Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kason
The locker room is loud, excitement high from the win tonight. Shootouts are never my favorite way to end a night, but after overtime, when it was still tied at three, we didn’t have another option.
“Fuck yes, Madsies! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Rylan throws a sweaty arm over my shoulder before giving me a noogie. We’re half out of our hockey uniform, both of us bruised and stinky but fucking flying.
“Did you doubt me?” I tease, giving him a soft hip check.
“Fuck no!” he says, right before Kennedy jumps on us from behind, making us pull apart and almost stumble, cheers and laughter going up around us.
I strip, grab my shit, and head for the showers.
The hot spray of water on my muscles makes me moan.
I could stay here all night. Games like tonight are even more exhausting than others, but they make you feel alive.
I can’t wait to talk to Anthony to see what he thought.
He works, but he still manages to keep up as best he can.
Despite how good the water feels, I find myself hurrying through my shower.
Anthony always texts me while we’re playing, and I haven’t checked them yet.
When it’s a stressful game, I find ten or more texts, which makes me ridiculously happy.
I turn off the water, wrap a towel around my hips, then head back to my cubby.
Sitting on the bench, I pull my phone out, a smile already on my face, and…
nothing. Not a single message from Anthony.
My stomach begins to twist, like a tornado building up steam in my gut.
Maybe he’s really busy tonight? That’s clearly a possibility.
It’s not like I should expect him to sit around work all night worrying about my hockey game.
Or maybe something is wrong? I try to shove that thought from my brain.
Anthony is fine. Everything is fine. So he didn’t message me. Big deal.
Still, I can’t stop myself from wanting to check in with him, just to make sure nothing is wrong.
I call him, but it goes directly to voice mail.
As long as I’ve known Anthony, I’ve never known him to have his phone turned off.
My nape prickles uncomfortably. I try again as if something will have changed in five seconds, but it goes straight to voice mail again.
Every single bad thing that could have happened bombards my brain—an accident, all sorts of unrealistic scenarios, but the one that throbs and makes the most noise is Anthony being hurt.
“Hey, Ry?” I turn to my best friend to ask if he’s heard from Hayes, just as he comes over, his face somber. My heart nearly punches a hole through my chest. “What happened? Is Ant okay?” The worried tremble in my voice is impossible to miss.
“Hayes, Donovan, and Eric are going to Lush to check on him. They tried to call, but his phone is going straight to voice mail. I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.” Rylan’s tone is sharper than any I’ve heard from him.
“What happened? I don’t know shit.” But I have a feeling whom it involves, and I’m going to want to kill the motherfucker. I already do.
“Malcolm did a podcast. It’s…pretty fucking messy. He was particularly hard on Anthony.”
I immediately begin searching, and it only takes a second to find.
I don’t have to listen to it, the articles and headlines written about it are enough to make my muscles spasm and my heart thud.
Rylan was right—Malcolm was harder on Anthony than the others, maybe because he’s an easier target?
He has more in his past that Malcolm can use against him, and hell, even aspects of his life now, Malcolm can easily turn around to make it look like something it’s not.
A lot of the comments are supportive of Anthony, Hayes, and Donovan, some even going after the host of the podcast for giving Malcolm a voice, but it’s the internet, and negativity will always fuel the algorithm, will always get more attention than something good, and there will always be people who have mean, angry things to say.
Some attack the guys as if it’s their fault Malcolm is a terrible person.
Blaming the victim and making assumptions gets more reaction than having a little grace.
“I’ll fucking kill him.” My fist tightens on my cell.
I’m not one who’s prone to violence. Hell, I’ve never gotten in a fight in my life, but if I saw that man right now, nothing would hold me back.
I get why Eric did what he did all those months ago.
How can one man keep infecting our lives so deeply?
“Come on. We have to finish getting ready,” Rylan reminds me. We fly out tonight, which I’m really fucking grateful for. While I wish I was already back in LA, at least I know I’ll be back home with Anthony soon.
I send him a quick text, needing to at least have some kind of contact with him, even if it’s one-sided. What if he’s not at Lush? What if this changes things for him?
Me: I’m so fucking sorry, beautiful. I love you. You’re a better man than he will ever be. Don’t let him make you think you’re not.
I hurry and get dressed, checking my phone constantly.
I’m a nervous wreck the whole drive to the airport and getting on our chartered flight.
I’m not happy when I have to put my phone into airplane mode for takeoff.
Rylan shakes his head when he does the same, as if to say he hasn’t heard anything either.
Even with the in-flight Wi-Fi, I don’t get texts and spend way too much time searching Malcolm’s interview.
Hearing him makes me sick. What the hell is wrong with some people?
I will never understand this kind of cruelty.
What does he get out of hurting people the way he does?
The podcaster as well. Are views and money really worth more than people?
The sad truth is, they are for many.
The flight is the longest four hours and twenty minutes of my life. Every possible thing that could go wrong runs through my head, but more than anything, I just want Anthony to be okay. I want to hold him and tell him I love him and maybe plot Malcolm’s demise.
The second the wheels touch down at LAX, I switch off airplane mode, hoping there’s a missed call, a message, anything from Anthony. I want him to have been at the club, for Hayes, Donovan, and Eric to have found him, for him to know he’s not alone.
My pulse spikes when I see a notification, his name popping up on the screen. My breath catches, holds in my lungs as I look. I have no idea what to expect, hope he’s not hurting, that he doesn’t push me away.
Anthony: I love you too. I miss you. I can’t wait until you’re home.
The trapped air finds its way out of my lungs.
Anthony: And thank you…because I do know I’m a better man than he’ll ever be, and part of that reason is because of you.
My phone rings the moment I’m done reading the text, a picture I took of him flashing, and I can’t hold back my smile. He’s so fucking beautiful. The guys are filing out of the plane, while I sit there, staring at the phone like an idiot, my best friend waiting for me.
“Hey, you,” I say, instead of hello.
“Hey. It’s been a rough night. I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m glad I’m back too. Are you at home? I’ll come over. I don’t want you to be alone.” It’s the middle of the night, but I don’t care. I’ll go wherever he is and stay up all night with him if that’s what he needs.
“No…I’m actually at your place. It’s where I wanted to be. Hayes, Donovan, Eric, and Ana are here with me. I hope that’s okay.”
Most of the weight in my chest has completely fallen away now, my heart feeling like it’s floating. “So, you are home,” I say. “And yes. I’m glad they’re with you. Rylan and I will be there soon.”
“I can’t wait,” he replies, and I know that no matter what happens, now or later, everything will be okay. Anthony and I will take every battle on together.