54. Dylan
DYLAN
“Patrick Callahan, huh?” Jax says, finally breaking the silence. I don’t know how long we’ve sat in it. Minutes. Hours. But I guess it’s now time to explain. They all know bits and pieces, Ethan and Griffin knowing the most, and Finn the least, but it’s time they all knew everything.
Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the hospital ceiling while I gather my thoughts.
“I thought your name was Carter?” Finn questions, confusion coloring his words.
Blowing out a breath, I meet each of their gazes.
Finn looks the most confused. Jax has a knowing expression, so I’m guessing he’s connected the dots of what I didn’t say.
Ethan offers me an encouraging smile, while Griffin just squeezes my hand, nodding.
I know if I tell the guys I don’t want to talk about it right now, that he’ll enforce it, but it’s time.
“Carter is the name I started going by when I decided to pursue college hockey,” I tell them. “My real name is Dylan Callahan.” Dropping my gaze, I confess, “Patrick Callahan was my father.”
“Patrick Callahan?” It’s Finn this time who asks that question. “As in, the Patrick Callahan. Hockey legend , Patrick Callahan.”
“The one and only.” There’s a hollowness to my words. One that seems to resonate throughout the room.
No one says anything right away. It’s not the kind of thing you can just brush over with a joke or a nod. It’s a bomb dropped right into the middle of us, a revelation that seems to shift the air.
I run my thumb over Griffin’s hand, still gripping mine, grounding myself. “After he died…it was like everything broke at once. My mom especially. She…” I trail off, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat.
Ethan shifts closer, his knee brushing mine in silent support.
“She fell apart,” I say finally. “She couldn’t eat.
Couldn’t sleep. Barely spoke. Some days she didn’t get out of bed.
Other days…” I glance up, forcing myself to meet their eyes.
“Other days, she thought he was still alive. Would talk to him. Set plates for him at the table. Call his phone and get upset when he didn’t answer. ”
Finn’s expression crumples slightly, his confusion replaced by something else—something raw and understanding.
“Those days were the hardest,” I admit aloud.
“She’d lash out when I tried to make her see the truth.
When I said anything that contradicted the bubble she’d encased herself in.
” I swallow roughly, shuddering as I remember those dark days.
Drowning in my own grief and waking up every morning terrified that she would have joined my dad, and I’d be all alone.
I’d take her throwing glasses at my head and screaming insults at me over that.
“She wasn’t safe,” I whisper. “Not for herself. Not for me. Eventually, Bear stepped in. Together, we found Oak Haven. It’s a facility for people like her, with mental health issues.
She was severely depressed, but truthfully, I think it’s more than that.
I think losing my dad broke her. They were…
” My throat closes over momentarily. “They belonged together,” I force out in a haggard tone.
“One doesn’t function without the other. ”
“I’m so sorry, Menace.” The bed shifts as Jax moves, his hand landing lightly on my ankle, a silent tether.
“She seemed like she was doing okay when we arrived,” Ethan says softly.
I nod. “I thought so too. She seemed…more like her old self.” I shrug. “But that’s the thing with grief and depression. It can hit you at any time.” I gesture around the room. “Being here, in a hospital. It triggered her.”
“We should never have let her leave the room alone,” Finn says, voice pained.
I shake my head. “You didn’t know. Honestly, it probably had more to do with seeing me than…being here.”
“What do you mean?” There’s an edge to Ethan’s voice, like he’s ready to jump up and defend me.
I can’t quite meet any of their eyes when I admit aloud for the first time, “I’m a reminder of everything she lost. I’m a reminder of my dad.
” I press my hand against my stomach to keep it steady.
“Seeing me is like ripping the scab off a wound that never healed. I always set her off. That’s why I rarely go to see her now.
” My voice is so small by the time I finish that I’m sure they have to strain to hear.
Griffin’s hand tightens over mine. “You shouldn’t have to carry that,” he mutters, voice fierce. Protective.
“She’s my mom.” My voice cracks. “I’ll do whatever she needs, even if what she needs is for me to stay away.”
“What about what you need?” Jax asks, his voice rough. He leans in closer, those deep, bottomless eyes of his holding me hostage. “Who’s looking out for you?”
His question lingers heavily in the air.
I’ve had Bear. He’s done everything he can—checking up on me, getting me enrolled in BSU, and offering me a spot on his team.
But it’s not quite the same. I appreciate everything he’s done, but I can’t unload everything that’s bottled up inside me onto him.
Not the way I could with my dad. Not the way I can… with each of them.
“We’re here now,” Ethan answers, voice low but certain. “You’re not alone anymore, Thorn.” He moves, his hand covering mine where it’s still tangled with Griffin’s. Finn shifts closer too, until his thigh is pressed firmly against mine. Jax leans against my feet, his presence a warm, solid weight.
“Never again,” he adds gruffly.
Finn nudges me with his shoulder, a small smile breaking through. “You’re stuck with us.”
Griffin presses his forehead to the back of my hand, breathing me in like he needs the reassurance too.
I laugh, watery and broken. But it’s real.
They don’t try to fix it. They don’t make promises they can’t keep. They just stay with me, anchoring me when the world feels like it’s falling apart all over again. And for the first time in a long while, I let myself lean into them. All of them.
I let them prop me up when all I want to do is crumble.
“What happened to Kyle?” I finally pluck up the courage to ask as we’re driving back to the house.
I was medically discharged earlier with a bottle of pain pills that I’m sure Ethan is going to force down my throat if I refuse to take them, and the aggravating advice to rest. Ugh, all I want is to get back on the ice and prepare for this week’s game.
The thought of missing yet another game this season prickles.
Yet, even as I shift in my seat, I feel the pull of bruised muscles, the tightness that still resides in my chest. None of it is as profound as when I woke up in the hospital two days ago, but it’s still there, a constant niggle when I move or breathe too deeply.
Hopefully, another couple of days will see it easing up enough for me to do some light skating.
Turning round from where he’s sitting in the front passenger seat, Finn flashes me a wicked grin. “He’s in police custody. Coach dealt with it all. Gave a statement to the police.”
“He did?” My eyebrows hit my hairline, but of course, I shouldn’t be surprised.
“They might want to talk to you too,” Ethan warns, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before he returns his focus to the road before us.
“But for now, they obviously have enough from Coach to arrest him.” Jax, sitting beside me in the back seat, gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“So he’s gone?” The relief that fills me is euphoric.
“He’s gone.” So caught up in the knowledge that I am finally fucking free of Kyle Reed—that he is gone from the house, gone from the rink, gone from campus.
Gone —I don’t even know which of the guys responds, but I feel Jax and Griffin press in on either side of me.
I feel the goofy grin stretch across my skin. The weight lifts from my shoulders.
I feel…free.
“Plonk your ass on the sofa and I’ll grab snacks for us all,” Jax orders as soon as we make it home. Finn is already directing me toward the living room, stealing the seat beside me on the couch.
Snuggled beneath a blanket, with Finn fussing over me, the TV humming in the background, and the guys chatting amongst themselves, I let out a yawn, my eyelids suddenly feeling ridiculously heavy. How can a simple journey home make me this exhausted?
And yet, I know it’s not the journey. Or, not solely the journey. It’s knowing that I’m safe. That I’m surrounded by the four of them, cocooned in a fortress of warmth, loyalty, and love .
It’s knowing they came for me. That they didn’t hesitate. That when it mattered most, they were there—dragging me from the water, chasing off the darkness, fighting for me when I couldn’t fight for myself.
I feel it in every glance, every gentle touch, every wordless exchange between them as they hover close. I’m safe with them. Safe enough to let go. Safe enough to let the weight of the past few days slip off my shoulders, to let my body surrender to sleep.
Because I know without doubt or question that they’ll be here when I wake.
That they’ll keep watch.
That they’ll always protect me.
Even from the monsters that wear familiar faces.
I wake to darkness.
The flicker of the TV plays muted images across the far wall, casting faint light through the living room. I blink slowly, the heavy comfort of sleep still pulling at me. It takes a moment to orient myself, to realize the solid warmth beneath me isn’t a blanket or the couch.
It’s Ethan.
I’m curled in his lap, tucked into his chest, and I wonder when that happened.
I’d fallen asleep with them all surrounding me, and never even stirred when he lifted me onto his lap.
His arms are wrapped tight around my waist, one large hand splayed protectively over my stomach, and his heat enveloping my back.
His heartbeat thrums steadily against my cheek.
Glancing around the darkened room, I notice we’re alone.