They didn’t shake me. Not on the outside.
By the time I was done, the locker room was nearly empty, so I was able to take my time in the shower. In front of my stall, I grabbed my phone and saw that Nikos had left me several messages.
Nikos: I know you’re probably still on the ice, but is there any chance Jonah’s at the arena today? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him all day. Peter had a fall. If you see him, tell him to give me a ring, yeah? I’m with him now.
Fucking fuck.
There was something about Peter and Jonah’s relationship that was…I didn’t know how to explain it. Maybe similar to the relationship Nikos and I had with our father. A stoic man who never really understood that it was okay to love your sons. A man who wanted to see us do better—to be better—and died before he got the chance.
But it seemed deeper than that.
I hadn’t known Peter long. Nikos had been dealing with him a lot longer than I had. But the times we did talk, it was obvious he loved his sons. A lot.
I didn’t understand why Jonah was so angry with him.
It only took a few minutes to get dressed, then I did a once-around jog through the halls to see if I could spot Jonah, but there wasn’t a trace of the Legends in the building. They didn’t usually stop by when we had games though. Every now and again, our practices intersected, but the NHL had gone out of its way to accommodate game time for the PPHL.
And I was pretty sure the Legends were on a roadie.
Hopping in my car, I took off in the opposite direction of my house, instead heading to the little apartment where I knew Nikos was sitting with Peter. I parked down the street, then jogged toward the front door, ignoring the ache in my thighs as I knocked and waited.
Nikos seemed unsurprised to see me. “Did you find him?” he asked in Greek, which meant he’d been speaking to our mother recently. He always swapped languages in his head when he did that.
“No. I don’t think they’re in town.”
“Fuck,” he whispered. He backed up to let me in.
“How bad is it?”
“He didn’t need paramedics, but I’m getting worried.” Nikos passed a hand down his face. “I came over here yesterday to check in on him, and Jonah was here, but he didn’t say much to me. Just that he was working on it. I don’t know what that means. It’s so different here, you know?”
And it was. People in the US didn’t take care of their parents the way we did. Not all of them, anyway. And not always.
I was only eighteen when my father died—barely in my rookie year and no real money to show for it yet. But as muchas my relationship with him was complicated, I wouldn’t have hesitated to help him. There would never be two strangers in his apartment.
“Maybe we need to call someone,” I suggested, walking into the living room. Peter was asleep, sitting up in his recliner. He had a bruise under his eye and a cut on his lip.
Nikos groaned, but he nodded. “I think we might have to. I want to speak with Jonah first though. I don’t…I don’t want to make this worse for him.”
“Do you know why they’re like this? His sons?”
Nikos shook his head. “No. But it has to be bad, right? What they went through.”
I couldn’t deny that. It had to be something none of them wanted to relive.
But I also had to admit that whatever they’d gone through, Peter was suffering. He wasn’t himself. He’d never be himself again. And if no one was going to step in and help him, then I would.
Jonah could suck my dick.
And not in the good way.
At least, not that I was willing to admit.
