Chapter 2 Fletcher
two
Fletcher
O’Connell’s lucky Declan got to him before me,” Zeke takes a swig of his beer, “or that motherfucker never would’ve walked again.”
“We have to look at the positive,” Jax begins, “Jere’s going to be okay.”
“Okay?” Zeke’s eyebrow flies up.
“Alright, it could’ve been worse. We just got lucky that the refs didn’t kick Declan out of the game after—”
“I would’ve happily gotten kicked out of the game, but only if they kicked that asshole out with me.” Declan flops down next to me, sinking into the couch. “But those refs never would’ve penalized their golden boy. They were so far up his ass, it’s not even funny.”
“You got his address?” Marcus leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The guys and I can go teach him a lesson. You know, a back for a back.”
I laugh, but we all know Marcus would do just that. He’d go beat the shit out of O’Connell for what he did to Jeremy, but we all know Jere would hate that.
It’s just not who he is.
“Appreciate it, man,” Zeke pats Marcus on the back, “but we’re just gonna go win a championship instead. It’ll hurt him more.”
“Whatever. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He tilts his beer toward us, eyeing us down intensely, to let us know he’s serious.
Not that any of us doubted him.
“I think our win is enough of a punch in the gut,” Jax says. “We still won without one of our best players and with the refs' horrible calls.”
“I don’t think it was even about winning,” I respond. “I truly think he just wanted to hurt Jere.”
O’Connell has had it out for Jeremy for years. I guess none of us ever thought he’d do something so reckless.
“Psycho motherfucker.” Zeke shakes his head.
“Speaking of.” Marcus points toward his front door, where Jeremy is slowly making his way in.
“The man of the hour.” I smile, scootching over to make room for him on the couch.
He’s walking with a cane… but at least he’s walking.
“What’d Coach say?” Jaxon’s eyes glue to Jeremy’s cane.
“Coach said a few weeks.” Jere groans as he sinks onto the couch next to me. “Hopefully, this fucking cane will be gone in a few days though. I’m already sick of it.”
“We’re just happy you’re going to be okay,” Declan adds. “He could’ve seriously fucked you.”
“He did fuck me.” Jere rubs his eyebrows. “He took me out of the game for the next few weeks in the middle of our best season ever. We could actually win a championship this year, and you’re telling me I’m going to be missing games?”
“But you’ll be on the ice with us when we win that championship.” Zeke sits forward, extending a fist for Jeremy to bump. “And then we’re gonna go to O’Connell’s house and egg it. After plastering photos of us with our championship trophy all over his car, of course.”
“And who’s gonna bail us out of jail when he calls the cops?” Brooks’ eyebrows narrow. “Because that son of a bitch would definitely call the cops.”
“Brinley, duh.” Zeke sits back. “She’s done it for us before.”
“Wait a second,” Marcus begins, “she’s had to bail you guys out of jail?”
“It wasn’t even like that,” Declan argues. “It was our senior year of high school, and we were doing pranks with our rival hockey team. It was one of those stupid things you did to try and psych out the other team.”
“Okay,” Marcus hesitates, “so what led to you guys getting arrested?”
We fall silent. We look around as if we’re trying to figure out who should tell the story or if we should tell it at all.
“Let’s just say Zeke had a not-so-great idea—” I begin.
“It was actually pretty iconic if I do say so myself,” Zeke interrupts.
“And it taught us to always learn who the parents of the other team were.” Jax pats Zeke on the back.
“How was I supposed to know that the captain’s dad was a cop?” Zeke shrugs. “Not like I was friends with the guy.”
“Which led to Brinley and Tate having to bail us out—”
“It wasn’t even bail. We were just in a holding cell. Brinley paid a small fine that we got for vandalism, and my mom came and picked all of us up.”
“Then Tate grounded Zeke for the rest of the season. He wasn’t allowed to come up with any more of the pranks after that.” I chuckle.
“Speaking of Tate, where is she? I haven’t seen her all night. Did she finally get sick of you?”
“Ha ha.” I roll my eyes. “I guess they’re doing a girls' night or something. I don’t know. I was supposed to give her a ride here, but she said she made other arrangements.”
“She’s totally getting laid.” Marcus laughs, looking over at me. “She just didn’t—”
“She’s not getting laid.” I grimace. “And even if she was, it’s not our business.”
“You telling me it wouldn’t bother you if she were?” Zeke takes a gulp of his drink.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you guys nothing is going on there. She’s my best friend. She’s one of the most important people in my life. That’s it.”
The truth is, I fell in love with Tatum Lewis the second she moved in next door. I was six years old then, so I guess I didn’t technically know what love was, but I saw her sitting under a big oak tree in her backyard, playing a ukulele.
It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I sat in my backyard for the whole afternoon, just listening to her practice.
Right before dinner, she marched over to me and said it wasn’t polite to stare.
I didn’t know how to respond, but then she laughed and asked if I wanted to learn how to play a song. When my mom came outside ten minutes later to get me for dinner, she asked Tate if she wanted to join us.
After that, Tate had dinner with us every night.
“I thought I was your best friend,” Jeremy mumbles. “Not gonna lie, that kind of hurts.”
“Out of these bozos, you’re definitely my best friend. I just put up with these losers so I can get into the NHL.”
“So, you’re riding our coattails?” Declan asks.
“Indeed, I am. You got a problem with it?”
“Not at all.” Declan grins. “I’m gonna go get a water; anyone need anything?”
“All good, man,” I respond.
“I’ll come with you.” Jax hops off the back of the couch and follows Declan to the kitchen.
“Alright,” Marcus polishes off his beer, “are we really not gonna do anything about this O’Connell guy because—”
“Not my style, man,” Jeremy replies. “Our victory won’t taste nearly as good if he’s out for the rest of the season.”
“Well,” Marcus stands up, his eyes staying on the guy across the room who just caught his eye, “if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”