Chapter Thirty-One

Justin

THE PRACTICE INTENSITY settled a little after final cuts, and Holcombe had been right. It was weed out the weak , and Justin acknowledged him as they walked in to eat. He got it now, and Holcombe nodded back. The board changed from two to three and then back to zero once the defense realized someone was keeping up with sacks, and Justin found himself looking at the blue sky and whistles being blown and pissed-off coaches shouting as Justin lay there grinning.

McReedy cursed and started yelling, and everything went to shit on the offensive line as Holcombe, from their defensive line, looked down at Justin and extended his hand.

"You want up, or do you want to lie there for another second and let them work their shit out?"

"Let's let them work it out. Good hit, man," Justin said.

"Want me to do it again?"

"Yeah, I do. Until they stop you from doing it. Sound good?" Justin reached up and took Holcombe's hand.

"Days. Since. Sacked. Zero, assholes," Holcombe barked, and the offensive line stopped squawking at one another and lined back up with a new target in their sights.

"I love this game!" Justin yelled out and called the play.

The next day, the whiteboard was missing; it now sat out on the field set up in a chair. Coach Richardson let it go, letting it all play out as Justin's back hit the ground again and again. Holcombe pointed to the sign every single time and called them all assholes for being unable to protect their QB. And on it went. Holcombe would back off, and they'd think they had it, and then Justin would hit the ground, and it would start all over again.

"Got big plans this weekend?" Holcombe asked as they walked out to the parking lot together.

"Yeah, it's my birthday on Monday, so celebrate this weekend with my family," Justin said.

"Same plan next week?" he asked.

"Until they get it," Justin said, and Holcombe grinned wickedly as only a twisted defenseman could.

Coach Richardson, standing by his SUV, nodded at Justin, letting him know he was on board with whatever they were up to.

Justin was happy to not feel like a complete shitshow as he drove home. Yeah, he was sore. He had a few new bruises and aches, but it was nothing like the first week.

"I'm on my way," Justin told Ethan on speaker as he drove.

Ethan sighed, long and exaggeratedly. "I guess I'll see you when you get here, then."

"Love you." Justin knew Ethan was so incapable of keeping a secret or playing it cool. Justin had no idea what he was walking into, but he suspected it was something.

He'd so called it as he had to park on the street at his own house due to all the familiar cars parked in the driveway. He shook his head at the balloon on the closed garage door with an arrow pointing to the backyard.

"Here we go," Justin said, so happy to be home. When he got closer, he heard Ethan laughing, trying to shush everyone, and then counting down.

"Surprise," their parents cheered, and Ethan was beaming as Justin widened his eyes and held his arms open.

"Holy…" Justin took it all in, then hugged Ethan, his mom and dad, and John and Bethany. "Look at that." He checked out all the pool patio furniture and the outdoor grill area. And then he turned to the end of the pool deck. "You didn't."

"You love it," Ethan said, beaming.

"I love you . I like all this. How did you do all this?"

"Oh, I had help."

Justin nodded, seeing John and his father's handiwork in the planning and tool skills that had been put to use.

Justin couldn't stop staring at the fishpond and waterfall, and then Ethan dragged him over to see the outdoor grill area with a new covered roof, rivaling John's setup.

"Thank you, everyone," Justin said, and then they all started in, telling him everything they'd done and how they pulled it all off.

Frank and Donovan came around the corner, and Ethan waved them over. He took the gift they brought and added it to the table. Justin was pleased Ethan had invited them.

John manned the grill while Bethany and Missy finished setting up a buffet line inside. Justin admired the blue kitchen, two shades darker, and winked at Ethan. He would cheat with the cake and appreciated everything they'd done for him.

Then, they all wanted to hear about the team.

Justin told them the latest about what he and Holcombe had going, and they got a kick out of it. Ethan, not so much, but he nodded, understanding the point. Justin and John talked about the cuts as they all ate. Justin shared his hopes for Jones and how it was going with McReedy, and then he discussed with John about how involved he was with Richardson, calling him in each week and his uncertainty over what to think about their meetings.

John thought Richardson was preparing him for a more significant role, possibly an assistant captain. Currently, Holcombe was the team captain, and he was a force to be reckoned with. He was also a veteran who had been with the team for a long time. It made more sense that he and Holcombe had bonded from the beginning now that John's perspective clarified it.

Ethan told him all about the new pond and waterfall and each fish's suggested names. It didn't surprise Justin as he produced a list: Finn and Finley, Spots, Coy, and Sunny. Ethan had hired the nursery to come out and replicate the setup. He showed Justin how much fish food to give them. He explained every water plant, and Justin asked if Finn and Finley were a couple. Of course , they were, and Justin kissed Ethan's temple, loving him even more, if that was possible.

Justin ate and enjoyed time with his family. His parents had found a condo and decided to keep their house and use the condo when they spent time in Florida. His mom wasn't ready to retire yet, but summer and breaks would be spent there.

It was a good evening. Justin opened his gifts, exclaiming over the electric blower Frank and Donovan had gifted them.

Ethan pointed a warning finger at him. "If you blow one leaf into that pool…"

"Never," Justin lied.

Ethan had given him a new game and some small things he'd mentioned wanting. The chiminea had been moved, and Bethany nodded her approval as the unneeded little fire sticks burned inside.

They were staying the weekend, and Ethan was pleased. It would not be long before the calm ended, and the storm and chaos began again. They spent the next day with their parents on the main beach, and Justin enjoyed watching Ethan look for shells along the shore. There weren't as many on their specific beach, but he managed a few and had a little collection going in the house.

"He's happy," John said, standing next to him, and Justin nodded. "Healthy again."

And he was .

Ethan's medications were down to the lowest level they'd ever been; he only took two a day now, and his therapy sessions had been scaled back to once a month. Justin couldn't recall the date of Ethan's last panic attack, but it had been a while.

Financially, Ethan was set for life and would never have to work if he didn't want to. Between Justin's income, the settlement he'd received from the university's insurance company, and the court-ordered restitution the convicted had to pay, financial security would not be a worry. Still, Justin discussed investments and retirement plans with John.

They talked about options, and then John moved on to the media and mentioned a story he'd seen about the lack of coverage on the new quarterback. People were getting curious, and fans were worrying on social media platforms.

"I've agreed to a big interview with a magazine the team wants me to do after our first win. They wanted to do it during training camp, but I asked them to wait until I had something to discuss. And when I could actually move my arms and legs and have the energy to talk."

John listened as he studied the surrounding beach area. "Still feel this is safe enough?"

"Until the season starts. And with everything in his name, my name isn't on a single piece of mail or delivery. All the credit and debit cards are in his name, the cell phones, all of it. You can't get through the gate here without a code or being on a visitor log, and that's a fee I don't mind paying each month. If there's even a hint of a problem, I'll hire personal security for him."

Justin sighed. "I've had a few neighbors recognize me at the apartment complex, so if anyone leaks, it will keep it closer to the Bay."

"I find myself wondering if we've covered it all," John said, worried.

"Me too, all the time. I feel this constant pressure that if I make one slip…" Justin said, sighing. He stood when Ethan waved him to the shore and pointed down at the sand. "Let's see what he's found."

"Don't touch it," Ethan said, his hand gripping Justin's forearm. "What is it?"

"Sea shit," Justin said and he held in his laughter, trying to be serious.

" So scientific. Gross, right?"

"Yeah, did it move?" Justin asked, and then he reached over and grabbed at Ethan, who yelled, laughed, hit him, and rubbed at his goosebump arms.

"Oh my God, you didn't do that!" Ethan shook his head.

"Now boys, what's the fuss all about?" Bethany asked as she and Missy walked over.

Ethan pointed to the thing on the beach, and Justin was still silently carrying on, holding his sides, as John and Nathan joined them to inspect the blob.

"That's a sea pickle," Nathan said, and then the jokes just kept coming. Justin was in tears, waving them all away from himself, and made a beeline heading back to their umbrella as he tried to catch his breath.

Ethan flopped down on his beach chair and sighed. "That hurt."

"I know," Justin said, "Don't start it up again."

"No, I'm not. My side hurts too bad. And now I don't want to go back in the water because I have a new fear I didn't even know I had—defunct sex toys of the sea."

"Stop."

"Right."

"And don't start with googling and sending me links to sea pickles," Justin said wryly.

"Fun killer."

*

TODAY WAS THE day. Justin's mom and dad had headed home early. Ethan had felt awkward about them possibly coming to support day, and Justin understood that. John and Bethany were nervous but put on happy faces. Bethany drank far too many cups of coffee, and Justin noticed how her hand shook slightly when she put her mug in the sink. Ethan and John were outside, putting together a pool cleaner and trying to figure out how to program it to run automatically. They had clearly run into a few problems along the way, with Ethan reading the directions out loud and John shaking his head.

"He's completed the four-week program," Justin said, standing at the closed glass patio door and observing the shitshow outside. "I'm really proud of him but also nervous about today."

Bethany joined him at the door. "You know, this may sound stupid, but I've often thought of trauma like an octopus. It has these arms that reach out and latch on to everyone who loves the person it happens to, and we all feel the squeeze, but it's almost like a secondary trauma. This feeling, the burden that we couldn't stop it, couldn't save him when he needed us the most…I hate that I couldn't protect him." Bethany sniffed.

"Jesus, woman." Justin put his arm around her.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"We're going to go and be there for him today. But we have to be strong for him. And I don't think it's stupid. I wish I could kill all three of those guys. Prison isn't enough; restitution is a joke. So, we'll do this, no matter how hard it is to watch and remember he's been at this for four weeks now, taking back control of his life. It was his decision, all on his own."

She sniffed again and nodded against his shirt.

"And if it all goes down the shitter today, we'll go buy a punching bag for the garage and take turns."

Bethany stepped back. "He said he wants to do the next class."

"I think he should if that's what he wants. What did John say?"

"He agrees he should continue with all the sessions but wasn't happy about the sticking around and fighting aspect."

"I'd rather him have every skill available and just pray he never needs to use a single one," Justin said. "Looks like they figured out the problem with the pool vac." He faked a smile as Ethan gave a thumbs-up, and Justin gave him a silent applause through the glass door in return. He turned to her. "Game faces, Bethany."

"Game faces," she agreed.

*

JUSTIN PULLED DOWN the brim of his ballcap and put on the COVID mask before walking into Danny's. Inside, Justin handed over his cell phone and keys to the receptionist after John and Bethany had done so. The girl pointed to a small set of bleachers where only a few people sat. They took their seats and could see Ethan, along with several others, seated on the floor in an adjoining room, listening as a man and woman spoke to them.

"That must be Jessie and Danny," Justin said, then lowered his voice and whispered, "That's Markus, next to Ethan."

John nodded, and Bethany remained transfixed on her son. A few more family members joined in on the bleachers, and the receptionist walked over to address them.

"We have some guidelines we'd like to ask you to follow. There is no applause. We ask for silent support. For some of our clients, having you here is a tough ask. It's a big step, and we are proud of their progress. The maneuvers you will see can be upsetting for some support members, and if you feel you need to leave, just come to the front desk, and I'll assist you." She focused on every single person there; her seriousness could not be mistaken.

John glanced at Bethany, and she clenched her jaw and nodded. He turned to Justin, and he nodded too, but the tension was building. It was getting a little hard for Justin to breathe behind the mask he was wearing. John inhaled and blew out a breath. He reached over and took Bethany's hand and then took Justin's. They were united and ready. Justin turned to the other supporters around them, and they appeared just as nervous.

The room to the door opened, and the group filed out, followed by the two instructors. The presentation started with the first female taken to the ground. A man twice her size pinned her down. Using her feet and leg strength, she pushed the man off, rolled, and was on her feet, sprinting to the far wall and touching a small blue circle. The same or a similar pinning tactic was used on each student. When it was Ethan's turn, Justin used his free hand to pull the mask away from his mouth, and John's grip tightened.

Ethan looked so small compared to Danny, who took him down like a ragdoll. But Ethan was quick, breaking an arm hold around his neck, using his body and legs to free himself. When his hand slapped the blue circle, Justin realized how hard he was breathing and tried to get himself under control as John squeezed his hand harder.

The first scenario had to be the worst, Justin told himself.

And as hard as it was to see Ethan go through it, Markus was almost too much to handle. Jessie had him pinned and gave him no easy out, no breaks for being a kid, and Bethany had silent tears. John's eyes glistened, and there was absolutely zero oxygen in this fucking place . Justin watched as Ethan focused so hard on Markus, his fists clenched at his sides as he silently supported his friend.

Markus used the back of his head, a simulated head-butt maneuver no one else had done, then broke the hold, kicked Jessie off him, and scrambled up to race to the wall. Justin felt like a netted fish, sucking for air, and only breathed a little easier when he caught the covert wink Ethan shot Markus and the slight nod Markus returned.

Support . Justin could see it happening. He reminded himself of his own job here as a man behind them silently got up and walked to the desk. The receptionist showed him to a back room, out of sight. Clearly, it was the lose-your-shit room , and Justin hoped like hell he wouldn't have to take a trip there.

The students continued through their rounds, each hold seeming harder than the last, each one painting images in Justin's mind of what had truly happened to Ethan. He felt sick, and it broke his heart each time Ethan worked through and employed the skills he'd learned to keep himself safe. It ripped open the denial Justin had clung to; yes , he knew it had happened, but seeing a near replay like this made it so horribly real.

Justin had to let go of John's hand to get the blood flowing back in his own. His free hand still held the mask away from his mouth so he could breathe, and sweat rolled down his spine beneath his T-shirt to gather dampness there and under his arms from the stress.

Red plastic weapons appeared next, and a middle-aged woman took on a knife coming at her in a robbery scenario. His mother and Bethany needed to do this course, Justin decided. He nudged John with his knee. John nodded a slow, silent agreement and swallowed hard. The woman on the floor could have easily been Missy or Bethany.

When there was a short intermission for the students to have a water break and towel off, Justin followed the support group to a refreshment area. He passed the table of cold drinks and headed straight for the receptionist.

"Where's the room?"

She pointed behind her. "Behind the partition. You have ten minutes."

Justin made a beeline around the partition and went through a door. He sat in a chair, ripped off his mask, and put his head between his knees as he gulped for air. He needed two seconds to lose his shit, and then he could handle it again. His hat hit the floor, and he scrubbed his hands through his hair. He didn't fight the tears. Getting them out was better than holding them in for a second longer.

A cup of water was placed in his hand, and Justin leaned back and downed it. He expected to see the receptionist, but the man who had left earlier sat back down across from him and frowned.

"Thanks," Justin said.

He nodded.

Justin crushed the little cone cup in his hand, wiped his face with his shirt tail, and picked up his hat from the floor. He looped the mask back over his ears and stood. Closing his eyes, Justin found his calm. He gave the man a nod, dropped his cup in the trash, and left the room. The last of the supporters were heading back to the bleachers. Justin fell in behind them and retook his seat. John didn't look at him, and Justin could appreciate that as he pulled his hat brim lower, hoping Ethan wouldn't see his red eyes as he steadied himself for the second half.

*

WHEN IT WAS over, Justin did feel proud of Ethan; he had clearly learned a lot in the four weeks he'd been training. Ethan had to be the bravest person he'd ever known, but the experience had also been far more challenging for Justin than imagined.

Ethan had explained he would come home after the family members had left the gym. So Justin was now home with Bethany and John, who seemed just as shell-shocked as Justin, all of them silent for some time.

"Honey, why don't you go shower and change," Bethany said. "I'm going to start dinner. I'm sure he'll be hungry when he gets home. And I need something to do with myself."

Justin agreed. He reeked like panic, and his shirt was wet. "Give me five, and I'll help." He headed to their bathroom. It had been such a high and low birthday weekend, with one of the best days of his life followed by one of the worst. Justin dried off and changed, then threw his sweaty clothes into the washing machine and started it.

He joined Bethany in the kitchen. John handed him a beer and headed out to the pool deck to sit for a while.

"Mind making the salad?" Bethany asked. She'd already piled everything on the counter for him with a ready knife and cutting board.

"Sure." Justin swallowed down half his beer and got to work.

When the garage door warned them Ethan was home, Justin tapped on the glass patio door, and John came inside, face splotchy but dry. They all seemed to have a silent understanding as Ethan came in.

"Hey," he said and blew out a breath. "Come on." His voice cracked, and he waved them in.

Justin dropped the knife, Bethany left the water running at the sink, and John was a goner as they all embraced one another. Any idea of strength was lost as they cried, and Ethan was the rock.

"I am okay," he said. "I am not weak. And I love you. I know it was hard." And for a long time, they just stood there, falling apart and getting glued back together, as families do. After their moment, Ethan announced he needed to shower and eat.

Justin watched him go down the hallway before returning to the task he'd abandoned. John pulled the large lasagna from the oven for Bethany. She had the bread baking as Justin finished the salad. He took the large bowl to the dining room table. In the pantry, he pulled down two bottles of wine and the ridiculous decanters Ethan had wanted, then had those on the table filled and "breathing," as Ethan called it.

Justin poured two highballs of Scotch, set one down in front of John's plate, and then his own. Ethan joined them, his slightly longer hair damp and curling. Justin liked his longer hair. Ethan took his seat next to Justin at the round table, another of Ethan's decisions, where everyone was equal. Although he very much respected the patriarchy of his own family, it hadn't been what he wanted for their home, that old-school classic head-of-the-table rectangular dining table.

Justin poured Ethan a glass of wine. Bethany began cutting the lasagna, and they passed plates. John passed the salad bowl around.

"Will the next support day be on the twenty-ninth or the fifth?" Justin asked.

"The twenty-ninth, if I decide to take the next session," Ethan said. "I wanted to discuss it with you first."

"If you want to continue, I think you should. I'm not wild about the fighting aspect of it, but at the same time, I recognize you can't predict every situation, so you need the plays," Justin said, tapping the side of his head. "Even if you never use them, you know them."

"I think so too. Dad?"

"Yes, and after seeing that lady and the instructor with the knife…" John glanced at Bethany. "I think you and Missy should take the class this summer."

"Good call," Ethan said, turning to his mom, "Mom?"

"I think you should continue with the sessions, Ethan. I am very proud of you."

"I'm going to move forward with the group, then."

"Good. And Markus?" John asked.

"Oh, yeah, he's going to do them all too."

"Do you want to have a get-together or something for your group?" Justin asked. "I mean, we have this house, the pool, the beach, the grill. We have security."

Ethan paused in raising his wineglass as if considering the logistics of a party.

"You could do a brunch if you didn't want to do an evening thing," Bethany said.

"Markus has school, and several students have daytime jobs. No, I think a weekend afternoon party or a dinner party might be nice." Ethan looked at Justin as another thought seemed to cross his mind.

"I don't have to be here, or I can be. You trust them," Justin said.

"I do," Ethan said. "I'm going to think about it."

*

LATER, ETHAN FLOPPED down onto the bed and poked Justin with his finger.

"What?"

"I know you're upset."

"You think? I could barely breathe, Ethan. I want to support you, but that fucked me up. I want you to know how to protect yourself, and I've been lying here thinking there has to be another way. It's almost revictimizing, you know? Seeing that guy on top of you like that…"

"Murderous," Ethan said quietly. "I know. I saw you."

"Exactly. I was ready to kill someone."

Justin blew out a breath as Ethan scrambled over and plastered himself to Justin—an arm over his chest and his leg over his thighs, squeezing him hard. His head was buried against Justin's neck.

"I love you, Ethan, but fuck."

A hand moved and patted his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine because I'm the one we have to worry about. You know, I could just hire a security person for you."

"I have a bodyguard."

Justin laughed. "Don't make me lose it, I'm all… Hell , I don't know what I am. Pissed off, hurt, sad, selfish."

Ethan shifted over him, still holding on, and Justin slid his arms around Ethan. They adjusted, and Justin threw his leg over Ethan's, wrapping them up.

"I have some errands to run with your dad in the morning, then I want to play catch on the beach with you."

"What errands?" Ethan mumbled, yawning.

"We agreed we're going to buy a taser for the house if you are okay with that? If you're going to be here alone, it's just one more layer of protection. And I'm squashing the little dog idea. I want something that bites."

"Little dogs bite."

"No, I want something that rips off an arm, not an ankle biter, babe."

"You're overreacting because you're upset."

"Yeah, I am, but I don't care."