Chapter 22

22

Joey

We’re on our Saturday game against Vegas and we’re struggling. Something has Oiler and Johnson distracted. Albrooke is confused, which means I’m not the only one, and Carmichael is hell-bent on making sure we all know how much he hates us tonight.

During a break in the game, Willis slides up next to me sweaty and panting. “What the fuck is his problem tonight?”

“No idea. Ignore him.”

The puck drops and the game takes off. Normally I love the fast pace of the game. There’s no time for anything but this. Watching the puck, anticipating where it will go next, who will try to block or steal. If your head isn’t in the game, it’s obvious. To everyone.

At the first break, I smack Oiler and Johnson upside the helmet as we head toward the locker room.

“What was that for, Carp?” Oiler looks over his shoulder at me.

“I don’t know what is going on with you two tonight but get your shit together. It’s clear you aren’t in this game,” I snap and shoulder past them.

Shit. I’m not normally one to yell. I’m calm under pressure, keep my head in high-stress situations, but I just lost my cool.

I drop down in front of my cubby and take a long drink from my water bottle. I’m sweaty and sore from yesterday’s game but I’ve got another fifteen minutes of game time to do tonight. Closing my eyes, I force myself to take a deep breath. And then another.

The room is loud around me, Coach is yelling while also giving a pep talk, and all I want to do is curl up in bed with Nick.

Focus on the game.

When I look around the room again, Bryce is watching me with a strange expression but doesn’t say anything.

As we make our way back down the hallway, I realize that I don’t find freedom in hockey like I used to. For years, I lived and breathed this game. I did everything I could to make sure I could play. I played sick, I played hurt, I played exhausted, I played while my siblings were sick in the stands. Hockey was my life.

Now as a senior in college, it’s just something I do.

Something I used to love.

I love the guys on the team and I’m glad I’m able to play with them, but I’m not hungry for it like I used to be.

I’m just…tired.

Carmichael spends the next ten minutes of playtime yelling at everyone, until I snap and yell back.

“Carmichael, fuck off! You aren’t helping!” He’s right behind the glass in the stands and if looks could kill, I would be bleeding out right now. If he wants to be mad at me, fine, go ahead. I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m over his shit.

“Poor Jer Bear is in for a long night,” Oiler sighs and shakes his head.

“What?” I turn to look at him and Albrooke winces.

“Yeah, thanks, Cap.” He looks behind me, probably at Carmichael, then back to the ice. “Way to rile him up before bedtime.”

“You could sneak some melatonin in his food,” Willis offers, and we all turn to stare at him in horror. Even I wouldn’t do that. “What?”

“You really think I could get away with that?” Albrooke lifts a skeptical eyebrow at him. “If I managed to do it and he fell asleep, he would murder me in the morning. If he caught me, I would leave the hotel in a body bag.”

“Also, now I feel like I need to watch my drinks around you, man.” Brendon puts his hand over his water bottle and turns away from him. “Consent is sexy, dude.”

Bryce hops over the wall with the other second lineman and drops down next to me while the first linemen and the second line defense go out. Willis is immediately thrown into the boards but bolts toward our goal to help Austin.

We’re quiet as we watch the battle on the ice, Austin doing his damnedest to keep the puck out of the crease, but the Vegas left winger manages to get the puck on his stick and fling it into the goal. The lamp lights up and we groan.

That’s that. We’re down six points with two minutes remaining.

This is not how I expected my senior year of hockey to go. When the season started, I was hoping to make it to the Frozen Four again. But I doubt we’ll even make it to finals.

When the final horn sounds, signaling the end of the game, everyone is depressed. It’s never easy to lose. It doesn’t matter how many games you play, how many times you walk away with an L, it feels personal every time.

We all skate out onto the ice to shake hands with the other team, saying shit like “Good game,” but what we all really want to do is duck into the locker room and not look at them.

I get to the Vegas captain and give him a smile. “Good job out there.”

He smiles back and pats my shoulder. “You too. You guys didn’t make it easy for us.”

I want to scoff but manage to keep it inside. I was a clown out there. A petulant child throwing a temper tantrum because things didn’t go my way.

I’m an embarrassment.

Coach gives us the ‘keep your chin up’ speech and we all get in the showers. Most of the guys are talking about going to find a bottle to sink into, a few are talking about strip clubs and puck bunnies. Riggs is trying to hang with the big boys tonight, the twenty-one-plus group, so I snag him on his way past me at my cubby.

“No.”

He opens those big puppy dog eyes at me like I just took his candy. “But, Cap…”

“If you want to drink, find a dumbass to sneak it into your hotel room like the rest of us had to do. If you get caught sneaking into a bar, Coach will have your ass.” I look at the crushed dreams in his eyes and fuck, he reminds me of Matty. Just a little, when he lets the walls down. “And you don’t have enough money to keep strippers interested. Find a bunny if you have to, but seriously, stay out of trouble. Vegas will eat you up and spit you out, and not in a fun way.”

He snorts and nods as he walks off, no longer striding around like a dickhead. I haven’t looked at my phone, but the blue light is blinking, telling me there’s something there. A message or twenty. Some crisis that I’m going to be blamed for not being there to fix. I’m sure the fact that it happened is my fault too.

I get my tie done, pull my shoes on, and slide into my jacket, only to be held up from leaving by Coach.

“Listen up, boys,” he growls and looks around at each and every one of us. “If you aren’t on that bus at seven sharp, I’m leaving your ass behind.”

The room erupts in groans of “Yes, Coach,” but he’s not done.

“And it better not smell like a brewery!”

There’s more grumbling but everyone acknowledges him, and we head out to the bus that will take us back to the hotel.

We all sit in basically the same seats every time, so I find mine and drop into it with a sigh. The notifications on my phone are burning a hole through me. I know I have to look at them. I know I will have to deal with whatever it is, but I’m so fucking tired of being the punching bag of my family.

“Your mom is going to need you when I’m gone.”

Dad’s scratchy words run through my head. It’s the only time I can still hear his voice. I don’t remember his laugh or stern ‘get your head out of your ass’ tone, only this one sentence from his deathbed. He died three days later.

It’s not fair. None of it.

That we lost him. That we had to watch him wither away. That I had to finish raising my siblings in his place. Everything from getting to school to heartbreaks to nightmares. I did it all. Mom kept a roof over our heads and food in the house, but she was checked out the rest of the time. I don’t remember the last time she went to a game or an open house at school. I did all of it. Char was always in the stands during home games and when Matt wasn’t getting into trouble, he was too.

They deserve better.

Tapping my phone screen to bring up the notifications, I sigh when I see Mom has called three times, Char has texted me five times, and Nick has texted me twice. Tears burn the back of my throat and I hate myself for wanting everyone to leave me alone.

“Yo, Cap!” Bryce calls from two rows ahead of me.

I give him a nod, telling him to continue.

“You coming out with us?” He motions to a few of the guys who are also looking back at me.

I shake my head and he sighs. I know he can tell something’s up with me and is trying to help by getting me out, but I don’t have the energy. All I want is to hide in my room with Nick wrapped around me. I want a hug. And cuddles.

And maybe an orgasm.

“If you change your mind, text me and I’ll send you our location.”

I give him a thumbs-up and lean my head back on the seat. Life has beaten me and I’m so tired of fighting.

Every part of me is exhausted. There’s nothing left to give.

Everyone gets off the bus and heads into their rooms to get changed. No one wants to hang out in these damn suits.

When I get to my room, Bryce on my heels, I drop down onto the end of my bed and put my head in my hands.

Bryce sits next to me, shoulder to shoulder with his hands clasped between his legs. “You want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to say.” There’s a knot in my throat and pressure on my shoulders. I want to yell, scream at the world to fuck off, but it won’t do any good. Bryce also doesn’t need me to unload all my bullshit on him.

“Is there anyone you talk to? Anyone you can vent to?” He leans into me a little.

Immediately, Nick pops into my head but he doesn’t really know what’s going on either. Not the details, anyway. It’s too much to unload on another person. It’ll just sound like I’m complaining anyway, like I’m a downer. No one wants to be around someone who complains all the time.

“I’m okay.” I sigh and sit up. “Just an off night.”

Bryce scratches his jaw and looks at me like he’s about to call me out. “Been having a lot of those lately.”

Yeah, thanks for that.

“You’re a good captain, man, a great player, but you’re in your head.”

He’s not wrong and that pisses me off. But it’s not his fault.

“I know.” I scrub my hands over my face. “I’m sorry I’m letting you guys⁠—”

“Shut up, Jesus fucking Christ. That’s not what I said.” He shoves me and I almost tip over off the bed. “Everyone can see you’re struggling but no one knows how to help because you won’t let anyone in.”

I thought I was hiding my bullshit, but I guess not. Shit.

“So, stand up and give me a hug or punch me in the face, whatever it takes to get that damn look off your face.” Bryce stands and opens his arms wide, watching me unblinkingly.

“You look like an obsessed stalker right now.” But I stand and without thinking about it, I hug him. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around my shoulders in a tight hug and slap my back.

“I know we’re supposed to be all emotionless Neanderthals, beating our chests and whatever, but it’s okay to need to talk to someone.” He squeezes me tighter and I take the comfort he’s offering.

When I let go, he does too, and I force a little smile on my face. “Thanks. I guess I needed that.”

“Well, hugs are all I got so if you need something else, find someone else.” He holds his hands out, palms toward me.

I chuckle and think of Nick. There are messages on my phone from him that I’m both excited and a little scared to look at. Did he watch the game? See me fucking up?

“Hey, hey!” Bryce slaps my chest. “Stop looking like someone kicked your dog. Get changed, eat something, hydrate, jack off if you need to, and go to bed.”

I lift an eyebrow at his suddenly stern tone. “And since when are you the boss of me?”

“Since you’ve been taking shitty care of yourself and it’s starting to show.”

Ouch.

Bryce steps around me and starts loosening his tie, so I do the same. In the quiet, we get changed, hang our suits up in the garment bags, and I put on pajamas while he finds jeans. All the while, I’m thinking about calling Nick. I wonder if he’ll be able to talk me through an orgasm again. It’s pathetic that I can’t get myself off. Frustrating and sad and pathetic.

“You sure you don’t want to come out?”

The question throws me off guard and I blush for a second. Come out? No, I’m not coming out. No one needs to know who I’m having sex with. Why would he ask that?

“What?” I don’t turn toward him, just stay frozen facing my bag.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come get food and a beer?” he says again, enunciating every word.

I want to sigh in relief but I don’t.

“Uh, no, I’ll order something here and crash.” I sit on the bed again and grab the remote. “Don’t stay out late or tomorrow will suck.”

He pats me on the shoulder on his way out the door, double-checks that he has his room key, then leaves.

I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

I’m a fucking mess.