Chapter 28 Liam
Liam
The car is silent for the entire five-minute drive home to our apartment building. I barely notice because my mind is so noisy. Maddie’s face is all I can see. It was a terrible cross between anger and pain. I wanted to both comfort her and yell at her.
“You’re the Captain, so I’d say this is on you.”
That one hurt. Not because she’s wrong, but because she wasn’t.
This is on me. The problem isn’t so much with what she said, although that was painful.
It’s how she said it. There was an edge to it that felt more spiteful than angry.
Men have disappointed her in the past, but I’m getting the brunt of it, which isn’t fair.
She won’t admit it, but I’m convinced that she’s never fully grieved for her parents’ death.
To me, it all looks tied together, but how do I tell her that?
Or suggest she see someone about it? Yeah, that won’t go over well.
I won’t let this be the end of our relationship, but I’m terrified she doesn’t feel the same.
As much as I want to, I’m not ready for that discussion, and I’m not sure she is either.
My meeting with Damon is looming, and that’s all I can focus on for now.
I am so screwed. Seriously. They’re going to take away my C.
Damon’s quite clearly pissed and justifiably so.
I shouldn’t have started a physical fight.
That was my choice. There was an opportunity to set an example as a leader, and I blew it by swinging first. Maybe it still would have ended up in a fistfight, but not because of me.
I let my emotions determine my actions, and it went downhill from there.
Hindsight is a bitch. I should have called Damon or Coach first. I should have been on top of the rookies more.
I should have been talking to them more or warned them about Bell.
I should have prevented this whole situation.
At least then I wouldn’t be losing my C.
And my girlfriend. And possibly my job. I’m beyond screwed.
Walking into our building, we’re a demoralized bunch. Tired, sore, and riddled with regret. The elevator stops on the third floor, and Reedsy and Irish move toward the door. The mournful half-smile Reedsy gives me is more grimace than encouragement. Irish just slaps my shoulder.
“It’s gonna work out, Cap. It might take a while, but it will.” He says in his gruff, low voice. I try for a smile, but I can’t seem to get past a scowl.
“Hang in they-ah, Cap.” Irish rumbles before heading down the hall. Not sure if he’s hanging with Reedsy or lives here now, but it’s not the time to ask.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the assist, boys.” I don’t really believe that, but I’ve got nothing else to offer right now.
“Anytime, Cap.” Reedsy pats my arm one more time before exiting the elevator. I’m a supportive captain, but there’s nothing left tonight.
The door closes, and my shoulders sag. I lean against the railing as another wave of fatigue hits me. Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I fight against the pressure behind my eyes. I just need to keep it all together for a few more minutes.
“You know she didn’t mean it, Liam.” Walker says.
My throat thickens, and I hold up my hand. I can’t do this right now.
“Don’t,” I say as the elevator stops. He closes his mouth and we trudge toward our apartment door.
Walker says nothing as we prepare for sleep.
Thank God. I’m looking for my slides when I remember my duffel is still at Maddie’s place.
Well, it will have to stay there. We both need some space right now.
I spare Ace a quick thought, because no way I’m going for a run tomorrow morning. He’ll be fine for one day.
My phone dings, and I leave it in case it’s Madison. I can’t talk to her right now. Everything is too messy. I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret.
It turns out to be Damon. He sends me a text with the address of the private clinic where they’re treating Austin, along with a reminder about our meeting tomorrow at ten.
The reads two am. Time enough for a few hours of sleep.
I’ve got my alarm set because I want to stop and see Austin before heading to the arena.
I’m not sure I’ll be captain after today, so I want my last act to be worthwhile.
***
Turns out there was no need to set an alarm.
I’m fully awake by six, anxiety and a myriad of other emotions making any kind of sleep impossible.
My eyes feel like sandpaper, my knuckles are throbbing, and my cheek is on fire, even after the ice pack.
I’m in desperate need of Tylenol, hot coffee, and a shower before I’m fit for human interaction.
By the time I get myself sorted, it’s almost eight, which gives me about an hour with Austin.
I grab my Wolves coffee carafe and my protein shake to finish on the way.
The more my mind has to occupy itself this morning, the better.
I’ve already spent the night obsessively thinking about how this whole situation will play out.
My dad’s gruff, matter-of-fact tone rings in my head.
“This is on you to fix. You were the one responsible. You need to take the heat.”
Not one to spare anyone’s feelings, he still managed to impart practical advice and honest criticism without making it feel hurtful or mean. He’s always just honest while throwing in some practical wisdom. As a down-to-earth guy, his advice reflects that.
I’m aware of how lucky I am. I had a front-row seat to the devastation brought on by the death of Walker’s parents.
When someone you know goes through that, it just makes you appreciate your own situation all the more.
So when other kids were complaining about their parents, I was just grateful mine were alive. It gave me a different perspective.
I think through the things I want to say to Austin on my drive. I know exactly how he feels because I’ve been there, so I make a mental list of encouraging things to say.
There’s a guy in scrubs manning the front desk when I arrive.
He checks my ID and verifies that my name is on the visitor list before giving me Austin’s room number.
It doesn’t look like a medical facility, but the pervasive scent of disinfectant is strong.
I could be walking down the hallway of someone’s home.
It’s tastefully decorated with occasional tables topped with lovely floral arrangements, all matching the muted blue and white striped wallpaper.
The tiled floor is practical yet homey, matching the colors on the walls.
Austin’s private room looks like an exclusive hotel suite.
The king-sized bed is adjustable like in a hospital, but it’s made up with expensive cotton sheets and a thick, cozy comforter.
A large flat-screen television hangs on the wall facing the bed.
The machines discreetly monitoring his vitals are hidden in cabinets along the walls to mute their sounds. Even his IV is unobtrusive.
He’s awake, blue eyes stark against his light blond hair and pale face.
Dark smudges beneath those haunted eyes tell me his night was as sleepless as mine.
He’s a shell of the energetic kid I saw two days ago at practice.
Lying on his side, he’s hunched over, making himself as small as possible.
It all hits me like a blow to the chest. I know what this is.
I’ve been here before myself. Drowning in self-loathing and shame.
For a minute, it feels as though I’m there again, just watching him.
Except there wasn’t anyone looking out for me back then.
That pulls me back to the present, because I was there.
Damon was there. And I can be here now. Like my dad was for me.
“Cap” is all he says, refusing to meet my gaze. Silence fills the room, and in that moment, I decide that nothing I plan to say will be right. Instead, I sit down in the chair beside the bed, and I open up the wounds of my past, knowing it’s time to excise them.
“I know you’re feeling like no understands what you’ve been through.” I tell him with a surprising amount of calm.
His head jerks up, and he meets my gaze for the first time. The anguish in his eyes is so familiar it cracks my heart right open.
“I doubt it. Not sure anyone could beat my stupid.” Mortification practically oozing out of him. I hate how much I can relate.
“Not true. Happened to me too.” It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud since I told my dad.
None of us rookies ever talked about it.
The humiliation of it was too painful to admit.
I never even told Walker. But now it needs to be said.
He needs to know he’s not alone. He needs to know he can get past this.
“It did?” I see a glimmer of hope appear as he moves to sit up against the headboard. Progress.
“Yup. Bell and Kaminsky. A couple of other guys that aren’t on the team anymore.” Their names cause his face to cloud with anger, but that’s better than shame.
“I can’t go back, Cap. There’s no way. Everyone saw. Everyone, Cap.” He says in a wobbly voice, face drawn tight even as his hands shake.
“Fuck!” he yells and throws his plastic water cup across the room. It bounces off the wall, knocking the lid loose and spilling a puddle onto the floor. His eyes are glassy, and he looks shattered.
“The thing is Austin.” I use his name because he needs to know I see all of him right now, not just my teammate. “You can go back and you will.”
He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, so I continue because this is what my dad said to me. I was furious with him for saying it, but he was right. I never would have been able to move forward without him.
“You’re gonna go back, even though it’s gonna be one of the hardest things you’ll ever do.
And you’re gonna do it for a couple of really important reasons.
” I use my dad’s matter-of-fact voice because this poor kid’s hurting bad, and he doesn’t need even a sliver of imagined judgment to make it worse.
“First, you’re gonna do it for yourself because you worked your ass off to get here. Because you are an incredibly talented player and because they don’t get to take that from you. You earned that.”
I see him shake his head as if he’s going to disagree, so I hold up a hand to stop him. I won’t let him get down on himself, and there’s more that needs to be said.
“Secondly, you’re gonna do it for this team. Not for Bell, but for all the rest of us. Because we have a chance this year to do something amazing and you’re a big part of that.”
“Pfft. You mean Walker.”
“I mean you. Walker’s a phenomenal player, but he’s only one guy. Which is really the point right? Because not to be totally cliche but there’s no I in team.” He rolls his eyes at that one, but the side of his mouth quirks up slightly.
“Look Austin, we need you. And you need us too. I want Bell off this team as much as you do. I’m going to do everything I can fix that. GM and Coach are well aware of his behavior and I have faith that something will be done. But that’s not the point.”
“Look, not that I don’t believe you, but they haven’t stopped it yet.
I won’t let them do this to another round of rookies, Cap.
I can’t. That’s not the kind of guy I am.
” Now he’s sitting up straighter and sounds more confident.
The kids got more strength than he realizes.
I just need to help him find it. I’m not a bit surprised. You don’t get to this level without it.
“I agree, Camps.” I pause for a moment to see if he’s got more to say, but he just nods.
“So thirdly, Fuck those guys. Fuck. Those. Guys. They don’t get to win, Camps. I won’t let them and you won’t either. That’s not the kind of guy you are.“ I might have gotten loud with that last part, but seriously, fuck those guys.
“Besides,” I add as an afterthought. “No way could you give up hockey. It’s in your blood, like it’s in mine. In all of ours.”
He chuckles, and it feels like somehow I’ve gotten through. There’s an absurd amount of relief and satisfaction in that.
“Yeah, I’m not giving up hockey for those assholes.” His voice is stronger now, and he’s looking me in the eye without flinching again.
His face lights up with that signature smile of his. It’s not as bright as it used to be, but then again, he’s not the guy he used to be, but I’m not letting him get lost. He’s coming back from this because he’s just too damn good to quit, and I don’t mean just at hockey.
We bullshit for a while, talking about hockey and life.
I keep things light, especially after our heart to heart, until I have to leave for the arena.
He’s going home today, but Coach has given him a couple of days to heal up per the team doc’s orders.
I have no idea how bad it was, and honestly, just thinking about it makes me wince.
I’m so much lighter walking back to my car than I was walking in.
I’m starting to realize that he needed to hear about my experience just as much as I needed to tell him.
In fact, it may have been more healing for me at this point.
I’ve used that experience to hold me back from so much in my life, and it’s time for that to stop.