“Fel?” I ask and he opens his eyes. He just looks… tired. “Want to come home with me tonight?”
His chest expands with a deep breath, then he nods.
“Finish changing and take a shower. Wash all the hockey off you. I’ll wait here.”
Felton moves again as if I just reanimated him. He finishes climbing out of his gear before wandering toward the showers.
While he’s there, I take out my phone and scroll social media.
I look up when Coach asks, “Everything okay?”
Everything seemed really good. I’m not sure what happened. Maybe someone said something. “Felton’s in the shower,” I answer.
Coach sighs. It’s not in frustration or irritation, for which I’m glad because we’d have had to have some words. I can see his concern. “What can I do to support you both right now?”
Shaking my head, I shrug. “I’m not sure what he needs.” That’s not entirely true. I think he’d be in a very different place if he had familial support instead of the shitty parents he’s been dealt.
“No?” Coach asks, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
I smile. “I don’t know how to make what he needs happen,” I amend. “It’s been building for a long time and I think the bullshit with the ReachMe account just snapped and the walls he’d so carefully constructed came tumbling down with that one blow.”
Coach Shively scowls. “I’d love to smack some idiots,” he mutters, then meets my eyes. “You didn’t hear that.”
Shrugging, I say, “Hear what?”
He gives me a nod.
“There’s still no definitive proof linking Felton to the content creator. Except everyone is taking the disappearance of Benny as proof enough.” Coach shakes his head.
“It had to happen.”
“It did,” he agrees. He glances toward the showers when the water stops. “Let me know if there’s anything you need. I’m not sure what I can do, but he doesn’t deserve this.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I say genuinely. I agree, Felton doesn’t deserve this. As Coach Shively leaves, I consider how fortunate we are that we have a coach who cares about the individuals as much as the team.
Felton returns and wordlessly dresses. When he’s back in his suit, he falls into stride beside me and I lead him to my car. I think he has to fold himself to fit inside. Maybe I should consider a bigger car.
The drive to my house is quiet. His hands are constantly moving in his lap, fidgeting nervously. After a few minutes, I rest my hands over his. Felton takes a long, deep inhalation and holds it.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Fel. But I promise, everything is going to work out.”
His gaze shifts toward mine and I nearly wince. I’ve always tried really hard not to say those words to anyone because I can’t guarantee them to be true. Especially things that are out of my control, which is true for basically all of Felton’s life. Somehow, I’m confident when I say them this time. As if I can personally make sure that outcome comes to fruition.
I will make it happen.
Felton nods. For one startling second, I thought I’d said the last words out loud but then I realize that he’s onlyacknowledging what I’d said a moment ago. The errant promise I made.
When we get back to my house, I dig around for some shorts and a shirt that Felton can change into and produce a couple hangers for his suit. I’m not a small guy but Felton is a really big guy, so he looks like a grown ass man wearing child’s clothing when he comes out.
I like the bemused look he gives me as he looks down at his body. “I only truly realize my size difference in moments like these,” he says.
I chuckle. “Have a seat. I have a small meal and some tea warming. Then we’ll head to bed.”
Felton takes a seat, even as I pause. It sounded like I was suggesting we go to bed together. However, Felton doesn’t seem to have interpreted it that way. I’m not sure whether I’m relieved or disappointed. Either way, I sigh.
When the small portions of casserole are heated through, I place one in front of Felton with some sleepy time tea and leave him momentarily to change out of my suit. Then I join him and we eat in silence.
