Chapter Six

Ethan

ETHAN GROANED FROM the backseat of his dad's Yukon. "So yeah, Justin got the game system set up, and we played the rest of the night. We're also going to play online."

"You have all the parts and pieces you need?" Bethany asked.

"I need a few other games, but yes, right?" Ethan asked Justin.

"Yeah, you're good."

"So, Justin, finishing college or heading for the draft after next year?" Coach asked as he drove.

"Here we go," Ethan lamented, and Justin grinned.

The barbeque place was the perfect choice as they all settled in and ordered heaps of food. And Ethan turned to his mom as the two across from them carried on about all that was, is, and ever could be…football.

"Your classes are going okay?" she asked quietly.

Ethan nodded as he chewed. He tilted his head at Justin and wiped his mouth. "We have geology and the lab together. We passed the quiz after studying together."

"And your weekly thing?"

Ethan was glad she didn't press over his therapy appointments in front of Justin. "It's going well." He glanced at Justin, who had looked at him directly three times now over lunch. And, well, wasn't that an improvement. He also seemed…calmer.

"Good," she chirped and then changed the subject. "So, more gaming snacks, and do you have enough winter clothes? I fear it's going to be a bad one."

"I'm good, maybe another hat," he said just to give her something to mom him over.

She brightened and had a mission. "I'll make sure you get that."

"Eat, Mom," Ethan finally said, pointing at her to quit worrying over him.

"My mom does the same thing to me," Justin said between bites. "I have more underwear and socks than I'll wear in a lifetime. I still haven't done laundry from the haul after the break. New socks every day."

They all laughed, and his father seemed as if he understood exactly.

"We can't help it," Bethany shamelessly admitted, as moms did.

And the talk went back, thankfully, to football. Justin asked about Ethan's father's time in the NFL, retirement after an injury, and transition into coaching. Ethan gathered from their conversation that Justin's plan was to teach English like his mother and coach when his football career came to an end. Ethan silently reeled. It was all so normal . It was strange, even a little uncomfortable.

Ethan wasn't sure how to process what was happening. But after lunch, they dropped Justin off in the parking lot at his dorm, and he thanked them for the meal and gave a cheerful wave as they drove off. That was it. And Ethan watched through the window as his dad drove off, and Justin jogged up to the back door of the football dorm.

"Spill it," Bethany demanded and then giggled as if she'd been holding it in and could finally let it go now that they were alone.

"We gamed all night. He was sore from his game, and I offered for him to just crash. That's all, except we ate way too much junk food. I gave him three aspirins, and we stayed up entirely too late."

"He did take some bad hits in that game," his father said.

"Yeah, and when he stood up to leave, I could see he was in bad shape. I just said, there you go. That's all, Mom. I think he wants to be my friend. I knew him before, you know, from freshman comp class last year."

"He knows," his dad said more than asked.

" Everyone knows, and then he was there when I had a nightmare," Ethan admitted. "He woke me up, checked on me, and went back to sleep."

His mother turned in her seat to look at him.

"I'm fine. He woke me up, and he had his hands up like this." Ethan held his hands up how Justin had. "I mean, it was obvious he was sensitive to not touching me during a nightmare. And he was saying, ‘I'm not a threat, and you're okay.' Stuff like that. I think you can relax, Mom."

His father nodded. "I agree." He looked at his wife. "Bethany."

She turned around and then began on the forced topics of the game store and supermarket trip they were now taking to restock Ethan's tiny kitchen.

After the supermarket, they dropped his mother off with her grocery bags at his dorm, and Ethan and his dad headed to the game store together.

"You had fun at the game, then?"

"Yeah, rub it in," Ethan offered. "He reserved that seat for me for the rest of the season. Don't tell Mom, but I'm not sure what to think about that. It's a mistake, right?"

His dad chewed on his lip.

"Stop worrying," Ethan said. "I don't think Justin has any bad intentions. We hit it off in class discussions and group work, and then he left his phone in the library, which connected us again. He's a good guy, a good person. I've never heard anything bad about him, and honestly, I'd really like to be friends with him. I just don't know what to think about the ticket thing. The rest feels normal."

"All right." His dad blew out a breath. "I'm worse than your mother, aren't I?"

"Nope, you're still good there."

They stopped and parked outside of the store. "All season?"

"Seems like."

Again, with the eyebrow. "Players on his level get a certain number of comp tickets to give away. For parents, visitors, and friends. Did you sit next to anyone he's associated with?"

"I don't think so. The guy on my left, I think, was a player's parent; he wore a jersey with a different number. And the girl on the other side of me looked like someone's little sister, then what seemed like a mom and a dad after that. That mom was wearing a shirt that said ‘My son is number 33.' So those weren't Justin's parents."

Ethan remembered something else. "And they have this app. I logged into it and had to set up a profile, and the tickets are there for the season. My name is assigned to them. So, could that be a clerical error?"

His father gave him a look.

"Fine, but why would he do that?"

Ethan pointed at his father's face before the brow could lift again.

"I'm not sure what I should say here, Ethan. Part of me wonders if there's something more you aren't telling me. The other part of me knows a player like him wouldn't give those away without a reason. I saw where you sat."

"And see, that ," Ethan agreed, pointing at his father again. "I'm right there, like, right next to the field."

His father thought for a moment. "That isn't a discreet move."

"Right? I was sitting with families and—" Ethan cringed. "—girlfriends."

"Oh boy."

"See my point? What the fuck, Dad?"

"Ethan."

"What the hell."

"What did he say about the season tickets?"

Now Ethan gave his father a look since his father had just given him one.

"Then ask him."

"Yeah, right," Ethan said and rolled his eyes.

"Do you not want to know why he did it?" his father asked, almost knowingly, and then continued before Ethan could answer. "Or…you're afraid to know. You like him."

"He's straight, Dad."

They went quiet momentarily, then got out of the truck and stood outside the store as several students passed them.

His dad hummed for a moment. "Is he?" He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "He seemed…well…" He sighed. "…attentive at lunch."

"Attentive."

"When you spoke, he stopped our conversation to listen to you and look at you." His father let that observation hang in the air for far too long.

"Dad."

His father just shrugged and reached for the game store door.

Three new games later, Ethan thanked his father as they left. Back in the car, they headed to Ethan's dorm.

"One more, and I swear." His dad started right where they'd left off outside the store, but Ethan already knew what he wanted to know.

"I don't get that impression, but fine, you saw the same thing I did," Ethan answered.

His dad nodded.

"Even if that was something I was willing to consider—which I haven't at all until possibly this very moment with us talking about it—I'd want to talk to my counselor first," Ethan said. "But I don't see that happening anytime soon. That's the last thing on my mind."

His father nodded again, remaining silent and letting Ethan talk.

"Fine. Let's say I was interested in someone. I'd hope it would be someone like him. Someone nice, somebody who doesn't want to know all the gory details and seems to respect I have trauma. I mean, when things come up, he just doesn't make a big deal about it like everyone else. He snapped me out of a flashback like it was just something normal to do. He even threatened to kick my ass when we gamed, and he didn't even flinch. It was just so…"

Ethan paused for several long minutes. "God, I hate this word, but…normal, you know?"

His father remained silent.

"I don't know," Ethan said with a groan, noticing how much slower his father was driving, and then he smiled a little. "Ugh, fine. He's hot. I'm not gonna lie. But I don't get the vibe from him that he's even curious. So it's gotta be a friend thing, all right, and I think I need that more than anything else right now. Okay, that's all of it. Jesus, you should have been some super-secret interrogator with the government." Ethan blew out a long breath and turned to his dad expectantly.

"I think friendship is what you need, and you know we support you if it were something more."

"I know. Thanks, Dad. If I'm lucky in anything, it's you guys," Ethan said as they pulled into the parking lot.

*

AFTER HIS PARENTS left, after all his mom's fretting and refilling, Ethan stood in his kitchenette at his refrigerator door and stared at the beer now residing there. This was something new, along with an unopened bottle of Aleve in his bathroom. Ethan sighed, tracking right along with his mother's thoughts and knowing who the intended drinks and pain relief were hopefully for. He glanced at the clock; it was only four in the afternoon. Nope , subtlety was not one of his mother's strengths.

He got the hint.

"Fuck it," Ethan announced and grabbed a beer. He could drink one and not worry about his medication. He cracked it, sat down on his couch, and fired up the game console to see if Justin was online.

"What are we doing, Justin Fucking Halstead? I really want to know," Ethan said to the television screen as his eyes scanned and found the character and screenname he'd memorized.

An instant message appeared: Look who decided to join in.

Ethan took a drink of his beer, frowned, but downed another shot to get used to the taste. He typed back: My mother decided my refrigerator needed to house beer now.

Is that an invitation?

It's already cold.

Ethan felt oddly pleased as Justin's screen name vanished from the list of online players. Ethan wasn't shocked by how quickly there was a knock at his door. And before he knew it, Justin had ordered pizza delivery, was on his third beer, and had his shirt off with an icepack he'd made in Ethan's kitchen taped to his side. Ethan side-eyed as they gamed and, between his numerous deaths, took in the multitude of bruises on Justin's body and their varying stages of colors.

Justin glanced over when Ethan failed to rejoin the next game. "What?"

"The bruises," Ethan said.

Justin shrugged. "It's part of it." But his eyes stayed fixed on Ethan's for longer than they ever had.

"What?" Ethan asked.

"Nothing." Justin directed his attention back to the game. "You're up."

Ethan played. He played and turned off his mind until Justin yawned, and a row of bottles lined his coffee table.

"All right, I'm calling it," Ethan said. "We both have class in the morning."

Justin leaned back, his melted icepack long gone, but somehow, his shirt had never made it back on. Ethan glanced over but then averted his eyes.

"Why did you give me season tickets?"

"Superstition," Justin answered instantly.

"What?"

"We won, didn't we? So now you have to come to all the games. So I'll win."

Ethan didn't respond since he sensed some bullshit in the answer. Those season tickets were arranged before Justin's team had won.

"You'll be there, at least for the home games," Justin said more than asked.

"Sure."

Justin looked sleepy and pleased. "Good. Then it's going to be a winning season." He tried to speak through his next yawn.

"Oh, so I'm like a good luck charm?"

Justin just pointed a finger at him as if that was an answer.

Ethan stood, headed for the bathroom. He said nothing about Justin, next to him, brushing his teeth at the same time, or how they easily alternated at the sink.

It's weird, right? The thought kept running through Ethan's mind. Maybe he acts like this with everyone? Ethan frowned at his own reflection at that thought.

"What?" Justin asked as he dried his hands.

"So, are we, like, gaming friends now?"

"Yeah, friends." Justin began to twirl the hand towel between his hands.

"No, I know what that is," Ethan tried to say but yelped as Justin expertly snapped him with the twined towel, laughed, tossed it on the counter, and headed to the bed he'd slept in before.

"Fucker," Ethan said as he shut off the light and rubbed at the welt on his arm.

Justin just laughed again. "You ask too many questions, Ethan."

Or you don't want to answer them . And that was the last thought Ethan had before his alarm for class went off, and he couldn't recall struggling to get to sleep for a change.

*

TWO WEEKS LATER , Ethan smiled as he entered his geology class and saw that Justin had swapped places with his usual seatmate.

"Thank God," Ethan whispered as he unzipped his bag and retrieved his books.

"I figured. You're welcome."

"Yeah, thanks. You ready for this?"

Justin indicated he was. They'd studied together for this test and had hung out regularly in Ethan's room. When they weren't together during Justin's downtime, they played each other online or sent text messages of stupid shit back and forth. Ethan had gone to one more game, with the other being an away game.

Ethan now smiled to himself over bitching about his seatmate to Justin—a girl who was always playing with her hair, texting under the table, and then having the audacity to ask for his notes. He didn't know what Justin had said to her to get her to move, but he was grateful. Seventy minutes later, they left their geology class, unit exam over.

"I feel good about it," Justin said as they walked together.

"Yeah, same," Ethan agreed as Shawn joined them.

"Hey, Ethan," Shawn said. "What are you two doing?"

"Heading to the dining hall; want to join?" Justin asked.

"Yeah," Shawn said, and that was how Ethan found himself sitting next to Justin, squeezed into a big round booth with four football players who ate like they were consuming the food supply of a small nation.

"Jesus, I bet your moms were glad when you left for college," Ethan said jokingly, and they all nodded.

"Man, my mom used to threaten to buy a minivan just to go grocery shopping for me and my brothers," Cliff, one of the guys, said. "I have four brothers."

Ethan acknowledged that idea. "A food van."

Justin laughed, and Shawn did too.

Justin nudged Ethan's plate with an unfinished grilled chicken sandwich and fruit cup closer to him. "Eat up if you want to hang with this crowd."

"Are you working out with us later, Ethan?" Shawn asked.

"Oh, I don't think—" he started, but Justin was already saying Yes, he was . And Ethan picked up his sandwich and ate the rest. Apparently, he was going to work out with the Goliaths of the university because that was something he usually did. With his plate finally empty, they all worked themselves out of the big booth, put up their trays, and headed to the gym.

Justin leaned in alongside Ethan. "Don't worry. They'll be cool."

"When does cross country start back up?" Shawn asked once they were in the weight room.

"We're already training. Our first meet is next month," Ethan answered as Justin adjusted the weight setting on the pull-down bar.

And that was how it went as they all clanged metal and sweated through a late afternoon workout.

"You coming to the game Saturday?" Cliff asked Ethan as they all grabbed their gear and headed for the locker room.

"Yeah, I'll be there," Ethan said, wiping his face. He grabbed his stuff, then tilted his head to the door as he turned to Justin. "I'm going to shower at home."

"Yeah, I'll catch up with you later." And Justin headed into the locker room with his teammates.

Ethan lagged as he walked home. He tried to stay active, in good shape, and worked out with his cross-country team, but he wasn't a "hit the heavy weights" guy. Of course, maybe if he had been— before —he could have better defended himself last year. Ethan tried hard not to constantly think about shoulda, coulda, woulda's , as his dad liked to call them. It happened; it was horrible, and he was taking one step at a time on the path to healing.

He saw his therapist regularly, employed the exercises he needed to get through the more challenging times, and took medication, which seemed to be helping. Over the last few weeks, though, the bright spot in his life wasn't speaking with his therapist, where he could let his fa?ade fall away. No, it was spending time with Justin.

Ethan shook his head as he walked. They were so different, such unlikely friends. And even Justin's friends impressed Ethan, or at least the group he typically hung out with. Ethan thought they were all part of the offensive group, line, or whatever it was called. Still, he'd caught a few looks exchanged at lunch and in the weight room. Justin tended to hover—not really hover, but he kept close—and he didn't seem to notice when he did subtle things like pushing Ethan's plate closer or handing him a towel. Justin didn't notice it, but Ethan and Justin's friends did.

That was the thing, though; Ethan had seen Justin hand Shawn an extra water bottle he'd brought for his roommate. He was just like that, thoughtful. That voice in Ethan's head pointed out the obvious: then why isn't he spending all his spare time with Shawn? Sometimes, Ethan hated that little voice. But honestly, if he were frank with himself, voice be damned, he liked Justin.

And that was the problem.