Chapter 10 - Stone

I’m no better than the monsters I hunt.

No, that’s not entirely true.

At least I stopped.

But it shouldn’t have taken Callum that many times saying it for me to actually fucking listen. I thought he was just fighting it, being stubborn, not wanting to admit he wants me as much as I want him. He was hard, but that doesn’t mean shit. It doesn’t mean he wanted to be.

They’re all weak excuses.

I’ve been beating myself up about it for the past week. I’ve avoided him outside of practice, not even sitting next to him in class.

I’m finally giving him what he always wanted.

For me to disappear.

The only place I can’t do that for him is in the rink.

But what I have been doing is trying to pick up his slack on the ice. It’s clear he still doesn’t want to play with me, that he’s still thrown off by my mere presence. However, I’ve been trying to make it easier for him to find my stick, traveling as fast and as far as I need to make sure our passes connect, taking that additional fraction of a second to aim so the puck finds his tape when I slap it to him.

The extra effort has paid off, but I don’t know if it’ll be enough for our first game tonight.

I’ve already told Lacey to be doing some research for me while I’m here in Massachusetts. Just in case.

We’re playing back-to-back games here this weekend, one tonight and one tomorrow night. That’s two nights in the hotel our bus just pulled up at. We’re all outside, retrieving our luggage from the baggage compartment under the bus, leaving the gear for when we go to the arena. The tension is high as we move silently. I don’t think many of us have much hope for this weekend.

Coach Hill has already gone inside the lobby, leaving the rest of us to trudge in after him once we’ve collected our things.

After he’s checked in all the rooms, he walks over with a stack of key cards in his hands. “You all have twenty minutes to get your shit into your room and be back down here before we leave for practice. Simmons and Brooks.”

Nate walks over and takes the keys from Coach before he and Brooks head off for the elevators.

“Hayes and Wakefield.”

My heart sinks all the way down into the bottom of my gut, churning and churning until I feel sick.

That’s the last thing I need. To be in a hotel room with Callum alone after I practically forced myself on him. That’s the last thing he needs.

However, he’s stepping forward, taking the keys without a single complaint.

“Coach, I don’t know if—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Wakefield,” Coach cuts me off with a glare. “You two have your issues, I get it. But you’re either going to work it out off the ice or kill each other in your sleep. I don’t really care which one. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

Coach really isn’t pulling any punches anymore, calling us out in front of the entire team.

So, of course, I can’t argue. Especially since Callum is already walking away toward the elevators. I follow after him, thankful we’re able to catch one with Nate and Brooks up to the third floor. The ride up is tense and silent like the past few hours have been since we left Connecticut.

The elevator doors open, and the four of us head down the hallway to the right. Our rooms are right next to each other, and Nate and Callum both slide their keys into the locks.

“Remember.” Nate opens his door, pinning us each with a stern look. “Twenty minutes.”

“Got it,” Callum says.

I doubt it’ll take even that long. I have every intention of running out as soon as I can.

I close the door behind us once we’re inside the room. Hanging back, I let Callum pick which bed he wants first. When he tosses his duffel onto the one nearest the door, I move around him and set mine down on the second bed by the window.

It feels as though he wants to be closer to the only escape from this room, and I can’t blame him for it.

Opening my bag, I take out my toiletries and go put them in the bathroom. Chances are, after the night I’m about to have, I’m going to come back to this room too damn exhausted to unpack. Not to mention I won’t want to wake Callum.

When I come back into the room, he’s still standing at the foot of his bed, staring down at his bag.

I try to ignore whatever internal crisis he’s dealing with, moving past him. I unpack my phone charger and plug it in, then put a few of my clothes in a drawer before tossing my half empty bag onto the armchair beside my bed.

I can’t take the silence any longer. I can’t take Callum’s quiet turmoil that’s filling the room with a suffocating unease.

With nothing left to do and barely a few minutes killed, I go to leave the room.

Callum finally moves, stepping in front of me and blocking my path to the door. “Stone, can we—”

“No. Get out of my way.”

His brows draw together, more confused than angry at my animosity. “We have a game tonight, and I really think we should—”

“We should play exactly how we used to. Hate me. Hit me. Whatever you need to do. Forget everything else because the game is more fucking important.”

It hasn’t escaped my notice that we play better together when Callum hates me, when there’s only one emotion he’s focused on instead of whatever else he’s been feeling since he showed me his scars that night of the party. Since the night we both saw a little more of each other than maybe we should have.

If I have to make his life a living hell inside this room, then that’s what I’ll do.

Is it fair when he’s done nothing wrong? Of course not. But it also might be the kinder thing to do.

I don’t want to be the reason for more of his distress.

Hate is easier. Hate is kinder.

“Now, is there anything you need to do before I leave this room?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m not going to hit you.”

“Fine. Then get out of my way.”

Get out of my way before I can’t fucking control myself again.

He steps to the side and lets me pass.

I exit the room, leaving him alone. Once the door is closed, I lean my back against it and take a steadying breath.

I don’t feel good about treating Callum like shit, but…

Hate is kinder.

Unfortunately, my attempt at getting us back to how we played a few weeks ago was in vain.

We lost.

Spectacularly.

The final score was four to one. I’m surprised we made even one goal. Of course, that one point came from a penalty shot after Nate was hooked on a breakaway in the second period. Other than that, our team walked away with the most penalties.

Okay, fine. I walked away with the most penalties.

I was in a shitty mood after my argument with Callum and seeing that it didn’t have the intended effect. Our pre-game practice went even worse than the ones we’ve had at home these past couple of weeks.

During the game, I spent more time in the penalty box than I did on the ice. Massachusetts was brutal, finding every chance they could to throw shoulders or crunch our guys into the boards. It didn’t matter who went down or if it resulted in a penalty on their player. I retaliated.

Cross-checking. Roughing. Tripping.

And that’s just the short list of penalties that were called on me.

If it wasn’t for Callum’s natural speed on the ice, he might’ve been caught in one of those legal checks they kept pulling. If he had walked away with bruises, someone would’ve been cleaning blood off the ice tonight.

A lot of it.

I’m more than happy to take all the bruises for him.

He did get hooked once but didn’t get hurt. The winger who did that was fortunate to feel the wrath of my stick instead of my fist.

Coach benched me early in the third period, replacing me with Brooks. I’m probably lucky I didn’t get suspended.

I can’t even fully blame our loss on Callum. We might have done at least a little better had I not been in a fucking mood. Neither one of us could connect a pass with the other if our lives depended on it.

The team played better once Brooks was out there with Callum and Nate. And I hate admitting that.

Still, I had fucked up so thoroughly that the entire team’s dynamic was thrown off.

Even Fitz was pissed with me after the game. He may not be the best goalie, but he wasn’t the one who played their worst game tonight. He blocked more shots than he let in. He’s improved a hell of a lot, and he deserves teammates who don’t let the puck past them too many fucking times. Had we not given them so many opportunities at the crease, they wouldn’t have scored as many times as they did.

Callum and I both received silent glares in the locker room and on the bus on the way back to the hotel.

I want to fix this. Even if it’s just for Callum’s sake.

But I don’t fucking know how.

Everyone has gone inside with the plan to take food up to their rooms from the hotel restaurant. There will definitely be no celebrating tonight.

As for me, I’ll be brooding alone.

Well, not totally alone. I’ll have company soon.

I’m leaning against the outside wall of the hotel with a bag slung over my shoulder, one I kept with my hockey gear. I dial my sister’s number and place the phone to my ear.

“You guys really sucked tonight.”

I roll my eyes. “Hello to you too, Lacey.”

“Oh, like you called to chitchat.”

“Fair,” I say with a grin that tugs at unused muscles. “So do you have what I need?”

She scoffs. “I’m offended you even have to ask. I’ll do you one better. I got you a date. How does a night at the beach sound?”

My grin widens. “Sounds lovely.”

“Sending it to you now. Be careful.”

“I always am.”

As soon as I hang up, I pull my other phone out of my bag. My date is set for an hour from now at a beach not too far away. It’ll take just over half an hour to walk there.

It’s a good night for a stroll.

Lacey and I end our calls the same way every time. The truth is I’m always careful. But a walk beforehand will do me some good.

I need to clear my head so I don’t make any mistakes.

I’ve already made far too many.