Chapter 122: The Thing He Couldn't Protect
Jack didn’t go back. Not to the dorm, not anywhere that felt normal.
He lingered outside the library, phone clenched tight in his fist.
Luca’s voice was a distant echo behind him, carrying through the cold, but Jack barely heard it.
I have to go.
He hated how those words sounded flat and final, like a door slamming. Too late to take them back, though. He kept walking.
His dad had called him home. Jack didn’t dare make him wait.
He crossed campus by himself. It was already getting dark. Thick gray clouds crowded the sky.
His shoes hit the pavement, each step harder than it needed to be as if he was mad at the ground. Or maybe mad at himself.
The cold crept in and stung any bit of skin left uncovered.
Somewhere, voices from the dining hall drifted out and were gone before he could catch the words.
An empty bag bounced across the path, rattled by the wind, and snagged on a bench.
His phone buzzed loud in the silence. Unknown number. Just the same missed call staring up at him, like it was waiting for an answer.
He shoved the phone deep into his pocket and pushed on, head down against the wind.
Halfway across the courtyard he heard his name.
“Jack.”
He stopped and turned. Sam was near the rink entrance bag slung over one shoulder, hair still wet from the showers.
The lights above made everything look yellow and tired.
“You’re leaving?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah.”
Sam gave him a look. Nobody could call it friendly or mean, just steady. “Everything okay?”
Jack almost laughed a sharp, hollow little sound. He swallowed it and stuck with the line he’d used all week. “I’m fine.”
Sam didn’t buy it. He sighed, breath showing in the cold. “You’ve been saying that a lot.”
“I know.”
“You don’t look fine.”
Jack stared off, past Sam, toward the sidewalk disappearing into the dark. “Just gotta go home for a bit.”
Sam hesitated, shrugged. “Okay.”
Jack took a few steps off. Then Sam called him back.
“Jack—”
He waited.
Sam fiddled with his bag strap, voice low. “Jay and Noah are okay.”
Jack felt something squeeze tight in his chest. The cold suddenly more than just weather.
Sam went on, quiet. “Not really okay. But they’re together. They’re managing.”
Jack nodded. “Good.”
“You sure you’re good?”
He pulled up the best smile he could it barely registered. “See you tomorrow.”
Jack left before Sam threw more questions at him.
He changed course before he left campus. He couldn’t just go home, not without knowing what was happening to Jay and Noah.
The academic building was nearly empty now. Upstairs, lights were already out.
Jack’s steps echoed down the empty hallway as he headed for Coach’s office. He knocked once maybe harder than he meant to.
“Come in.”
Jack slipped inside. Coach looked up from his laptop, the desk lamp bright on a mess of papers. His eyes flickered with recognition.
“Carter.”
Jack closed the door behind him. The room smelled like coffee and old books. He got right to it. “Can I ask you something?”
Coach leaned back, the chair groaning under him. “That’s usually why people come in.”
Jack didn’t even try to smile. “What’s going to happen to Jay and Noah?”
Coach shut his laptop. His face turned serious. “I don’t know yet.”
“They’re getting kicked off the team?”
“That’s possible.”
Jack’s hands curled at his sides. “Just because they’re together?”
“Because they went against team policy.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “That’s basically the same thing.”
Coach paused. He studied Jack for a moment, thinking.
“You’re angry.”
“I am.”
“You should be.” Coach kept his tone even. “But being angry won’t fix things.”
Jack looked down at the floor, noticed the threadbare patch in the carpet right by the desk. “Are they going to lose everything?”
“I told you I don’t know.”
“You said the board was reviewing it.”
“They are.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Jack’s fingers dug into his palms. “Can you stop them?”
Coach let out a breath and stood up, walking to the window where campus lights flickered on against the dark. He rested his hand on the sill.
“I can stand up for them. I’ve told the board what kind of guys they are. That they haven’t caused problems, that their performance hasn’t slipped, and they’ve been honest about everything once the truth came out.”
Jack met his eyes. “But?”
Coach just looked back steady, tired. “But I don’t run the board. I never have.”
The office got quiet. The clock ticked. The heating system rumbled softly.
Jack’s voice was barely there. “My father does.”
Coach went dead still.
For a moment, neither of them moved or spoke. Everything felt heavy, stuck on the edge of something.
Coach’s voice was quiet this time. “Is all this connected to what happened to you?”
Jack stared at the dark window. “Maybe.”
Coach let it go. He didn’t push just crossed his arms, watching Jack.
“You know what I’ve seen after all these years? Players want to protect the team so much, they forget they’re allowed to protect themselves too.”
Jack felt his throat tighten up. He stayed silent.
Coach’s tone softened. “Whatever’s happening outside this rink, don’t let someone else decide your whole life. You’re allowed to want something different.”
That thought followed Jack out into the dark. The cold felt sharper now. He zipped up his jacket and kept moving.
By the time he reached the dorm, the sun was gone. Streetlights threw stretched shadows across the walkway.
The hall inside was quiet, just a hint of music behind some door. Jack stopped at his own door. His hand rested on the knob, the metal biting cold.
He thought about opening it. About going in.
Luca would be in there probably on his bed, book open but just for show. Maybe mad, maybe waiting. Maybe pretending not to wait.
Jack closed his eyes. He almost heard the little shifting noises Luca made when he was pretending not to be worried.
He stepped back.
He couldn’t do it. Not tonight.
He left the dorm without looking back. The night air stung. He made his way to the parking lot, slid into the waiting car, and said nothing to the driver.
The seats were ice cold. The city lights streaked past outside the windows. Halfway home, rain started falling at first just a few taps, then steady lines.
Jack watched them blur down the glass. His reflection looked strange and older than he remembered.