Chapter 12

12

Joey

Everything is falling apart.

I was the only one at tonight’s game that didn’t have my shit together. Oiler, Johnson, and Albrooke were on fire. Willis and Carmichael were a force to be reckoned with. Our goalie, Chris Austin, was killing it. Then there was me. Tripping over my own fucking skates, missing passes, passing to the wrong fucking team. I’m a joke.

The bite of cold cools my heated skin as I watch my teammate get carted off the ice. Carmichael is a tough bastard, so if he needed help up, he’s hurt bad. Fuck.

The crowd stands and claps in respect for Carmichael but my gaze goes to Albrooke. He looks like he’s going to be sick. The two of them fight during practice like they get off on it. Oiler and Johnson surround him and get him somewhat settled, but I can tell his head isn’t in the right place anymore.

I chew on my mouth guard as I wait for my turn back on the ice. The refs get the boys set and restart the game. The puck is flung to a Providence player and the fight for the goal starts once again. It’s a constant battle and we’re all hungry for it.

At least, we usually are. Most of the team is, but not me. I’m hungry for something else.

For the escape only one person has ever helped me find. For the release of all my responsibilities for just a few minutes.

Normally, when my skates hit the ice, I can tune out all of life’s bullshit. My brother’s problems, my mom blaming everything he does on me, the weight of everyone around me to be perfect all the damn time. But I can’t today. Today, all I want is for Nick to wrap his hand in my hair, make me look into his eyes, and have him tell me that I’m enough.

Why can’t I ever be enough?

Coach yells for a line change and I stand to get ready to head back out on the ice. The defenders come off and my skates hit the ice. I take off toward the other side of the ice and try to focus. The puck is on our side and I hustle to block a winger trying to get to the goal. There are bodies everywhere, sticks and skates making it hard to get the puck to move. I shove the player in front of me hard enough to get him out of the way and Matthews, my other defender, flings the puck back to the other side where Louis grabs it and scrambles across the blue line with Kendall.

The first line wingers, Kendall and Louis, pass it back and forth a few times before aiming at our center, Yaw, who manages to get the biscuit in the basket and the lamp lights up!

“Fuck yeah!” Matthews hollers, his hands in the air. Relief surges through me that I didn’t fuck up the play, and I head back to the bench.

“Good teamwork, boys,” Coach says as we come off the ice, but he’s not looking at us. He’s watching our second line get set for the puck drop.

It’s rough the rest of the game but we manage a win. It was hard and we’re all exhausted by the time we get to the locker room. Adrenaline keeps us standing but once we hit the showers and get changed, most of us just want to eat and pass out.

I overhear Albrooke on the phone and turn to watch him grab Carmichael’s stuff then take off.

Johnson and Oiler share a look that I’m sure is them deciding if they are going to go to the hospital as well. If I were close to either Albrooke or Carmichael, I would go.

“Hey, Coach,” I holler when I see him enter the locker room. He turns and stops when he sees me. “Any update on Carmichael?”

“Dislocated shoulder. He’ll be out probably the rest of the season.”

Shit.

I nod with a boulder in my stomach. I’ll have to help Coach rearrange the lines. While I don’t make those decisions myself, Coach does take my opinion seriously when it comes to who works best together.

We climb on the bus and head back to our hotel for the night. We have strict rules about going out since we have another game tomorrow and I’ll have to check rooms to do a head count at nine fifteen.

I head up to the room that I’m sharing with Bryce and change into flannel pajama pants and a Darby U hockey T-shirt. I’m not going out. My stomach is in knots and even though I’m tired, my body wants to move.

I end up pacing the length of our room. Bryce comes in not long after me and eyes me while he gets changed, but he’s used to my pacing.

“You all right?” he asks, sitting on his bed to pull on sneakers.

“Fine,” I sigh and turn to head back in the other direction.

“Because you always pace when there’s nothing wrong.”

Bryce comes up behind me and when I turn, he grabs my shoulders.

“Losing Carmichael sucks, but we’ll be okay. Injuries happen, man.” He squeezes my shoulders and I want to melt into the comfort he’s offering, but I don’t. I’m the captain and a senior. I have to be strong for the underclassmen.

“Of course. We’ll manage.” I nod and step around him. I can hear him sigh, but he leaves with a quiet snick of the door.

I want to scream, destroy the room, and let out the frustration the last week has left me with, but I can’t.

My chest tightens until I feel like I can’t breathe and tears threaten to fall down my cheeks. I miss Nick so much. It’s physically painful, but he’s too much of a distraction. Hockey and school has to come first, and after graduation I have to move back home. Char can’t keep taking care of Matt. She deserves to live her own life, be happy, get married, and have babies if she wants.

That’s not in the cards for me. Matt doesn’t want to grow up so I’ll spend the rest of my life taking care of him. Not to mention when Mom gets too old to take care of herself, I’ll have to take care of her too. It’s only fair, right? Since she took care of me, I should take care of her.

My phone pings and with anxiety and guilt weighing heavy on me, I pick it up. At Nick’s picture, a sob escapes me. He’s the only one who has seen me for who I am on the inside. He sees the mess, how overwhelmed I am, and takes the burden from me.

In a moment of desperation, I unlock my phone and call him.

“Joey.” His voice shows his surprise and the background is loud.

“Help me.” Tears are running down my face and I’m barely keeping myself from a full-blown meltdown. “I-I-I—” I can’t fucking breathe.

“Joey.” That demand in his voice cuts through some of the panic. “Where are you?”

I close my eyes and slide down the wall until I can pull my knees up to my face.

“Ho-hotel.” I hate how broken my voice is. How weak.

“Are you alone?” The noise in the background is gone suddenly and I can hear his breathing.

“Yes,” I whisper. So very alone. Even when I’m with my teammates, I’m alone. I don’t have friends, not really, not anyone who knows me. Only Nick.