75. Jackson
Jackson
The click of the front door locking behind me sounded too loud, too final.
I hated leaving Ryan alone, even for the fifteen minutes it took for Logan to drive here from the rink.
Ryan was asleep on the sofa, clutching the hockey jersey I’d sent him, and the sight was a constant, raw ache in my chest. He was home, but the desert was still very much in his head.
“He’s not going anywhere, Hayes. Go talk to Coach,” Logan had murmured, his hand resting on my shoulder before he settled onto the armchair, a silent, steady anchor in the living room. Logan understood. He knew Jackson Hayes, the defenseman, was now tethered irrevocably to Ryan Carter, the soldier.
I drove back to the rink, the familiar smell of melted ice and rubber a confusing comfort. I found Coach in his office, Donovan sitting across from him, already deep in conversation. They looked up as I walked in, their faces serious.
“Take a seat, Hayes,” Coach said, gesturing to the empty chair. “Logan told us you skipped the mandatory film session, as well as leaving training early.” Guilt washed over me. “I’m sor..”
“Skip the apologies, Hayes,” Coach said, his usual gruff tone replaced by a sincere warmth. “Logan gave us the rundown. We’re a team, Jackson. We know you’re looking after one of our own now. We know how important Ryan is to you, but no more leaving early.”
Donovan nodded, his expression open and supportive.
“We’ve got the schedule covered, but we still need you on that ice.
It’ll be good for you to keep the routine, and it’ll give Ryan some quiet space to decompress.
You keep coming to practices and games, and let the team handle the heavy lifting for a while. ”
I felt a massive wave of relief. “Thanks. I just… I worry about him when I’m at the rink. The quiet in the house can be just as loud as the desert for him sometimes.”
Donovan leaned forward, his voice low and steady.
“Listen, Jackson. Nate went through the same thing when he got back. Adjusting to the civilian quiet is a battle of its own. While you’re here with us, there’s a local veteran’s support group—The Forward Watch.
It’s specifically for guys who just got home and are struggling with the transition.
It might help Ryan to talk to people who actually speak the same language. I’ll send you the details.”
Coach stood up and clapped me on the shoulder. “The team’s behind you, Hayes. You bring your A game here, and we’ll make sure you have the support you need at home. Ryan’s family now.”
I walked out of the office feeling a fierce, raw gratitude.
They didn’t just see Jackson the hockey player; they saw the man who had found his purpose in a soldier’s eyes.
I climbed back into my truck, the fear replaced by a solid, unbreakable resolve.
I wasn’t going to let the world break Ryan, and I wasn’t doing it alone.
I had a team, and now, I had a mission to protect my new home.