Chapter 19 #2
“What’s going on? Does another player need medical help?” Dr. Putnam asks. I’m curious too, so I look up and wait for the answer. If LA took out another of my teammates, I'm gonna have a problem with them, and it won’t be good when we play them again this season.
“No, it’s the dog trainer,” Josh says with a wide-eyed look and a helpless shrug.
Tucker.
“What’s wrong with him, and why is he back here?” Dr. Putnam asks, sounding as confused as I am.
“He’s freaking the fuck out. I think he’s having a panic attack or something.
He was struggling in the stands after Monty was hurt and taken off the ice.
I guess someone tried to bring him back here, and now we might have to get the EMTs to sedate him.
” Josh looks back when someone calls for him and ducks out of the PT room.
What the hell is going on out there? Is he worried about me? I’m fine.
But he wouldn't know that.
He’s never been to a hockey game before. He watched me get my ass handed to me and saw me lying out on the ice, unmoving. I was helped off by the medical staff. For all he knows, I could have some life-threatening injury.
Fuck, I need him to know I’m okay, that this isn’t an issue. Hockey players get hurt all the time. It’s part of the sport, and while I hate it and never want it to happen, it’s inevitable, and I expect it.
I have to go to him.
“Sorry, Doc, I gotta go see about a guy,” I say, gingerly standing and moving away before he can stop me.
“Monty, don't do anything to fuck up that shoulder any more than it already is!” he calls after me, knowing full well he couldn’t get me to stay in the room if he wanted to.
I burst out of the medical PT room into the hallway and follow the commotion and noise to where I hope I’ll find Tucker.
I turn a corner and there he is, my hot flannel daddy on his knees, hands in his hair as he makes a keening noise and curves in on himself, gasping for breath every few seconds.
His sister is kneeling next to him, holding the puppy in her arms, trying to talk to him, but it seems like nothing exists around him.
He’s in a world of his own making that’s full of pain and fear.
His face is red as tears track down his cheeks and drip onto his bent knees.
The people gathered in the hallway stare like he’s a sideshow, when he’s just going through something heavy they’ll never understand or experience.
Good for fucking them. They should feel so lucky and have a shred of empathy for someone who isn’t as fortunate to have it so easy.
“Get the hell away from him!” I yell as I walk up, still in my skates and the bottom half of my uniform.
Interns, med staff, and even a reporter or two look up with shocked expressions.
“Get the fuck away from my guy, right now, or I’ll have you thrown out of the building,” I snarl, moving between Tucker and the assembly of people, blocking him from their intrusive stares.
I want to rip their eyes out, beat their heads against walls until their memories are so muddled they’ll never remember this even happened. I want Tucker to have his dignity and be able to get through whatever he’s experiencing without people judging him. He’s fine and just needs time. And me.
I get puzzled looks as the group starts to disperse.
The reporters go back to the media room with curious and observant eyes.
I’m sure there will be reports of the unusual incident with the half-dressed team captain and the man crying in a back hallway in the after-game reports, but I don't fucking care.
The interns scurry away without a backward glance, and the med staff stand just far enough away to be helpful if needed.
Cami looks up with a scared face, her lips trembling and eyes red.
“I can't get through to him. He won't listen. Help him,” she says, voice warbling.
I drop to my knees in front of Tucker and with my good hand I cup his cheek, my fingers sliding through the soft beard I like so much and tilting his chin until our foreheads touch.
“Hey, baby, I’m right here. I need you to breathe for me,” I say quietly, in the calmest tone I can muster when my heart is racing, and seeing him like this threatens to break me. “I’m okay, see?”
I reach up and take one of the hands gripping his hair and slowly pry his fingers open so I can slide it down and place it against my bare chest, right over my heart.
I will my heart to slow, taking my own even, deep breaths that I’ve learned through years of physical training can bring my pulse down quickly during a session, and feel the effects take root.
My pulse calms from a racing staccato beat full of adrenaline and anxiety to a slower thump that feels more normal.
“You’re alright, too. We’re at Olympus Arena in downtown Atlanta.
You were watching the first game of the season, and I took a bad hit, but I’m fine.
I bruised my shoulder, and I’m mad as hell about it, but I get to play again, so it’s going to be okay.
What I’m really worried about is you. I need to know you’re okay. ”
Leaving his hand pressed to my chest, I bring my palm back to his face and use my thumb to wipe the tears from one cheek, then the other.
His lips are quivering, but he’s stopped the soul-shattering keening noise, and tears aren't actively coursing down his face.
I cup the back of his neck and hold him even tighter, wishing I had both arms and could hug him for real.
“Talk to me, baby. I need to hear you say something and know you’re with me,” I beg, my voice hoarse from pain and struggle.
“Sebastian,” he croaks, my name both beautiful and heartbreaking as he grapples with his internal fight against his demons to make it to the clarity of the present. He’s still struggling to breathe, his chest heaving with uneven gasps.
“Yeah, baby, that’s it. I’m right here. We’re in an ugly ass hallway in the back of the arena, on the concrete floor that’s probably hurting your knees.
It’s cold back here, but you’re warm as usual and feel so good next to me.
I just want to be wrapped in your arms right now and feel you around me ‘cause I only have one good arm and it’s a bitch trying to hold you without both. ”
The hand in his hair releases, and both arms shakily move around my waist to hold me tightly, his head dropping to my good shoulder as I keep my hand on his neck and press my lips into the back of his head.
He takes a deep, shuddering inhale that sounds like the first full breath he’s had in minutes.
“That’s right, just breathe deep for me, Country Boy. I got you,” I say in his ear as we hold each other on our knees, both broken, but somehow whole and safe together.
We cling to each other like this until he’s breathing normally.
All the while, I tell him he’s brave, it’s fine to be scared, we’re both okay, and we’ll get through this together.
I have no idea what I’m doing or if this is the way to help someone through a panic attack.
If he suffers from these often, I’ll have to look into ways to help him that are better suited.
For now, meeting him where he’s at and holding on tight while reminding him of the present is the best I can do.
The goal horn sounds, announcing the end of the game from out in the arena, and I hear the screams of the fans from here. We won the game after all.
“I’m so sorry,” he rasps into my neck.
“Nothing to be sorry about. Just repaying the courtesy of holding you together like you’ve done for me,” I remind him.
“You should be with your team,” he says, panic filling his tone again.
“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” I say evenly, pulling back a bit to look at him. He raises his face and barely meets my eyes before he’s looking at the floor again. “Don't hide from me, Tucker,” I beg, needing him to trust me, to see me and know he’s safe and I’m being so fucking for real with him.
“I made this so much worse,” he says, his voice battered and small. He starts to stand, and I lean into him to get up. I keep him close when we’re both on our feet.
I rub my nose along his ear and smooth my hand on his neck. “Why, because you showed you cared and were worried when I got hurt?” I ask, guessing at the cause of his panic attack.
He pulls away slightly, looking at the floor.
“I was fucked up and couldn't tell reality from my past. Even though I knew it was fine, I saw this pattern, and it dragged me into the next worst-case situation when it all went wrong.
I couldn't stop it. Everything hit me out of nowhere.
It was too much, and I wasn't able to control anything. I know better logically, but I couldn't stop it from repeating over and over until it was all horrible. This was an overreaction, and I made a scene. I’m such a fucking embarrassment. I hate that you saw me like this.” His voice breaks with his shame, and he looks away from me.
“I’ll take seeing you like this over never seeing you, baby.
I want you to trust me enough to feel whatever you need to.
” I smile and kiss his cheek, which blooms bright red again as his bloodshot blue eyes look up at me with shock before shooting over my shoulder as my teammates file past us noisily.
Tucker starts to remove his arms from my waist quickly, and my smile drops. I grip the back of his hair in my fist and growl, the sound low in my throat.
“Put your hands back, right now, and keep them where they belong,” I order.
“You get to hold onto me as long as you need to.” He reverses his movement and resettles his arms around me hesitantly.
I tug his hair again, and he holds me tighter.
I release my grip and smooth my hand down his neck, rubbing comforting circles now that he’s done what I want.
I look back gingerly, careful of the stretch it puts on my shoulder, and smile at the looks of jubilation and happiness on the faces of my teammates as they troop down the tunnel.
“Hey, Monty, we won! Your goal got us there, and we shut LA out,” Nico shouts, tapping my skate with the end of his stick.
“How you feeling, Cap? That shoulder gonna give you trouble?” Westy asks, stopping next to me.
Tucker stiffens and avoids looking at the guys around us, but he doesn't pull away from me this time. Whatever he’s feeling and thinking, he’s smart enough to know I want him right here, and I’m not taking anything less than his total acceptance.
“I’m better now that I have my guy with me. Nothing hurts as badly when I’m in his arms,” I tell them honestly.
Westy and Nico raise their eyebrows and look at Tucker with new interest. I haven't said anything to the team about my feelings for Tucker. I don't even know what to call this. I haven’t defined what we are with him, and he’s been adamant about not wanting anything with me for whatever reason, but after tonight, I think we can both agree there’s real affection, a hell of a lot of feelings, and a connection neither of us can deny.
“So, you’re, uh, together?” Nico asks, looking at Tucker’s arms around me and my hand keeping his head tucked into my shoulder, face hidden from their prying eyes.
“Fuck, man, you have eyes. If you couldn’t see the mutual pining and interest from across the room, or hell, feel it when you got too close to these two at the last photo shoot with the puppies, you’re not as observant as you think you are,” Westy says, smacking Nico in the chest. “Now leave them alone and let them have their moment together.” He hauls Nico back by the jersey and gives me a wave.
“Ah, you guys look good, Monty,” Ryder calls as he lumbers down the tunnel in his massive gear. “Guess I won’t be the only bi guy on the team after all.”
“I don't know about all that. I just know I like this guy. Labels don't matter to me other than that,” I admit in front of my team, running my hand along Tucker’s back and feeling him melt into me more. Yeah, he likes this more than he’d ever say out loud.
Damn, I guess I’m coming out to my team, and it’s not even scary.
This feels so right, there’s no other choice, or consideration for how I’d play this.
I just want them to know I care about Tucker and he’s going to be a part of my life now.
“Can I get in on that hug next?” Chad asks. “It’s been too long since someone big held me like that.”
“Shut the fuck up, Chad,” I warn. “I wouldn’t hold you if I were freezing, and it was the only thing between life and death.”
“Ouch. Damn, dude. I just want to be loved,” Chad says.
Suddenly, a stick comes up between his legs and hits him with a quick tap. He lets out a surprised yelp and drops to his knees.
“Stay on your knees and maybe you’ll find someone who will put up with your stupid jokes,” Davy says as he looms over Chad. “Your mouth makes too much noise. You must be quieter to get the love you want.” The stoic Russian turns away after dropping that truth bomb, and Chad with a nut tap.
We all watch as he walks toward the dressing room without another word.
“You took that stick like a good boy, Chad. Falling on your knees, ready for more,” Ryder says, his grin splitting his face. Chad scowls at him.
“That dude is one scary motherfucker who has it out for your nuts, man,” Nico says, holding out his hand to help Chad up.
Chad takes the help. “Nah, man. He loves these nuts. That’s why he’s always tapping them. Maybe Davy is my person after all.”
“Bro, Davy’s married to a Russian model. He’s not your person,” Nico says, turning them both toward the dressing room. “But keep trying your luck and you’ll find them.”
Once the guys are gone, I pull Tucker’s face from my shoulder and look at him. “Let me go change, and we can get out of here. My parents have Enzo tonight. Come to my place, since it’s closer.”
Tucker shakes his head. “I drove Cami and have the dog.”
“You’re in no shape to drive right now.” I look over at Cami, who’s made herself small off to one side of the hallway, silently observing our interaction the whole time. “Can you drive his truck and get the dogs taken care of tonight and tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll cover whatever needs to happen until he’s back. Thank you for helping him. I’m so glad you were here,” she says quietly. The look she gives me is heavy with unspoken sentiment and worry for her brother.
I nod at her, my chest tightening with emotion at that look. I may not know what I’m doing, but I’m fucking glad it managed to help Tucker even a little bit. I reluctantly pull back from Tucker’s arms and kiss his forehead.
“Wait here for me. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”