Chapter Text
Months had passed. It was nearly Thanksgiving, and John's home had never been livelier. Pamela had visited quite often to spend time with Eleanor, help her get the house cleaned up, and overall provide her with a friend whom she could trust and rely on. John hadn't had to walk to hockey since the day he had met Raphael, either. Eleanor cooked more, came to a handful of practices, and even willingly spent time with John. Not that she hadn't wanted to do so before, but she wasn't struggling as much. She seemed genuinely happier, a bit lighter in the eyes than she used to.
Even little John was able to tell the shift in atmosphere, and it simply made him the happiest kid on earth. He was constantly surrounded by all of his favorite people. The only exception was his father simply wasn't around very often at all.
Whenever Pamela would try and initiate a conversation about it with Eleanor, she never got much into it. She'd get this disgusted look on her face and make some snarky comment about her crummy, 'chickenshit' excuse for a husband. Pamela didn't really understand why they were still together, but something inside her had a feeling it was a 'take, take, take' sort of relationship.
"I gotta place t'live, the money for Jack, and I ain't gotta deal with him most of the time. Sometimes, he comes home, says his fair share 'bout dinner or whatnot. We have sex." She shrugged, leaning forward onto her elbows, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth.
"What does he get out of it?" Pamela asked carefully, head tilted curiously.
"My marriage was doomed from the very start," Eleanor said slowly. She took a drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke to the side, watching as it tainted the crisp, Autumn air. "It was a business deal of sorts. My family was livin' in high cotton, and the company could only go up from where it was. His father, who owned a good amount of economy, was a business associate to mine. They were the best of friends, a'right. One thing led to another, we were forced to meet, an' then wed to grow the company. Turned out, his father was sick an' dyin', and he wasn't gonna tell no one until his son had secured a spot in the business."
Pamela thought for a long time. Henry couldn't divorce Eleanor, likely because it would wreck the relationship he had with her father's business. "Where's your dad now?" she asked.
"Pro'ly off gettin' drunk and gamblin' with my husband, believe it or not," Eleanor flicked the remaining ash off her cigarette and dropped it into the ash tray. "I see that look on your face, don't pity me. Whether I was here or not wouldn't make no difference in Henry's success. He stays for Jack, and I stay for Jack. Simple as that."
"I feel like I may have had you all wrong in the very beginning," Pamela admitted, leaning back into the wicker porch chair. "I can see you care about Jack. I really do."
"I do," Eleanor said half-heartedly, gazing off. "He's a good kid."
"Yeah, he is," Pamela nodded. She sighed quietly, "well, I oughta head out, then. I need to run a few more errands before I head home." She got to her feet. "You've got to take your little man to practice, after all."
Eleanor tilted her head back. "Yeah. See you tomorrow?"
"Sure," Pamela nodded softly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ellie."
"Mama! Look!" John exclaimed, pulling on Eleanor's arm as they made their way into the rink. "That's my coach!"
"I see," Eleanor hummed, eyes trained on Hunter. She had sort of gotten to know him over the past month. She hadn't made it to too many practices, but she'd hang around and talk to him afterwards while John ran about, yapping about one thing or the other. She hated to admit that maybe she kind of liked the man. It made coming to practice much more bearable knowing she'd get to have a pleasant conversation with him.
"Eleanor," Hunter greeted with a wide grin. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever." He walked over to meet the two. "And Jack, as energetic as always," he dropped to one knee in front of the little boy, opening his arms to him.
"Hi, coach!" John said, smiling ear to ear. He hugged Hunter with little hesitation. embracing him as tightly as he could and nearly knocking him over.
Hunter lifted him into his arms, holding him closely. He moved John to his hip, making sure not to feed him too much attention by addressing his mother. "So, how are you doing?"
"I'm doin' just fine," Eleanor replied, brushing some of her pin straight hair behind her ear. "Jack talks about this crap non-stop, I don't know how you deal with his rambling all the time." She laughed a little.
"Well, I don't live with the little rascal like you do," Hunter joked. He placed his free hand under John's thigh to keep him held up on his hip. "He's a wonder to have, though, always ready to play, huh, Jack?"
"Mama," John began with wide eyes, "I shot a goal last practice, and I wanna do it again to show you. Coach Hunter, do you think I can today? Please?"
"Of course," Hunter chuckled. He finally lowered John to the ground, onto his clumsy feet. "Now go get ready, take your bag from your mom. Gotta help her out."
"Yes, coach!" John quickly took his semi-heavy equipment bag and his hockey stick from Eleanor, then quickly ran off towards the locker rooms to get dressed.
"Please, tire him out for me," Eleanor rubbed her face. "I swear that kid never has any sort of chill, he's always go, go, go." She gestured her hand out in front of her.
"Ah, don't worry," Hunter shook his head. "We're gonna get him straight and disciplined by the end of the season, he'll be a totally different kid."
"Good luck with that," Eleanor shook her head. "I'mma head to the store. I'll be back 15 minutes before the end of practice to see his goal or whatever." She shrugged. "Bye, Hunter."
"Bye, Eleanor," Hunter hummed, waving his fingers at her as she turned and left. Then he headed to the kids' locker rooms to hurry them up and get them on the ice.
"I remember distinctly the day everything changed. The day that I my life had turned for the worse and slipped into a never-ending landslide. I had been enrolled on my junior hockey team for maybe three months, and my mom failed to show face. It was me and my coach.
Alone.
Waiting for my mom to pick up the phone. He had rung her about three times, hadn't even bothered to try Pamela. And I was sat on his lap in his office, drawing a picture on a blank sheet of paper, unaware of how quickly I could go from an innocent child to knowing far too much about the real world."
"When's mama gonna be here?" John asked, whining a little as he slumped backwards into Hunter's chest, pen clutched tightly in his hand.
"I'm sure she'll be here soon," Hunter said, the leg John wasn't sat on, bouncing up and down almost anxiously. His hand was on John's hip, and the kid had no thoughts about it. He didn't question the way his coach held him close, or the way his thumb hung on the hem of his shorts, or even the bulge that pressed unnaturally into his leg.
Hunter finally just stood up, picking John up with him. "Why don't you come help me pick up a little while we wait?" he said, his voice was almost strained. It was a bit unsettling to John, but again, he didn't think twice about it.
Hunter had brought him to one of the exam rooms. John didn't notice him lock the door.
"I really didn't mean to do this so soon, Jack," Hunter had said.
Something in his voice had changed. It was sort of scary, and John's entire body tensed as Hunter placed him onto the exam table and slowly pushed him down onto his back by placing his hand largely over his chest. "Your ma's been complaining a lot about your behavior, and I don't think hockey's really helping calm you down enough for her. She's exhausted with you, Jackie."
John stared and stared at Hunter, confused and lost. "Coach?" he asked quietly.
"Shhh," Hunter coaxed, "it won't be so bad, I promise. I just need to get you ready, that's all." He climbed onto the table behind him, and he pulled him halfway laying into his lap, legs on either side of John.
This was becoming frightening, so John finally began to sit up. "What are you doing?" he began to ask, only to have Hunter clamp his hand over his mouth and push him back down. John's memory had gone foggy from there. All he knew was that he was being pinned down and something was wrong. It all felt so wrong. It hurt, and he couldn't fight it, he wasn't strong enough.
"It all had happened so fast, and I had no idea what was going on, what he was doing to me, or why. I don't really remember much either, just that my shorts were off, and I was being violated by a grown man's hand. I couldn't fight him, and I couldn't cry for help either. My entire world was turned upside down that day, and it didn't get better. Not for a long, long time. The crazy thing, too, was that it wasn't the worst thing he ever did to me."
"He's completely exhausted," Eleanor said, surprisingly, eyes a little wide at how close John was clinging to her in her arms. "I'm really sorry about how late I was, really." She attempted to adjust him slightly, but he simply held on, not budging, face buried in her shoulder. "I wasn't totally serious about tiring him out, but thanks, he'll definitely go down without a fight tonight."
"No problem," Hunter hummed, arms crossed as he stared straight at the back of John's head. "I didn't mind watching him. I did some extra drills with him, got him skating all over the ice. Ain't that right, Jack?" He stepped closer to meet eyes with the kid.
"Mm-mm..." John gripped his mom's shirt, burying himself further in her shoulder if possible. "I wanna go home, mama," he whined to her.
Eleanor rubbed his back. "Ah, don't worry, Jack, we'll get ya home and straight to bed." She looked up again at Hunter. "Thank you, again, I genuinely just fell asleep in my car, I swear I didn't mean to leave him, um..." She looked around, then back at him. "I've been meaning t'ask you something, and if it's completely unprofessional, I get it, but..." she shifted her weight. "Any chance maybe we could...I dunno..."
"Sure." Hunter shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling coyly. "How about next Friday evening?"
"Wait, you're serious?" Eleanor raised her eyebrow. "Just like that? I mean, I'm flattered, but-"
"You're a beautiful woman, Eleanor," Hunter said with a small laugh, "I'd love to take you out."
"I mean..." Eleanor bit down on her lip, looking anywhere but at his eyes. "Okay," she finally said with a shy smile. "Call me then?"
"Sure thing," Hunter nodded. "It was nice seeing you again, Eleanor." He looked again at John. "I'll see you next practice, champ." He waved.
Eleanor slowly adjusted John, who had loosened slightly, making him sit up. "Say bye to coach, Jack, thank him for watching you."
John looked at coach, his hand tangled up in his blonde curls, twisting and pulling at them. "Bye, coach..." he said in a mumble. He fought the tears that prickled his eyes, his little head spinning around all the reasons why he couldn't tell. Why he had to be good. Why this was the only way to stay in hockey. He couldn't give up hockey; he loved it too much. It was his dream. And neither did he want to make his mother angry, because as long as John did as coach asked, she would be happy.
"As a little kid, I couldn't really wrap my head around the idea of not playing hockey. And when the only person I knew to facilitate my training and participation told me I wouldn't be able to play if I didn't keep all his secrets to myself, I took it to heart. I stayed quiet. By the time I came to the idea of actually telling someone, I was too deep in all of it to crawl out by myself. I had no one to lean on. No one to listen. No one to really, truly help me."
'Well, what about Pamela? Raphael? Where were they? You said Raphael had his suspicions.'
"I fucked that up, too. Somehow, someway, I always seem to fuck it all up."