He brushed hair out of your face before Dean tucked you in. He had turned to leave when you grabbed his arm. You gestured to him to come closer to you. He bent down to meet you at eye level. You kissed him on the forehead. 

“Sweet. Dean. Thank you.” 

You couldn’t see it, but Dean felt a light blush rush to his ears. If he had a tail, it would be wagging, patting against the floor. 

Dean smiled, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Dean left quietly, closing the door behind you, this was the first time Dean didn’t want to leave a girl’s room. But you’re Garrett’s sister. What’s he thinking?

Dean got back to the house to find Garrett waiting for him, anticipating his sister. 

“How is she? Is she alright?”

“She’s fine Gar, she’s strong-willed, just like her big brother.” Dean patted his side as they both went up to their rooms.

Dean didn’t even notice his phone had blown up from a bunch of puck bunnies, the team, and the roommates texting him. When he was with you, he was in another world, ignoring all the noise from the outside. Dean ignored the text from Puck Bunnies and was torn about whether to admit he had feelings for you. For one, Garrett would murder him, and for two, he didn’t want to hurt you. He hated seeing you sad. The night you met, he felt it. He didn’t know that one simple look could give his heart a small poke. Seeing you with those puffy eyes made him only want to beat up the entire lacrosse team. As Dean lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, he pondered what in the world he should do. 

·༻𐫱༺·

By the end of the week, it was finally the day of the hockey game. It was a weekend, so you got to sleep in a bit for once. Your mind kept drifting to that night with Dean. Even so, your dreams were flooded with him, always ending with you kissing him, causing you to wake up as if it were a nightmare. But it wasn’t. You were more worried about the idea of Garrett finding out. Fuck, you like Dean Di Laurentis. The game went just as planned. Briar nearly won, 3-2 in overtime. Garrett and Logan scored goals, and you saw Dean body nearly half of Harvard’s bench. As you were walking towards the locker room to congratulate them, right outside the door, you heard some familiar voices.

“Well, aren’t we lucky boys? It's the little water tossing bitch from Malone’s”

“Stop.” You warned.

“Or what? You’re going to throw water at me again? Oh wait, I don't see any.” The cocky lacrosse player laughed.

You backed up towards the wall until you felt a large cup of ice-cold water fall on your head. You screeched out at how cold it was, and now you were drenched in water.

“Wow, for a girl who’s mute, you surely can scream.” 

Garrett immediately recognized your scream and ran out, fresh out of a shower. He almost broke the door off with how hard he slammed it open. Naturally, his teammates, including Dean, ran out to see you, crying and drenched in water. 

“You motherfuckers.” Garrett noted before punching one of the guys on the lacrosse team. All the other teammates jumped in to punch some other guys before the staff and coaches broke them up. Garrett and Dean got pretty beaten up. Hannah pulled Garrett off and walked him towards the medical area. You helped Dean up and noticed him wincing against his chest and arms. Dean thanked you as he looked up at you. 

“You’re wet, we should get you to the medical team, they can warm you up.”

“Dean.” 

“What?”

“Chest. Arm. Pain?”

“I’m f-fine, I promise.” 

“Liar.”

“Fine, I’ll go if you go.”

You agreed, holding onto him as he hobbled towards one of the medical rooms they typically use for PT. They gave you a towel and blankets as they propped Dean up on the examiner’s table. The athletic trainer motioned for Dean to take off his shirt, and he obliged, catching you off guard as you looked away, lightly blushing. You could see the various black-and-blue bruises on Dean’s body out of the corner of your eye. You knew what he did was taxing on his body, but seeing it only made you feel pain. Dean hissed as the trainer stretched him out and asked if various places hurt. 

“Good work, Di Laurentis, you didn’t fracture anything. Just ice your face tonight. Your girlfriend can help you hold it up for you.” 

You waved your arms, trying to deny it.

Dean laughed and thanked him as the trainer left the two of you alone. Dean tried to get up and winced before you walked up to help him. You were still a little cold, so you clung to Dean’s warmth. 

“Warm.”

“Gee thanks, for a second there I thought you were trying to help me.”

You hit him on the arm, causing him to drop his ice pack. You picked it up and handed it back to him. A little hurt, he pouted. 

“Wow, my ‘girlfriend’ is already trying to kill me.”

You wanted to punch him again, but he’s lucky he’s beaten up and needs your help. Garrett and Hannah catch up with both of you walking in the hallway. Garrett runs up to you. 

“Y/N! My sweet baby sister, are you alright, they didn’t hit you did they?”

“No, only water.” 

Garrett gave out a relieved sigh, mentioning that he and Hannah are heading out soon. Dean offered to drive you home, and Garrett didn’t argue. He trusted Dean. Plus, it looked like he needed someone to help him to his car. You helped Dean into the locker room, helping him pack his hockey bag as he lugged it over his shoulder. You were still on his other side, helping him walk. Even though he was limping, he reached to open the passenger side door for you. He slowly but surely got into the driver’s side, still wincing at his pain. 

Are you sure you’re ok to drive?

“Yes, I don’t want my ‘girlfriend’ to worry.” You were shocked at how much ASL Dean could comprehend in a week. 

Why do you keep saying that?

“I like it because I think it suits you.” 

You went quiet, staring at him. 

“U-Unless you don’t like it, I’ll stop saying it. You know what? Just forget about that whole thing together. It was a really funny joke? Haha?”

You kept staring at the bumbling idiot. 

“You don’t like it. Or do you like it? Just give me a sign Y/N!” Dean put his face into the wheel, causing the car to let out a small beep. 

“I like you, Dean.” 

Dean pulled his head up and pulled you in for a hug. 

“Are you sure? Did I say it too soon? I wasn’t sure how you felt.” Dean held the sides of your shoulders. You leaned into him for a gentle kiss. 

“I don’t hate you.”

“But…you like me right?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“What about Garrett?”

How about we just keep this our secret, for now? You winked. 

“Now we need our own secret language to flirt around Garrett, is there a Pig Latin version of ASL?”

You laughed as you both drove off to the house, then arrived and helped Dean up the stairs. You gave him one more kiss before going inside. 

“Boyfriend.” You spoke.

“Girlfriend.” Dean replied, smiling brighter than he had ever before. He’d been waiting for you to say those words and can’t wait to hear them again. 

A/N: This fic was so fun to write! I hope you guys enjoyed! Sorry that this one took a little longer, I just kept adding and adding more to it! Next fic will also be about Dean so stay tuned!

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.

an: i got a little carried away with this chapter and somehow it ended up way longer than i planned 😭 i really hope you enjoyed it! let me know what you think, i love reading your comments and ideas, also... should i make a taglist? if you'd like to be added, let me know! this fic somehow turned into an 18-chapter monster in my drafts (and it's still growing, which is honestly concerning). meanwhile i'm tagging: @archxve @mcueveryday new chapters every thursday ♡

The house was unusually quiet. No music blasted from Logan’s room. No television. No laughter from the living room. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the sound of rain tapping against the kitchen windows. Logan looked up from the sandwich he was halfway through making when the front door opened. Garrett walked in. One glance was all it took. Something was wrong.

This was different. His shoulders were tense. His eyes looked empty. Logan watched him disappear into the kitchen before following a few seconds later. Garrett stood in front of the sink, staring blankly out the rain-speckled window. He hadn’t moved.

Logan leaned against the counter.

Silence.

Normally he’d fill it. Normally Garrett would. Tonight, neither of them seemed capable.

The clock above the stove ticked loudly.

Finally…

“I gotta tell you something.”

Logan straightened.

Garrett’s voice was flat. Not emotionless. Worse. Like he’d run out of emotions altogether.

“Okay…” Logan said carefully.

Another long silence.

Garrett rubbed both hands over his face and sighed. Seemed like he was preparing to tell something. Logan didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush him. Just waited.

“My dad…” Garrett swallowed. “…used to beat me.”

The words settled heavily between them. Logan felt something tighten painfully in his chest.

He knew Garrett and his father didn’t get along. He knew Phil Graham was an asshole.

But this…

This wasn’t where he’d expected the sentence to go.

Garrett laughed quietly.

“You know what’s funny?”

Logan shook his head.

“I still can’t say it without feeling like I’m lying.”

He stared down at the kitchen tile.

“I keep expecting someone to tell me I’m exaggerating.”

“They won’t.”

Garrett looked over.

Logan’s expression hadn’t changed.

No pity.

No disbelief.

Just complete attention.

Garrett took a shaky breath.

“He wasn’t always angry.” Another pause “That would’ve been easier.”

Logan frowned slightly.

“He’d be normal.” Garrett’s eyes unfocused as memories surfaced. “We’d eat dinner. He’d ask about school. We’d joke. And then I’d have a bad game.”

Silence.

“Or I’d miss a shot.”

“Or I’d mouth off.”

“Or sometimes…”

He laughed bitterly.

“…sometimes nothing happened.”

Logan’s jaw tightened.

Garrett continued quietly.

“You stop trying to figure out why after a while.”

His fingers gripped the edge of the counter.

“You just spend all day wondering if today’s gonna be one of the bad days.”

Logan’s chest hurt.

He could picture little Garrett.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Coming home after hockey.

Wondering whether opening the front door would end with dinner or bruises.

“I got good at reading him.” Garrett’s voice was almost distant now. “The way he’d close the car door. The way he’d walk into the house. Whether he’d say my name.”

“If he was quiet…” He closed his eyes. “I knew.”

Logan felt sick.

“I started staying at the rink longer.” Garrett shrugged. “Coach thought I was dedicated. Another humorless laugh. “I was just killing time.”

His voice cracked slightly. “Sometimes I’d pray he’d be asleep when I got home.”

The kitchen felt impossibly small.

Logan couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t sound meaningless.

So he stayed quiet.

Garrett seemed grateful for that.

“I got bigger eventually.”

He looked down at his own hands.

“Started hockey training year-round. Started lifting. Dad hit me one night and I …” A pause. “I shoved him back.”

Garrett’s expression was unreadable.

“He looked at me like he didn’t know who I was.”

Another silence.

“That was the last time.”

Logan finally spoke. “You were a kid.”

Garrett gave a tiny nod. “I know.”

“No.” Logan stepped closer. “You were a kid.” The words were firmer now. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Garrett’s jaw tightened.

“I still think maybe if I’d just…”

“No.”

Logan cut him off immediately. “No ‘if.’”

Garrett blinked.

“You were a child.”

Another pause.

“Kids don’t deserve to get hit because they had a bad game.”

The words hung between them. Garrett looked away quickly. His eyes burned.

“I’ve never told anybody except Hannah”

Logan’s heart twisted.

“None of the guys?”

Garett shook his head.

Logan moved without really thinking. He wrapped one arm around Garrett’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Garrett froze for just a second. Then all the tension he’d been carrying seemed to give way. He leaned forward, forehead pressing against Logan’s shoulder. He didn’t cry. But Logan could feel him shaking.

“It’s over,” Logan said quietly.

Garrett let out a slow breath. “I know.”

“You got out.”

“…Yeah”

“You survived.”

Garrett nodded once. “I guess.”

“No.” Logan pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “I mean it.” His voice was steady “I’m proud of you.”

Garrett actually frowned.“…For what?”

“For surviving something nobody should’ve had to survive.”

Garrett stared at him. Like the thought had genuinely never occurred to him.

The silence stretched again.

Then Logan’s expression slowly shifted.

Something crossed his face.

Confusion.

His brow furrowed.

“…Wait.”

Garrett looked up.

Logan’s stomach suddenly felt heavy.

“Y/N…”

Garrett didn’t move.

Logan’s heartbeat sped up.

“She’s…”

His voice came out quieter now.

“She’s younger than us.”

Garrett looked at the floor.

“Garrett…?”

Nothing.

“Tell me she was too young.”

Silence.

Logan’s pulse pounded in his ears.

“Garrett…. Please…”

Still nothing.

“Did she also…” Logan couldn’t even finish off the sentence. “Did Phil…”

Garrett’s eyes filled with something Logan had never seen before.

Guilt.

The kind that consumed a person from the inside out.

Then Garrett gave the smallest nod.

Once. Barely noticeable.

It was enough.

Logan felt like the floor had disappeared beneath him.

“Oh…”

Logan closed his eyes.

“…Jesus Christ.”

The word left him as little more than air.

His mind raced through every memory he had of Y/N.

Her laugh.

The way she always smiled before anyone else did.

The way she’d apologize for interrupting conversations she hadn’t interrupted.

The way she’d tense whenever someone raised their voice.

Things he’d never questioned.

Things that suddenly fit together in a way that made him feel sick.

—

Logan sat in his car for almost twenty minutes. The engine had gone cold. Rain tapped steadily against the windshield, but he barely noticed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Garrett standing in that kitchen.

“My dad used to beat me.”

Then… that tiny nod.

The one that had answered everything Logan couldn’t bear to ask.

Y/N.

His girlfriend.

Garrett’s little sister.

How many times had he looked at her and missed it?

How many times had she smiled at him while carrying something no one should ever have to carry?

His phone buzzed.

Y/N: You still coming over? I made pasta :)

Logan stared at the message until the screen dimmed.

Then he started the car.

—

Y/N answered the door wearing one of his sweatshirts.

His sweatshirt.

Her hair was tied into a messy bun, and she smiled the second she saw him.

“There you are.”

She stepped aside.

“I was about to eat without you.”

Logan couldn’t smile back. The expression slipped from y/n’s face almost instantly.

“…Logan?”

He walked inside.

She closed the door.

“Is everything okay?”

He looked at her.

Really looked.

There was a tiny scar near her wrist he’d never asked about.

God.

How had he never…

“Logan?”

She took a small step toward him.

“You look pale.”

He let out a slow breath.

“I talked to Garrett.”

She froze.

“He…”Logan tries to stop his thoughts from rushing. “He told me about your dad.”

Everything inside her stopped.

For a long moment, she simply stared at him.

“…He what?”

“He told me.”

Silence.

“No.”

The word escaped before she could stop it.

“He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

“No.”

She shook her head faster.

Logan’s stomach twisted.

“You know.” She covered her mouth with one hand. Tears immediately filled her eyes.

“No, no, no…”

She turned away.

Logan stepped forward.

“Y/N…”

Her breathing became uneven.

“How can you look at me right now?” It was more like a cry of pain than a question targeted at Logan. But Logan still answered with the words he found to fit best.

“I won’t look at you differently.”

“You will! You are!”

“No”

“You do!”

She spun around so quickly it startled both of them.

Her voice cracked.

“You know now!”

The apartment fell silent.

Logan stared.

Y/N immediately regretted yelling.

She stepped backward.

“I’m sorry.”

Another step.

“I’m sorry.”

Logan frowned.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I yelled.”

“So?”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“So?”

“I just…”

She wrapped both arms around herself.

“I shouldn’t have.”

Logan’s chest ached.

“You don’t have to apologize for raising your voice.”

“I do.”

“No.”

“I do.”

“No.” His own voice rose without him meaning to. “You don’t.”

She flinched.

Hard.

Like she’d been struck.

The second Logan saw it, all the anger drained from his face.

“…Oh, God.” His voice became barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N couldn’t look at him anymore. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You yelled.”

“I…” Logan stopped.

Because she wasn’t hearing him. She was hearing someone else. Someone years older. Someone much crueler.

He took one slow step backward. Then another. Giving her space.

“I’m angry,” he said quietly. “But not at you, never at you sweetie.”

Silence.

“I’m angry because someone hurt you.”

“I’m angry because I love you.”

Her breathing hitched.

“And someone made you think this…” He gestured helplessly between them. “…was your fault.”

Tears slid silently down her face. Logan wanted nothing more than to hold her. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

She whispered so quietly he almost missed it. “I’m “I’m trying not to be.”

His heart broke.

—

Several minutes passed before either of them spoke again.

It was Y/N.

“He stopped.”

Logan looked up.

“My dad.”

She wiped her face.

“He stopped.”

“When?”

She hesitated.

“A while ago.”

“How long is ‘a while’?”

“I don’t know.”

“Months?”

“…Yeah.”

“A year?”

She looked away.

Logan noticed.

Immediately.

“…Y/N.”

She stayed quiet.

His pulse quickened.

“When?”

Another silence.

“After Garrett left he continued…”

The words were barely audible.

Logan closed his eyes.

Fuck.

She continued before he could say anything.

“It wasn’t every day.”

His eyes snapped open. She said it so automatically. Like she thought it made things better. “It wasn’t every week either.”

Another automatic explanation.

“It depended.”

Logan stared at her.

She kept going.

“If I stayed out of the house…If skating competitions went well… If I….”

“Stop.” His voice cracked.

She blinked.

“You don’t have to justify it.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You were.”

Silence.

“You just listed reasons.”

She looked confused.

Logan spoke softly. “There aren’t any justifications for what he did.”

“I always thought maybe if I was just…” She searched for the word. “…better.”

“No.”

“…Quieter.”

“No.”

“…More careful.”

“No.”

His voice was firm now.

“There was never a version of you that deserved that.”

The sentence seemed to hit something deep inside her. Because suddenly she looked exhausted.

“I don’t know how to believe that.”

Logan’s eyes watered.

“I know.”

—

Another long silence.

Then Logan asked the question that had been burning inside him since he’d left Garrett.

“I need you to tell me something.”

She nodded weakly.

“Did he really stop?”

She frowned.

“What?”

“Your dad.”

He swallowed.

“I need to know.”

She looked confused.

“I just told you he stopped.”

“I know.”

His breathing became uneven.

“But you’re smaller than Garrett.”

She stared.

“You couldn’t fight back.” He hated how shaky his own voice sounded. “So I need to know…” He rubbed both hands over his face “…I need to know you’re safe.”

Y/N’s expression changed instantly. She heard something completely different.

“So now I need protecting?”

“What?”

“You think I’m helpless.”

“No.”

“You think I’m broken.”

“No.”

“You pity me.”

Logan stared at her.

“Y/N.”

“You think I can’t take care of myself.”

“I think someone failed to take care of you.”

She went quiet.

He stepped closer.

Slowly.

“So now…” His voice softened. “…I just want to know you’re okay.”

She looked at him for a long moment.

Then whispered, “No one’s ever asked me that.”

Logan’s throat tightened.

“What?”

“No one asks if I’m okay.”

Another tear escaped.

“They ask if I’m over it.”

“If I’m fine.”

“If I’ve moved on.”

She laughed bitterly.

“They never ask if I’m okay.”

Logan closed the distance between them.

This time she didn’t step away.

He reached up carefully.

Not touching her.

Just giving her the choice.

She looked at his hand.

Then took it herself.

The moment their fingers intertwined, she started crying again.

Logan immediately pulled her into his arms. Slowly. Giving her every opportunity to pull away. Instead she buried her face agains this chest.

“I was so scared,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“I thought if you found out…” A shaky breath escaped her lips, “…you’d leave.”

Logan rested his cheek against the top of her head.

“I am scared of your past.”

His arms tightened around her just a little.

“I am scared of how alone you carried it.”

She cried harder. Not because his words fixed anything. They didn’t. Years of fear don’t disappear in one night. But for the first time since she was a little girl… Someone knew. The whole truth. And instead of turning away, Logan held her even closer.

After a long while, he kissed the top of her head.

“So here’s what’s going to happen.”

She sniffled against his chest.

“What?”

“You don’t carry this by yourself anymore.”

A tiny, watery laugh escaped her.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I absolutely do.” She tilted her head up just enough to look at him.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

“I’m dating a Graham.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “You people are unbelievably stubborn.”

Despite everything, she let out a quiet laugh.

“There she is,” Logan murmured, relieved to hear it.

She looked at him uncertainly. “You still want me?”

He blinked.

Then, with all the sincerity he could muster, answered, “Y/N, I wanted you before I knew. I want you now that I know. The only thing that’s changed is this: now I know there were nights you needed someone, and I wasn’t there.”

His voice cracked.

“I can’t change those nights.”

He rested his forehead against hers.

“But if you’ll let me…”

His thumb gently brushed away another tear.

“…I can be here for the next ones.”

For the first time that evening, Y/N didn’t apologize.

She simply nodded.

And let herself be held.

Your father made an unwarranted visit to the rink today. His visit, like always, sent you both into a downward spiral. A piece of you screams that you should stay and be there for your brother. Another piece says it is selfish to pretend you are spending the night at Hannah's, knowing that you are essentially taking away his ability to seek comfort from her tonight, too.

But then, you remind yourself of how he shut down the second you left the ice. He refused to talk, insisting he wanted to be left alone. If he is going to shut the both of you out anyway, you might as well seek out your own comfort.

Garrett leans against the doorframe, checking his watch. “I could drop you off, you know,” he offers, his voice carrying that familiar heavy protectiveness that always flares up whenever your father tries to force his way back into your lives.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” you say, your voice unnecessarily short as the guilt of your deception pricks at your conscience. The screen of your phone illuminates, a little banner reading ‘Your Uber has arrived’. “Plus, my Uber is here, so...”

Lifting your fakely packed overnight bag higher onto your shoulder, you step out onto the porch. Garrett follows you.

“Text me when you get there,” he calls out.

“I will,” you promise. You turn to walk down the steps, but a sudden surge of guilt stops you in your tracks. You turn back, catching his worried gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Garrett says, a fond smile briefly touching his lips.

Over his shoulder, through the still-open front door, you catch Dean lounging on the sofa in the living room. His posture is relaxed, his eyes casually tracking the scene, but there is a knowing smirk on his face as he pretends not to listen in.

Only once you’ve climbed into the waiting Uber and it’s pulling away from the curb does Garrett finally close the front door.

Once you are halfway down the block, you tap on the driver’s shoulder. “Could you just drop me off around the corner? You don’t need to cancel the trip, though.”

“Sure thing, miss,” the driver replies with a nod, turning the next corner. You step out onto the quiet street and pull out your phone, quickly firing off a text to Hannah.

You (20:40): left about a min ago, still okay to cover for me??

Hannah (20:41): Always. I’ve got you covered if he calls.

You (20:42): thanks sis❤️

You double back, moving quietly until you reach the rear of the hockey house. The metal of the fire escape is cold beneath your boots as you climb upward, aiming for Dean’s second-floor window. As expected, he’s left it cracked open just for you.

He’s cleared the stuff from the table under the windowsill, so you’re able to quietly slip inside the dark bedroom. You don’t need to turn on the light; you know your way around well. Moving in the dim light of the hallway spilling through the doorway, you strip off your clothes, leaving yourself in just your panties and a matching bra, as you slip beneath the cool sheets of his bed.

Downstairs, the house is alive with commotion as they start to pregame for their night out. You hear Garrett saying he’ll meet them out, but the way he storms up the stairs and slams the door tells you he’ll likely spend the rest of the night locked up in his room.

“I’m not out tonight boys,” Dean’s voice floats up from the bottom of the stairs, dripping with faux-exhaustion. “Some of us actually worked hard at practice today.”

There’s a series of boos and loud, mocking groans from Tucker and Logan.

It feels like an agonisingly long wait as you lay in the dark, waiting for Dean to come up. A minute later, the bedroom door pushes slightly open as Dean slips into the room.

“You took your time,” you hiss quietly once he’s closed the door.

He chuckles, pulling off his shirt in the dark. “Sorry. Wasn't easy to convince them that I'm sleepy at nine fucking thirty. I’m pretty sure Graham saw right through me.”

“Are you scared of Garrett?” you ask, watching as he strips out of his trousers.

“He’s a psycho when it comes to you and Hannah,” Dean admits, a dry laugh escaping his lips as he crawls into bed beside you. He pulls the covers off of you and gives an approving nod as he notes your matching set. “Hot.”

He pulls you closer, shifting so that he’s on top of you. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, breath hitching as you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Usually, you tried to avoid kissing Dean, it brought about feelings you were too scared to try and dissect. But he kissed you now and you welcomed it. His body is warm against yours, the kiss so messy and passionate that it leaves your mind dizzy.

He pulls away from the kiss and an uncomfortable feeling of pride settles within you as you see how utterly dishevelled he looks, his eyes lidded and lips swollen.

“Do you wanna talk about today?” he asks gently.

The mention of the day immediately sours your mood. The sudden anxiety and old family baggage come rushing back, and even though you know Dean is just trying to be supportive, the frustration immediately takes over.

You push slightly against his chest. “If I wanted to talk, it wouldn’t be with you.”

“Oh. Ouch,” he says, looking genuinely wounded.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you sigh, the tension turning into exasperation. “I just meant if I needed to address my daddy issues, I’d do that with a licensed therapist or some shit.”

“Daddy Dean can help,” he offers, his eyes flashing with a playful glint.

“And just like that, I’m dry,” you deadpan.

He reaches between your bodies, touching the damn of your panties. “The lie detector determined...”

“Dean.”

He laughs, a deep rumble vibrating against your chest. “I just mean I can be there for you.”

“I know, Dean,” you whisper, shifting closer to look into his eyes. “But right now, I just need you here.”

Dean closes the distance between you again. This time, he kisses you with deliberate purpose. It’s a kiss meant to prove a point, an unspoken promise that he can be so much more to you than just a fun hookup or your brother's teammate.

His hands are warm and sure as they glide over your skin, touching you everywhere apart from where you need them. He traces the curve of your waist, the line of your ribs, his fingers brushing the waistband of your lace panties before maddeningly pulling away to map the skin of your thigh.

“Dean,” you whisper against his mouth, a quiet plea wrapped in a gasp. You tug at his hair, trying to pull him down, trying to force him to skip the foreplay and just give you the distraction you are craving.

He hums against your lips. “That desperate for me, Graham?”

“Shut up,” you breathe, shifting your hips against his.

He whines softly as you keep shifting your hips up into him.

“How do you want it?” He manages out.

“I just need you to fuck me, and I don’t want it slow.”

Dean does as he’s told, shedding off his boxers before helping you out of your panties. “I’ll kiss you next time, baby,” he says to your pussy before lining himself up to your entrance, and bottoming out. Dean holds himself there for a few seconds, pupils blown.

“Move,” you whined, purposely clenching around him.

Dean grips your hips, fingers sinking into your skin with a pressure that you know will leave a bruise. He snaps his hips into you at a relentless pace, just as you asked. Your body and mind is consumed with him, the little grunts and pants he lets out as he gives you all he can.

It’s exactly as you wanted, hard and fast and makes you forget your own name. Your body revels in the burn of being used like this. You look down and watch as his length disappears within you, reaching the spot that had you seeing stars easily.

No amount of biting your lip is able to stop the loud moan that rips from your throat. Dean instantly leans over you, his palm covering your mouth as he keeps fucking into you.

“Shh, baby,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours. “They’ll hear you.”

He doesn’t move his palm from your mouth or take his eyes off of you as he keeps fucking you. Sweat’s rolling down his neck now, dampening his hair. A sudden burning desire to pull him closer, to lick the sweat off of his neck before kissing him deeply hits you.

“Do you want to cum?” He asks, ever so considerate.

You nod against his palm and he reaches between your bodies, three fingers pressing down as he rubs on your clit.

You cum as quietly as you can, biting down on his palm to keep quiet. As you come down from your high, he finally moves his hand from your mouth, his fingers locking with yours against the pillows.

When he finally cums in you, he holds you fiercely. It’s too much, too intimate. His hips move slower and with a passion that forces you to feel every single second of his orgasm.

The adrenaline fades, and the reality of the evening comes crashing back down on you. The heavy weight of the day hits you all at once, made worse by Dean’s spoken, and unspoken, confessions. You can feel the tears begin to prick at your eyes.

Before anything can truly settle, you slide out from beneath him, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the cum dripping from your hole. You stand up and immediately start grabbing your clothes from the floor, pulling them on with hurried, trembling fingers.

Dean props himself up on his elbow, watching your frantic movements in the dark. “Wait, where are you going?”

You had planned to spend the entire night here, tucked safely away in his bed, but you can't breathe in this room anymore.

“I’m going to Hannah’s,” you say, your voice tight as you pull your shirt over your head.

“But I thought you were going to stay?” Dean asks, his brow furrowing in confusion as he looks up at you.

“I don’t think I can,” you say softly, unable to meet his eyes.

“Please don’t leave,” he begs. The vulnerable tone in his voice is a rare thing, and it is almost enough to pull you right back into the bed, back into the safety of his arms.

But the voice in your head is too loud. “Sorry, but I have to.”

You pull on the last of your clothes and grab your overnight bag. He doesn’t stop you as you climb back down the metal fire escape. Tears stream down your face as you pull out your phone, typing in Hannah's address to call an Uber for real this time.

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.

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.