Chapter Five

Justin

JUSTIN LAY BACK down, his heart thundering in his chest and rage boiling in his veins from what he'd heard and seen of Ethan's nightmare, from the shit taped on his wall for panic attack breathing and PTSD exercises taped to his bathroom mirror, to the panic button on a long cord fastened to his nightstand. The note on the closet mirror reminded Ethan to Take it one day at a time . Justin closed his eyes hard, trying not to rehear Ethan's pleas or the things he'd cried out as he thrashed.

He knew the things in Ethan's room must be part of some recovery plan. But to Justin, they felt like constant reminders. In every direction Ethan turned, there was a sign telling him he was fucked up. Justin knew Ethan was, but something about these methods didn't sit well.

How was a person supposed to ever move forward if they were constantly being told they would never be okay? If you read a sign each day telling you that you were broken, it would become your mantra. And yeah , he'd seen that weekly pill container on the bathroom counter. Each day was stuffed full of pills.

Somehow, Justin found sleep again until Ethan's ringing phone woke him.

*

ETHAN WHISPERED INTO the phone, "Hey, I forgot you guys were coming up. Sure, but I have company. Give us a couple of minutes." Ethan ended his call, and Justin rolled over.

"Your folks?" Justin asked.

"Yeah, they're already outside the building. They usually come by on Sundays. They're a bit overprotective."

"You're good, man." Justin yawned and didn't miss how Ethan averted his eyes as Justin pulled on his shirt and jeans. "I want to meet your dad. Are they close?" he asked just as a knock sounded on the door.

Ethan pulled the door open and let his parents in as Justin stood awkwardly by the bed, nerves ramping up at the quick turn of events.

"Sorry, we usually take Ethan to lunch on Sundays," Ethan's mother said, and Justin tried to smooth down his sleep hair, then shrugged as Ethan introduced her.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Andrews; I'm Justin Halstead." He reached out a hand to her, then turned to Ethan's father. "Coach," Justin said, hoping Ethan heard the respect in his tone.

Ethan's father grinned at the recognition and shook Justin's hand. "Good to meet you, son; hell of a game last night."

"Oh, I see I have some work to do." Ethan's mom indicated the empty snack basket and overflowing trash can. She looked pleased as she took in the game setup and evidence of fun being had.

"Yeah, Justin came over after the game, and we set it all up, finally," Ethan said.

"And we demolished that snack basket of yours, Mrs. Andrews," Justin said.

"Bethany," she corrected.

But Ethan stayed focused on his father, who glanced at the spare bed and the gaming system, the long-overdue Christmas wrapping paper evident in the trash. He looked at Ethan with the beginnings of a question. Justin wasn't sure what Ethan's father saw, but he nodded, and Justin started for the bathroom.

"You're good?" Coach asked Ethan quietly.

"Yes."

"How about Justin coming with us to lunch? Would that be ok, Ethan?"

"Sure," Ethan said. "I'm sure he'd love to talk football with you. I think he's a fan. Would you like to join us, Justin?"

"I'd love to."

When Justin came out of the bathroom, Ethan went in. Justin headed to the guest bed to finish making it up. "Are you guys staying? Want me to change these?"

"No, honey, this is just a day trip for us," Bethany said, glancing at her husband for confirmation and nodding over some unspoken agreement between them.

"Are you sure about lunch? I wouldn't want to intrude," Justin said.

"Oh, I think he'd be happy for you to join us," Ethan's mother said as she tied the knot in the trash bag and put a replacement in the can.

"All right then," Justin said and tucked in his shirt.

Coach Andrews looked at the closed bathroom door and then at Justin. He lifted a brow.

"I think he is doing okay," Justin said very quietly.

Coach nodded. "You won't mind taking my number, then?"

Justin shook his head and accepted the card Coach handed him. Justin nodded his answer to the unspoken question about Ethan's safety, and they both played it cool as Ethan came out.

"Mom," he scolded and took the full bag, "I'll be right back." Ethan sighed and took out the trash.

"So, he's okay?" Bethany asked her husband. "I told you we were worried for nothing. He messaged you and checked in—just like he promised."

Coach blew out a hard breath but pasted on a smile as Ethan returned.

"Where are we going? Justin, did they twist your arm?" Ethan asked.

"No twisting."

"It's going to be all football . I already know it." Ethan put on his coat and hat as his mother winked at him.