Chapter 9
CALLUM
Edmonton kicked my butt, and I was in no mood to chat to my teammates as we changed back into our game-day suits.
Four to one. All four goals in the third period too.
Not entirely my screwup because the defense fell apart in front of me, but the first goal— the one that started their comeback from being down by one— was the definition of a muffin, soft as butter.
I could’ve stopped that shot in juniors.
And yet somehow the puck tipped up over my pad and into the net.
Then with goal three, the Edmonton asshole standing in my crease didn’t get called for interference, and I did get called for slashing at his legs.
They got goal four on the power play, while the guy serving my penalty was sitting in the box.
If the Dragons’ player-development team was watching that game, goodbye to my NAPH hopes for next year.
I slammed my locker hard, and cursed as the door bounced open, spilling my mask out onto the floor.
“Hey, Fitzer. It’s okay.” Hobbes, who was passing by, scooped my mask off the floor and passed it to me. “We all have bad games.”
“That wasn’t just bad.” I stuffed my brain bucket away and managed not to slam the door again. “I had better games in Under-11s.”
“I doubt it. The first three saves on their last power play were sick.”
“Right up till the goal I let in. Fuck!” I kicked at my bench, hard, the impact echoing through the dress shoes I wore that’d probably saved some toes.
Hobbes grabbed my arm and shook me back and forth.
“Cut it out. Hurting yourself would screw up the team way worse than any bad game. You’re dressed.
Get the hell out of here. Find some pretty woman and get laid.
Or eat your weight in ice cream, I don’t care.
But unwind, because you’re all up in your head lately. ”
Find some pretty woman. Right. Not Hobbes’s fault he didn’t know I was a liar.
I could get laid. Zeke was off for the next three days. Off tonight, too, so I could wait till Jos was likely asleep and then march over there. Bend Zeke over that little bathroom counter, fuck him till I forgot my own name. He’d probably be up for it.
But it didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel clean, using Zeke to get my anger out. Maybe not even safe, although he was only four inches shorter than me and in good shape. But the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. “Ice cream sounds like a plan,” I muttered.
Hobbes punched my shoulder. “Go on then, eat some carbs. Although you need to get laid, bad.”
I glared at him. “You have no idea what I need.” Then felt guilty when his expression hardened and he took a step back.
But apologies weren’t something I was good at, and I was still vibrating with frustration, so I stomped off out of the locker room.
A few people stood around outside the locker area, waiting for their friends or family to emerge.
Naturally, no one ever waited for me there.
But as I strode through, I heard my name called in a female voice.
I hesitated and turned.
Hannah hurried over to me. “Callum! I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?”
Blond, perky sweetness had never been my thing, but I liked her too much to just brush her off. “Okay. Not so great tonight.”
She laughed like that was a joke. “Yeah. Ethan will be kicking himself over that shot that hit the crossbar.”
“Sully did okay.” At least he got a shot off on the Edmonton net. More than some of the other guys managed.
“I love having him living at home, but I miss seeing you.” She reached out and hugged me, which I suffered in silence. Hannah never did read my cues, but she meant well. “You have to come over, maybe for dinner. Or we could go out somewhere.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I disengaged from her grasp and faked a smile. “Have Sully text me.”
She looked ready to say more but then her eyes drifted over my shoulder and she called, “Hey, Ethan! Over here.”
I hurried off before I could see them hug and kiss. I’d never kissed anyone outside a locker room.
Night had fallen, but the traffic was still annoying as I drove home.
Forty minutes became an hour, detouring around an accident, and when I pulled into Grandpa’s driveway, I was just done.
Stick a fork in me. The only thing keeping me going was the thought of the last three chocolate chip cookies in the pantry cupboard, headphones, and a binge of symphonic metal.
Lights were still on in Zeke’s house, and I gave a moment’s thought to going over there, but all the reasons not to impose my bad mood on Zeke still applied.
Plus it was Saturday and Jos might still be up.
No. Cookies would have to do. Maybe jerking off while imagining I was fucking Zeke’s fine ass.
Grandpa’s downstairs was dark. He didn’t watch every game these days and fell asleep earlier than when I last lived at home.
I was just as glad he’d taken himself off to bed and not suffered that game with me.
Plus the couch did a number on his spine.
I’d unknotted my tie as soon as I got in the car, and I tossed my jacket on the back of the couch, then headed to the kitchen, dimly lit by the under-counter fluorescents.
A dirty mug sat in the sink, which worried me.
Grandpa didn’t leave dishes out, and I couldn’t imagine why it was there unless he’d felt too bad to stand and rinse it.
I made a mental note to get up early and hit the kitchen before Grandpa, even though it was a day I could sleep in.
Otherwise, that stubborn old man would sneak out to work no matter how his back was acting up.
The package of chocolate chip cookies was missing from its shelf in the pantry cupboard. I turned on the overhead light to double check, in case it got pushed back, but no. Missing.
Maybe Jos had come over. Grandpa was not a fan of the crunchy cookies I preferred, but a teen boy would eat anything. I opened the trash bin and sure enough, there was the empty package.
Crap. My eyes stung. I felt stupid for lost cookies mattering so much, but I’d been sustaining myself on the drive home with the idea of bingeing.
The empty package was another kick in the nuts, even though I didn’t really begrudge Jos.
I could dig through the peanuts and dried fruit and other healthy options for a snack, but I didn’t want to.
Slamming the trash can against the wall as the lid fell shut, I turned for the stairs.
And stopped.
Coming down the last step, with one of my cookies in his hand, was the man who’d made growing up with Grandpa less than idyllic.
“Cal! How’ve you been, boy?” Uncle Wayne strolled towards me.
I backed into the kitchen without meaning to, and he grinned as he walked past me, ate the last bite of cookie, and then got one of my beers out of the fridge.
I bit back “those are mine,” as he popped the cap, and asked, “What are you doing here? I thought you were in prison.”
“There’s this thing called parole, kid. I did my time. Now I’m out, a reformed citizen.”
Anyone who believed that probably sent their bank codes to Nigerian princes. “Does Grandpa know?” I asked, before realizing that was a stupid question.
Uncle Wayne laughed. “Sure he does. Came to get me at the prison gate. Offered me a place to stay.” He gestured toward the upstairs bedrooms. “Place has gone downhill since I was here last. You could at least do a little home maintenance for Dad, pay him back for taking you in.”
I ground my teeth because I’d been doing that, and fuck him for sneering at that spot where the wallpaper was coming loose in the corner. “It won’t matter to you when you find a place of your own.”
“Sure, but that’s gonna take some time. I’ve got no savings for first and last month.”
“I’ll lend you some.” Uncle Wayne would never pay me back, but to get him out of Grandpa’s house, I’d pay almost anything.
Except, of course, he chuckled. “I never borrow money. It’s a bad idea. This house is plenty big enough for the three of us to rattle around in it.”
“Are you planning to work for your keep, then? Or pay Grandpa rent?”
“Of course. Soon as I get a job.” Uncle Wayne took a long pull on his beer. “Won’t be easy with the job market the way it is, but I’ll try.”
I might’ve suggested he could help around the store and give Grandpa a real break, but I didn’t want Uncle Wayne near Nina’s.
I was pretty sure that the last time, before he got arrested, Uncle Wayne was helping himself from the till.
That summer, my cash-register drawer was a hundred dollars off more than once when Uncle Wayne had been around, and when I told Grandpa, he just sighed and said not to worry about it, and looked older.
Well, I wasn’t seventeen now. I was taller than Uncle Wayne, if only by a couple of inches, and fitter, although he looked like he’d worked out while in prison.
And I could stand up to him where Grandpa wouldn’t.
I took a step closer, instead of away. “If you’re staying here, you’ll follow Grandpa’s rules.
No getting drunk, no stealing, no gambling, no guests over.
” That wasn’t an actual rule, but for Uncle Wayne with his deadbeat friends, I was making it one.
“You break any of those rules, and I will throw you out.”
He laughed in my face. “You think Dad’s going to let you do that, when I’ve been gone so long and had it so rough?” He injected false pathos into his voice. “Prison was terrible, but I’ve seen the error of my ways. All I need is a helping hand, to turn my life around.”
“Bullshit!” I replied, not giving way. “Grandpa paid for a therapist for you last time. And how long did that last? Or the time before that?” The first time I knew of, I was twelve, and accidentally heard one of their conversations. The second time, I was sixteen.