He moved away, weaving through the guys, nudges and comments being made that Henrik couldn’t hear. But it wasn’t long before his teammates were heading downstairs, grumbles of morning practice and needing to go filtering loudly over the talk.
Shit. They had his back. Every one of them. Even though they’d obviously been hurt by his secrets.
Real family or not, his teammates wouldn’t let him go down, even if he was trying hard to sink himself.
Appreciation clashed with a huge dose of gratitude and guilt to storm up his throat and burn his eyes. His head dropped forward, so fucking heavy suddenly. He dug his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, damning the rollercoaster ride his emotions were on.
“Hold it together,” Scott urged. “I have no idea what’s wrong, but hold your shit together right now. You have to.”
The stern words weren’t harsh, just true. They were hounded in to every player the second he got onto a professional team. It didn’t matter what happened, who said or did what, they held their shit together until they hit the locker room. Until the media and prying eyes were gone. Until they were with family who understood, didn’t judge and sure as hell didn’t gossip outside the group.
It worked too. Henrik straightened almost immediately, emotions banked behind the firm wall of responsibility. He stared at his guests, most of whom appeared to have started the departure routine. He needed to be the host, thank and assist where needed. It was his damn party, and not a fucking pity party for him.
“Thanks.” He nodded at Walters then Hauke and stepped between them to do his duties. He felt their stares on his back, an unspoken statement that they weren’t done. One or both of them would be on him soon, demanding answers or at least a place to vent.
Friends. He did have those.
And a girlfriend—wherever she was.
“Thanks for coordinating all of this, Mary,” he said to Jacqui’s mother when he reached her, eyes scanning the room for her daughter. “The food was fantastic.”
“It was nothing,” she said, patting his arm. “And much better than that mass-produced stuff a caterer would’ve brought.” Her wrinkled nose of distaste said exactly what she thought of that. “It’s the least we could do after you opened your house to our tribe.” He chuckled with her, mind winding around the word tribe. A perfect description for the extended Polson family. “We’ll get it cleaned up too.”
“No need,” he assured her. “I have a crew coming tomorrow to see to that.”
“Well.” She stiffened, frowning for a second, clearly flustered. “We don’t leave a mess. It doesn’t work like that.”
He couldn’t resist wrapping her in for a quick hug. “Do what you need, but please,” he said, letting her go, her stunned expression shifting to warmth, “don’t stress about it. You’ve already done too much.”
He left her before she objected further, understanding it wasn’t in her makeup to expect caterers and a cleaning crew. Things he’d depended on since his youth. Had he ever cleaned his own place? Nope. Never.
Where’d Jacqui go? He needed her right then. At his side, her silent strength securing him when he was so adrift. Yet she’d caused part of that drifting.
She’s pulling back. Don’t let her. She’s scared.
And how in the fucking hell did he stop her? Reassure her? Prove that he was here for her when he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough for her?
“Henrik,” Jacqui’s father boomed, hand clasping his in a firm hold of belonging. “This was good of you, son.”
Son. When was the last time—if ever—his own father had said that word with such pride behind it? Not when he’d been offered a scholarship to Harvard. Not when he’d been drafted in the second round. Not when he made the Glaciers’ roster. Not...
Just not...ever.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Wayne,” he insisted. “I think we’re past the ‘sir’ stuff.”
For how long? Henrik was accepted right now. Welcomed into the Polson family with barely a hesitation. It was all tenuous though, a thin hold that was slipping through his grasp as he watched, unable to stop it.
“Right.” Henrik nodded. “I should check downstairs.”
People were leaving, goodbyes being said in hugs and waves and promises of calls before Thursday’s dinner. Thanksgiving, another big Polson gathering, based on what he’d heard. Henrik wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that they had an away game that night. He’d be thousands of miles east