The knocking was not going away. I shoved my pillow over my head and threw my arm across the top hoping whoever was out there would take their Girl Scout cookies, save-the-environment, have-you-found-Jesus elsewhere.

It was the jingle of keys and click of the lock sliding that got me out of bed and storming across the room.

Who had keys to my apartment? The owners of the house. Maybe there was an emergency?

I’d made it to the fully-furnished living room before it hit me.

My Dad had asked to keep the spare set of keys in case I developed a desire to own plants that needed watering while I was on the road. I was just now realizing his ulterior motives.

My Dad was sneaky like that.

Before I could do anything more than cross my arms over my bare chest, the door opened and sunlight streamed in, January pale, bringing a puff of cold air.

The chain caught and stopped the door.

“Huh.”

I grinned at my dad’s voice.

“Duncan? Are you awake, son?” He didn’t yell. He knew second-marked had great hearing. “Honey, try his phone again.”

I heard Mom fiddling with her phone. My heart was beating so strong and happy, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I bounded over to the door. “Hey, hey.” I unlatched the chain then threw the door wide. “Hi. Hi, Dad. Why are you here? Hi, Mom. Hey, Ran. Hey, you guys. Come inside. Come in.”

I moved back, but didn’t get far. Mom and Dad rushed me at the same time and folded me up in a hug. They held on tight, not saying anything, just breathing, just holding me.

I closed my eyes and hummed, content like I hadn’t been in weeks.

They were worried. They were angry, and maybe a little afraid. I could feel all of that rolling off them. I could feel their deep, endless, unquestioning love for me too.

That was a lot of pretty strong emotions before coffee.

Random was furious and pale as a sheet. He pressed his lips together and shook his head, his eyes watery.

Why was he on the verge of tears?

“What’s wrong?” I asked, suddenly worried. “Why are you guys here? What happened?”

Mom made a little sobbing sound, then squeezed me hard enough it hurt.

Dad pulled away just enough to press his hand on the back of my neck, keeping me there, safe, so he could stare straight into my eyes, so he could make sure I heard him. Really heard him.

“You always tell us if someone hurts you. Do you understand me? You always reach out to us. You always answer us when we reach out to you. If this ever, ever happens again, in any way, shape, or form, you tell us as quickly as you can.”

Oh. Oh. This was about the video. They had watched it, and had seen me hurting and helpless.

“But we talked on the phone last night,” I said. “You know I’m okay. I’ve been okay. That happened weeks ago.”

“It happened almost two months ago, Duncan,” Mom said. “Almost two. We should have known. You should have told us, baby.”

Uh-oh. When Mom went all soft and started calling me baby, there were gonna be tears galore. I could count on my hand the times she’d broken down and cried about anything, much less anything I’d done.

“Mom, it’s okay.”

“It is not.” There was flint in her tone. “Not okay.”

“Okay, right. It’s not okay. But it’s over. I’m in one piece. I’m still in one piece. I’m still your baby.”

My dad shook the back of my neck like he wanted to strangle me just a little.

Like Mom with the tears, I could count on my hand how many times Dad had ever been angry. Really angry. He just wasn’t made like that. He was always calm. Reasonable.

The video had shaken them hard and now they needed to know I was whole, I was safe. “Let’s sit down. I’ll make coffee. I’ll tell you. All of you. Everything.”

Dad gave me one last long look, then let go, making space so Mom could do the same. She squeezed me then surveyed the room quickly like she had to make sure everything else was where it belonged. “I’ll use your restroom,” she announced, crumpling a tissue in her fist.

Dad held her hand until she had walked too far for them to reach, their fingers dragging to the very tips.

“Is she okay?” I asked Dad.

“She will be. We’ll get through this. We just need to come to a better understanding of what we can handle alone, and what we can handle as a family. Now—” he waved toward the kitchen “—I’ll make some coffee and see if you have anything here for breakfast. If not, I’ll get us some food. Because this is not a conversation for empty stomachs.”

He left for the kitchen and I heard water running and cupboards clicking open and shut.

“I am so pissed at you, releasing that video when you were still here, still where he could hurt you,” my favorite brother-friend said. “I should kick your ass.”

His eyes had that glitter of gold. He was holding onto magic by a thin thread, by spider silk.

I gave him a moment, watched him cautiously as he stood there, fists at his side, eyes blazing. My brother who could break the world with the snap of his fingers.

“Go for the knees,” I suggested. “You’re too short to reach my ass.”

He blinked and opened his mouth. Then he laughed.

And I laughed too.

He rushed and grappled me into a hard, lingering hug.

“I never want to see that again, do you hear me, Duncan?” he whispered furiously in my ear. “I can’t see you like that. Can’t see anyone doing that to you. You gotta look after yourself better than that. You gotta let us look after you better. You can’t be alone. Away from us. Do you understand? You’re the only…the only brother I h-have. I—I c-can’t…”

“I know,” I said stopping him before the panic and stuttering got worse. Before all the memories of his childhood took over his brain.

No one had loved Random when he had needed it the most. Not his father who had died when he was born. Not his mother who abandoned him.

Only us. Only Dad and Mom and me. We were the ropes that kept him tied to this world. We were the tape that patched him up, and showed him what family could be. What love could be.

“I was stupid,” I said, still holding him because every muscle in his body was stiff, and he was breathing too hard.

He was almost in a full panic attack. But I could make this better.

“I need you too, Random. You’re the good angel on my shoulder.”

He coughed at that, sort of a hiccup, sort of a snort. But I knew the words helped. Eventually he pulled back and so did I.

“I’m not,” he said.

“An angel? Sure you are.”

“No, I can’t be. Because devils don’t have angels on their shoulders.”

I smiled. “This devil does. I told you about the vid.”

“Yeah. But when it went viral in seconds, while you were in the middle of a game with him with no one at your side, at your back? Jesus. I about lost my mind.”

“Let’s sit down. Dad’s gonna feed us, and I’m starving.”

He wiped at his face, scrubbing off sweat and a little wetness at the corners of his eyes.

“You even have any food?”

“Nope. Think we’ll get pizza?”

“It’s six o’clock in the morning.” He slumped down onto the corner of the couch dislodging a pillow. “You’re gonna be lucky if we get a dry toast.”

“Well then,” Dad said as he strolled into the living room. “Coffee’s on. I’m going out to get a few things for breakfast. No talking about the big stuff until I get back.”

“No big stuff.” I plopped down next to Random, shoulder to shoulder. “What are we allowed to do while you’re gone?”

“Drink coffee and talk about hockey.” He gave us both a smile, then was out the door.

That didn’t sound like such a bad way to start the day at all.

Luckily, Dad found eggs and sausage and hash browns and threw together a huge bowl of fruit with yogurt on the side. We all drank enough coffee the high emotions were sanded down by the sheer force of caffeine.

I couldn’t stop yawning. Three hours of sleep on the heels of a life-changing night, and now all curled up in the comfort of my family was knocking me out.

“So what are you going to do?” Mom asked. She was snuggled against Dad on the loveseat. His arm draped across the back of it, and he ran his fingers absently through her hair, which she’d left loose instead of in a ponytail.

“I’m not sure. I’m alpha of the team. It needs that. Needs someone to keep all the emotions and actions in sync. It might sound weird, but I feel right being with them. Being a part of the team.”

“You are not playing for Nowak,” Random growled. “Fuck him.”

Mom and Dad hummed their agreement. My family had no sympathy for Nowak and could muster no love for his team.

“I can’t just quit. I came here because I was drafted.”

“No. I was drafted. You threw yourself in front of a bullet aimed at me.”

“And I’d do it again.” My voice was calm. There was a confidence and finality to my words. If he was second-marked he would have bared his throat right then.

Instead he scowled at the coffee table. “I know.”

Okay, maybe he could read alpha language.

Neat.

“We’ll hire a lawyer and get some advice.” My father: the voice of practicality. “I think we will need to talk to Mr. Gosden. Also, we should contact the league and see if they are investigating how widespread this kind of abuse may be. With that information, we’ll decide if we’re going to sue the coach, the owner, the team, or the league.”

“Wow,” I said. “You kind of went all the way there, Dad.”

“It might be the WHHL, but it is not without laws, Duncan. Even if other players don’t step forward you have a very strong case for litigation. We’re not going to let this be swept under the rug. That does no one any good. If there’s going to be good hockey in this league, we need good rules that protect the players upheld.”

“Can’t I just forget all this and play hockey?”

“That’s a good question,” Mom said. “Can you? Forget this and play?”

I closed my eyes again, lids too heavy to bother fighting anymore. It would be a long, hard road if I took legal action against anyone.

No one wanted a litigious player on their team, so I’d probably be out of a job.

But standing down and doing nothing? No. That wasn’t in me. There were other players who had been hurt. They might not be able to stand up and take the hit, but I could. I was strong enough, and I had my entire family at my back.

Plus, I liked the idea of making Nowak squirm.

“Duncan?”

“I’m awake!” I sat up in a rush. “Lawyers, lawsuits, got it, got it. How do we start?”

“I think we start,” Dad said, bemused, “by letting you and Random get some sleep.”

I looked over at my softly snoring brother. He was drooling on one of the fancy pillows.

“You’re a genius, Dad,” I sighed.

And the smile he gave me. “I am aware.”