Harrison gripped his beer bottle and said, “Drop it.”
“Did you kill him?”
“Arlo…”
Arlo shoved a handful of fries in his mouth. “I won’t tell anyone you did it if you show me the body.”
Harrison narrowed his eyes, both impressed and annoyed that Arlo was pushing this hard. “Did something happen in your childhood that fucked you up? You don’t know when to quit.”
“Yeah,” said Arlo, and Harrison already knew where this was going. “It’s called a healthy dose of disownment for being gay.”
“Low blow, shit head.”
Arlo placed his empty plate on the coffee table hard enough to rattle the wood and grabbed his beer bottle, emptying it in one go.
Harrison watched his cousin’s dramatics with one brow raised, waiting with held breath for Arlo to get to the point.
When Arlo smacked the bottle next to his plate, he put on hisbig madface and turned on Harrison.
“Can youpleasetalk to me about this?”
Harrison bit back a comment about them being men and not needing to talk, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Arlo’s pissy attitude tonight. It had been a long enough day.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Harrison admitted.
All at once, Arlo deflated. “I don’t know. I thought you wouldn’t care that Fraser was there because you always seem so stoic. I know you guys never went to school together or played on the same team, but maybe meeting him would…I don’t know? Maybe make you want to come back or something?”
“You know I can’t play anymore,” said Harrison.
Arlo shrugged. “There are more things to hockey than playing hockey. Most of them you don’t need a good leg for.”
“Iwasthat leg,” Harrison said through gritted teeth. Fuck, he didn’t want to do this. “And IwasJett Fraser.”
Arlo jerked back as if he’d been smacked. Harrison could see him piecing all the information together, the outcome slowly dawning on him.
“Shit.” Arlo rubbed his face with his hands roughly and brushed his fingers through his black hair.
This is why Harrison had a soft spot for him. That look of guilt as Arlo sheepishly smiled at him was all Killinger. They were similar in so many ways, from their looks to their interest in hockey and their outcast status. It was the only reason why Harrison let him in so easily, and always forgave him when Arlo tried to drag him back to the rink constantly and started fights.
Arlo wasn’t Luca, not even close, but they were still brothers in a different way. Arlo wanted to help him, and Harrison understood that much, even if his meddling drove him crazy.
“At the risk of pissing you off a record-breaking number of times today.”
Jesus.
“You didn’t actually kill Jett Fraser, did you?”
Harrison sighed. “No. I left him at a gas station on an exit near Hansport and took off. He’sfine.”
“Yes, he is,” said Arlo in a tone far from innocent, but one look from Harrison set him back on track. “Wait, you left him there?”
“Don’t you have a hockey game tomorrow?” Harrison countered. “And an apartment you call home?”
“Ugh, I hate how right you are.” Arlo gathered his plate and empty bottle, waiting for Harrison to hand him his. “I’ll do the dishes and then take off. I mostly wanted to check if you were okay after seeing how pissed you were today.”
Harrison shot to his feet, too fast and too close for Arlo to avoid him. Beer bottles and plates hit the floor in a crash—one of the plates shattered, and a fork was sent skittering under the couch.
“You can’t.”
