26. Gabe
26 /
gabe
The puck came screaming toward me, a wicked slapshot from Miami’s sniper, Ricci, who always seemed to find the soft spots in a goalie’s game. My eyes tracked the puck, and I raised my glove, but the damn thing kissed the inside of the post and clattered into the net. The goal horn blared, and the Miami crowd’s roar made my ears ring.
“Fuck!” I slammed my stick against the post and skated out from the goal to vent my exasperation. That was three now—three goals I should have stopped.
The referee pointed to center ice, and I returned to my crease, still trying to clear my head. Criswell’s voice echoed from the bench, yelling something I couldn’t make out, but I knew the tone: frustration, bordering on disbelief. I was right there with him.
The faceoff was for shit. Harpy lost it clean, and Miami charged into our zone like a pack of wolves. Their passing was razor-sharp, quick one-twos that spread our D thin. My mind screamed at me to focus, but all I could think about was Brody. Was he still mad? Had he thought about what I said? Was he eating anything or just lying there miserable with the flu?
A pass zipped from the corner to the high slot, and I shuffled to square up. The Sunrise’s captain wound up for another slapshot, and I dropped, ready for the blast. But it was a fake; he shoveled it to the back door, where Ricci tapped it in behind me, easy as pie.
The crowd’s cheer hit me like a gut punch. I didn’t even look at my defensemen because I knew they were shooting daggers my way. Hell, I deserved it. I was leaving them out to dry.
When the buzzer sounded for the first intermission, the score was 4–1. I dragged myself to the locker room, embarrassed to show my face, and the boys tried to pump me up. Holky clapped me on the back and told a filthy joke about Ricci, and Jax said a few words about a comeback, but I barely heard them. My head was a mess. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Brody’s face and remembered his flat, distant stare as he said, “I don’t know what to do.”
I went to the bathroom to piss, then washed my hands and splashed water on my face. Focus up , I muttered to myself. Do your job. Stop being a fucking disaster and help your boys win this damn game.
Things didn’t get better in the second period, though. Miami maintained their assault, relentless and perfectly in sync. After the first faceoff, one of their men flew toward me, but I didn’t even register him until he crossed our blue line. Thirty seconds in, they scored again, this time on a snap shot from the slot that snuck under my glove.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I wanted to scream, but there wasn’t time. Play resumed, and the Sunrise came at us again. I managed a save, kicking a rebound to the corner, but their winger picked it up and cycled it back to the point. Another slapshot, another goal. I couldn’t remember playing a game with so many fucking slapshots.
A couple of minutes later, Holky won a faceoff and sent the puck to Riley. When one of Miami’s blueliners cross-checked Riley from behind and knocked him off his feet, the ref blew his whistle. He sent Miami’s man to the box with a minor, giving me a few seconds to gulp some water and take a deep breath.
Criswell called out, but I couldn’t hear what he said. It didn’t take long to figure it out because Bjork, my backup, headed onto the ice. Fuck me and my fucking goddamn messed-up head; it had been years since I was pulled in the middle of a period. My legs felt like lead as I skated to the bench, and once I got there, I couldn’t even look at the guys. Shame burned hot in my chest, and I didn’t remove my mask. Since I’d been as valuable as a fart in a windstorm, I needed the barrier.
The game continued, and I checked out completely. My mind was miles away, in Buffalo. I imagined Brody curled up in bed, looking as defeated as I felt. My stomach twisted at the memory of his words and how much pain was behind them. It was hard to believe I’d hurt someone I loved so much I might lose him forever.
I should’ve fought harder, explained better, and done something to make him understand. I’d failed, just like I failed in this asshole of a game. But I did try, damn it. Anger I’d buried boiled over inside me, and I edged my way off the bench and clomped down the tunnel. When I turned a corner and was away from the TV cameras, I paused. Fire erupted in my gut, and I banged my stick against the wall with a fury that shocked me. Over and over, I slammed the stick against the concrete until it came completely apart. When all that remained were unrecognizable shards scattered across the floor, one of the equipment guys took my arm and led me to the locker room.
I finally removed my helmet and slumped in my stall, holding my head in my hands. Fuck this mess, and fuck me for making that idiotic bet. And fuck Brody for not believing in me more than he did. If he really loved me, shouldn’t he give me the benefit of the doubt? I’d never given him a reason to think I didn’t care about him. Yes, I’d made the bet, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love him. It didn’t mean anything. I understood how hurt Brody was by his past, but it was a new day. I adored him, so why was he acting like I was the asshole of the century who used him to win a few drinks?
Another cheer erupted from the Miami fans, and I glanced at the TV hanging on the far wall. Bjork had let one in too, so at least I wasn’t alone in the shit show anymore. Good for the Warriors, letting a bunch of Sunrise hoodlums bend us over the bench and fuck us in front of millions of fans.
Since I couldn’t get out of my gear—if something happened to Bjork, Criswell would have to send me back in—I found a bottle of Gatorade and went to the visitors’ lounge. I couldn’t ignore my own anger and hurt, but it wasn’t worth giving up on Brody. If I was going to win back his trust, I needed to think smart. I spent the rest of the game trying to come up with ideas because fixing this mess was the most important thing in my life.
After the game, the guys went out to drown their sorrows, but I stayed at the hotel. In the end, the team hadn’t been as humiliated as I was. Our 7–3 loss could have been worse, and it probably would have been if Criswell had left me in the net.
As soon as I changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt, I texted Brody.
GABE: How are you, babe? Did Emma come over?
brODY: A little better, and yes she did.
GABE: I’m glad to hear it. Did you watch the game?
Call me a masochist, but I couldn’t help asking.
brODY: Most of the second, and all of the third. I’m sorry you had a bad night.
GABE: Thanks. I couldn’t get my mind off things. Have you done any more thinking?
At first, there was nothing. Then typing bubbles came and went, and I wondered what kind of book he was writing.
brODY: Yes. The bet could have been worse, but it was still a bet. I’m not thinking as fast as I should because I’m sick. Give me another day or two to be sure of what I want to say, and I promise we’ll talk about it.
Despite my blood pressure soaring through the roof, I managed not to throw my phone at the goddamn window. Instead, I counted to ten to be sure I didn’t snap at him.
GABE: I’m so fucking sorry, Brody. I’d give anything to change what I did. Please forgive me.
brODY: I’m trying but you know what I’ve been through, and this is a big trust thing. Just being honest, so don’t push me, okay?
Don’t push? How the hell was I supposed to act like nothing was wrong while he decided whether I should take a permanent hike? Extremely frustrated, I knew we should change the subject, so I asked about Otto. Brody said he’d stayed by his side all day and had been a great nurse. Then he told me that he’d had a good talk about our situation with Emma, and she’d restocked his provisions.
GABE: You can last until she comes back then?
brODY: No question. She brought up as much stuff as you did.
GABE: Good for her. Please take care of yourself, babe. Can I call you in the morning? It would help to hear your voice for a minute.
brODY: Sure. It’ll help me to hear yours too.
My spirits lifted enough for a glimmer of hope to make it through.
GABE: We’re flying to Tampa after breakfast, so I’ll call you before I go down to the bus. Will that work?
brODY: I’m not going anywhere so call when you can.
GABE: I love you, Brody.
He made me wait a moment for his reply.
brODY: I love you too, and I’m really trying to get past this. Good night.
I hoped he loved me enough to let this go.
After a short flight to Tampa, the guys announced plans to rent eBoats after lunch. Apparently, cruising around on the water was supposed to be a magical cure for my mood, but I wasn’t buying it. I didn’t feel like lunch, eBoats, or endless chirps I’d heard a thousand times before. Truthfully, I didn’t feel like anything but fixing this shitty mess with Brody, so I mumbled something about needing to rest and fled to my room. If hiding under a duvet were an Olympic sport, I’d have won a gold medal.
It wasn’t long until someone knocked on the door. I ignored it, and a second round followed. Still ignored it. Then came the pounding, a relentless rhythm that had me wondering if I was being summoned by the FBI. I groaned and hauled myself up, then moped my way to the door.
Swinging it open ready to yell, I found Harpy and Holky standing there, each sporting smug grins that screamed trouble. Before I could slam the door in their faces, they muscled their way in like they owned the place.
“Lunch,” Harpy declared, clapping his hands together. “You’re coming.”
“I’m not,” I said flatly. “Enjoy your bonding time without me.”
Holky crossed his arms and lifted a brow. “Gabe, we can do this the easy way, or the fun way.”
I frowned. “What’s the fun way?”
“Carrying your sulking ass downstairs,” Harpy said without missing a beat. “In team meetings, you’re always going on about how we’re family. Well, here’s your reminder. Family doesn’t let family wallow alone in their misery. We’re your brothers, so you’ve got two choices: come willingly, or we’ll make a scene so big they’ll rename this hotel after you.”
“Honestly,” Holky added, keeping a straight face, “I kind of want to try carrying you. You look heavier than you should be for a goalie.”
I glared at them, but their resolve was unshakable. They looked ready to pick me up by my elbows and frog-march me to lunch. With the last bit of energy I had, I threw up my hands and stomped to the closet for my shoes.
“Fine,” I snapped. “But I’m not changing. You get casual Gabe today.”
Holky smirked. “Don’t worry. That’s our favorite Gabe.”
Harpy slapped me on the arm as I passed. “Lunch is on us, champ. Misery sandwiches all around.”
At least twenty of our teammates were waiting at the Fish Fork, a small seafood restaurant beside the water near our hotel. The outdoor seating area had breathtaking views of the water and downtown Tampa. It should’ve been relaxing, but I was wound tighter than tape on a hockey stick.
The waiter arrived to take our drink orders. Most of the guys already had beers, and they were joking around like we hadn’t been smoked the night before. Holky and Harpy went with lagers, but I ordered a double bourbon and cola. If this lunch went the way I expected it to, I’d need more than a beer.
As soon as the waiter brought our drinks and wrote down our orders—I asked for a shrimp po’boy I knew I wouldn’t eat—Logan leaned forward, put his elbows on the table, and got directly to the point. “What’s going on with you and Tanner, Gabe?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. “Everything’s fine.”
A few guys snorted. Packy outright laughed, then tried to cover it up with a cough before saying, “Come on, bud. That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.”
I shot him a murderous glare. “Seriously. Everything’s fine.”
Mason, sitting directly across from me, cocked his head. “It’s about that bet, isn’t it?”
“What bet?” My stomach twisted, and I shook my head. “What the fuck do you know about it, anyway?”
Holky scratched his chin. “Uh… they kind of cornered me at the airport and got it out of me. Sorry, Chief. Our boys are nosy bastards.”
“Nosy doesn’t begin to cover it,” I said, glancing around the table at all the expectant faces. Every pair of eyes was on me, making me want to hide. “This is my private business. Leave it alone.”
Logan, to Mason’s left, shook his head. “We can’t.” I glanced away, and he called my name. When I didn’t move, he said, “Look at me, Gabriel.”
I stiffened. Nobody but Logan ever called me Gabriel, and he only did it in dire circumstances. Reluctantly, I met his gaze, and his warm expression raised a lump in my throat.
“We can’t leave it alone because we care about you,” he said. “And we need your head in the game. Look what happened last night.”
I downed some of my drink. “You mean when the moon rose? We had a bad game, that’s all.”
“It wasn’t just a bad game,” Jax, sitting next to me, said.
I scoffed, trying to keep my voice steady. “What the hell was it, then?”
“A disaster.” Harpy’s voice was as firm as I’d ever heard it. “A bad game means you’re not up to your usual standard, but last night? You weren’t even there. I’ve been watching you play since I was a kid, and I’ve never seen you like that.”
My chest squeezed as I looked away. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad.”
Logan shook his head again. “Yes, it was. We’ve been teammates for ten years, and I didn’t even recognize you. You played better in juniors.”
“We all saw your face when Criswell sent Bjork out,” Holky said. “Pissed off, but also relieved.”
Bjork looked my way. “You turned your head the other way when we passed on the ice.”
Jax leaned back and crossed his arms. “We heard you talking to yourself in the bathroom, trying to psych yourself up between periods. That’s not you, man. You’re always the steadiest guy on the team.”
We went quiet as I tried to process their words. Acid poured into my stomach, which had clenched like a tight fist. Every eye was on me, and although they were full of concern, they stung. Sadness, fear, frustration, and anger—everything I’d been feeling since Brody learned about the bet—surged all at once, and I couldn’t move. I was so overwhelmed I could barely breathe, let alone cry. So much for that; I panicked when my chest started heaving.
Harpy jumped up and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s take a walk. Come on.”
I shook my head, unable to find words.
“Gabe?” His voice was low but insistent. “We’re going inside. Now.”
I wasn’t sure I could make it anywhere, but he was right. We needed to get out of sight because you never knew who was nearby with their cell phone camera at the ready. Bracing my hands against the arms of the chair, I pushed myself up and let Harpy guide me away from the table. My legs were heavy as we slipped inside the restaurant. The air was cooler there, and it was much quieter than outside. All the better to hear the pounding in my ears.
The bathroom was tiny, with tiled walls and a single toilet and sink. After he locked the door behind us, Harpy faced me. “Let it out, Gabe.”
I didn’t want to cry in front of him, but his soulful eyes broke me. Hot, bitter tears spilled down my face as I leaned against the wall. Seconds later, a sob tore free.
Harpy was there in an instant, gripping my shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he said. “Let it out, and we’ll come up with a plan when we go back outside.”
“I fucked it all up,” I choked out. “I hurt him. It was a dumb bet, but he has all these scars, and…”
“You didn’t mean to hurt him, and we’ll help you fix it. Whatever it takes, we’ll find a way to bring him around.”
When I pulled myself together and we returned to the table, it was clear the guys had already pieced things together. I didn’t need to give them a full play-by-play, thank God, but I shared enough to help them understand where Brody and I stood. Careful not to say too much, I explained some of what he was feeling and why.
The floodgates opened, and ideas flew from every direction. Some were ridiculous while others were surprisingly insightful. Logan suggested a grand romantic gesture, Holky came up with a stunt so outrageous it bordered on criminal, and Packy threw in a few useless but entertaining jokes. My tension eased, replaced by something I hadn’t felt much of in days: hope.
By the time lunch was over, we had a plan. It was a good one, too; the boys had really come through for me as only family can. For the first time since the nightmare began, I believed Brody and I could actually find our way back to each other.
Now, I had to think of a way to convince him to go to Boston.