Chapter 26
Mickey
I slam my stick against the boards, snarling at Peter across the ice. That son of a bitch better watch his back.
It’s been one fucked up week since Soren took Gail shopping, playing house with her, and I left her my parting gift; my laptop preloaded with everything she needs to know to understand that this will never work, that I can’t go down this path again.
Every time I try to think about it, all I hear is Simone’s soft voice, whispering that the baby is mine. But it wasn’t back then, and I’m too damaged to want it to be now.
My vision goes red as I charge at Peter, ready to beat the shit out of him for that cheap shot he took at Soren. How dare that asshole—
“Davis! Off the ice, now!” Coach bellows, grabbing me by the collar of my jersey. I struggle against his grip, desperate to get to Peter, to make him pay. Coach shakes me hard, dragging me off the ice as I shout curses at my teammate.
He shoves me onto the bench, looming over me. “What the hell has gotten into you? Pull yourself together or you’re benched for the rest of the month.”
I drag my hands through my hair, clutching at the roots. My chest heaves as I struggle to catch my breath. Benched? He can’t bench me. I have to play. I need to pound my rage into the ice until there’s nothing left.
Coach sneers down at me. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you, Davis? This attitude of yours ends today.”
Like hell I’m telling him shit. I slump onto the bench and stay there, glaring at Peter across the ice. It’s not like me to lose my cool like this. I’m usually the level-headed one. But after everything, I can’t think straight. I can’t breathe. I can’t even fucking sleep. Rage and panic war inside me, threatening to rip me apart, and all I want is to forget.
Even if it’s just for a little while. But drinking myself into oblivion, surrounded by puck bunnies yet again, isn’t the answer. I haven’t touched any of them, and I’ve pushed every hand away that made a grab for me. They’re not who I want.
Coach sighs, giving me one last warning look before turning away. I drop my head in my hands, dragging in a shaky breath. Just get through practice. Then I can… I don’t fucking know. Go home—to my own house—and… stare at the walls like I’ve done for the past week. Living my best fucking life.
Sawyer slides onto the bench beside me, concern etching lines in his face. “Hey, you doing okay?” I shrug him off. The last thing I need is his pity. But Sawyer persists. “Talk to me, Mickey. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” My jaw clenches as I glare at the ice. At the players darting across it, their blades carve lines through the smooth surface, anything to avoid looking at Sawyer.
“It’s not nothing.” His voice hardens. “You’ve been off for a fucking week now. The guys are worried about you.”
The guys can mind their own damn business. I curl my hands into fists, rage simmering beneath my skin. Then Soren joins us, settling on my other side. I stiffen as his thigh presses against mine, warm and solid. Familiar.
Familiar… family… baby… nope, I can’t fucking cope with this.
“How’s it going?” Soren’s tone is casual, but there’s a weight to his words I can’t miss.
I know he’s fucked up about all of it as well, he just hides it a lot better than I do. Maybe I should ask him for tips so I don’t end up getting benched.
Sawyer sighs. “He won’t talk to me.”
“Is that right?” Soren’s gaze bores into me, but I keep my eyes forward. “Well, when you’re ready to talk, we’re here.”
“Speak for yourself,” I bite out.
Soren’s jaw clenches, a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. “Alright, be like that. But this attitude of yours is getting tiresome, Mickey. We’re your friends—”
“Some friends you turned out to be.” The words burst from me in a growl. Rage boils in my chest, spilling over at last.
The anger at Soren is misplaced, I know that. But I can’t stop it from slipping out when he’s acting like everything is fine, making me feel like I’m the only one going through this shit.
Soren stiffens, eyes flashing with anger. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Or what?” I step into his space, jaw clenched. “You’ll hit me? Go ahead. Maybe it’ll make us even.”
Soren shoves me back, hard enough to make me stumble. “You need to chill the fuck out.”
“Yeah?” I straighten, rage burning through my veins. “Then do something about it.”
Sawyer steps between us, hands raised. “Whoa, hey, let’s all just calm down.”
I sneer at him. “Stay out of this.”
“I can’t do that.” Sawyer looks from me to Soren, brow creased with concern. “Come on, guys. We’re teammates. Friends. Whatever issues you have with each other, we can work through them.”
“Some friendships aren’t meant to last,” I say coldly.
Soren snorts. “You seem pretty determined to burn bridges, Mickey. But go ahead. Be my guest. When you come to your senses and realize you’re making a mistake, the door will be open.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“Give us a minute, Sawyer,” Soren demands, his eyes never leaving mine. “I need to talk to Mickey.”
Our friend looks between us, his brows furrowing like he’s trying to work out the likelihood of us getting into a fight if he isn’t here to stop us. “You don’t need to babysit us,” I spit.
Once Sawyer is back on the ice, Soren turns toward me. “What’s up your ass?”
“Why doesn’t it bother you?” I ask at the same time. “How can you just go on like nothing’s wrong?”
Soren lets out a hollow laugh. “Get your fucking head out of your ass.”
“You seem very interested in my ass,” I observe dryly.
He shakes his head. “This pity party of yours is getting tiresome, Mick. If you pulled your head out of your… ahh, if you looked up for a damn second, you’d see I’m not doing any better than you.”
I quirk a brow. “Really?” I hate myself for how hopeful I sound. This isn’t Soren’s fault, and I really have no right taking it out on him. I just… I can’t seem to stop.
“Yeah, really,” he confirms. “I just haven’t declared war on the entire world. But if you continue like this, you’ll let her ruin everything.”
Swallowing down my immediate need to lash out, I let his words wash over me and take root in my brain. Okay, I know I’ve behaved like a massive dick. “I’m sorry,” I rasp.
The anger I’m feeling isn’t even real. It’s a shield, masking what’s beneath it—what I’m scared of feeling, which is excitement and hope. Two powerful and scary emotions, emotions I haven’t felt since Simone screwed me over. But now, Gail has awakened the feelings inside me.
Soren just waves me off. “Don’t need you to be sorry. I need you to aim your rage in the right direction.”
“Which is?”
“Our opponents,” he chuckles darkly. “Stop fucking getting into a fight with the people who have your back.”
Yeah, even I can admit that’s a shit thing to do. “Right.”
Soren’s quiet for so long, I actually think he’s about to let it go, but of course I’m not that lucky. “She told me you left your laptop for her to look you up.” My breath hitches. “She did, and she’s fucking worried about you, Mickey.”
“So she knows?” I ask.
I don’t need him to answer. As my gaze flicks to the other end of the arena where I see her sitting slumped, I know my answer. She knows.
“Why didn’t you just tell her?”
Shrugging, I try to tear my gaze away, but I can’t. It’s as though my eyes are held in place by an invisible force, a magnet, refusing to let me look anywhere else. “I couldn’t,” I admit, my voice hoarse from shouting at my teammates.
“I get that, Mick. But now she knows and you’re ignoring her. What’s the fucking point in that?”
That’s a good fucking question.
Since I haven’t been back at Soren’s house, instead staying at mine despite the renovations, I’ve only seen her once, which was here, at the arena. And as soon as we finished practice, I left as quickly as possible.
Soren clasps my shoulder before returning to the goal, ignoring Coach shouting at him for taking a break. Then again, Coach only sounds half-mad, so it’s probably more for show. He knows I’m not acting normal, just like he’s aware that Soren’s my closest friend. Even the old man can see that two plus two equals four.
Since I’m benched, I remain here, watching the rest of the practice unfold. I wish I could just take off, but knowing Coach, he’d just drag my ass back here. When he benches someone, he wants them to know exactly what they’re missing out on, which is why I stay right until the end.
“You better bring a better attitude tomorrow,” Coach shouts at me as we all leave the rink.
I throw him a thumbs up as I hurry to catch up with Peter. I grab his arm, halting him in his steps. “Hey man,” I say.
He spins around. “If you’ve come to say you’re sorry, forget it,” he sneers. “Just promise me you’ll treat our opponents worse than you treat your teammates.” His lips twist up into a wry smile.
I force a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of apologizing to you,” I say. “I just came to say you’re lucky Coach broke it up before you ended up on your ass.”
We walk the rest of the way to the locker room together, continuing to take shots at each other, but it’s clear he isn’t holding a grudge, which does make me feel worse.
In the locker room everyone chimes in, and while we shower and get dressed, it’s almost like a free for all on good-natured insults. Soren is having a go at Sawyer, who, in turn, lays into our right winger. But it’s when Peter starts ripping into a rookie, for thinking he can take Sawyer’s spot as starting forward, that it makes everyone burst out laughing. Even me.
After our shower, Sawyer comes over, already fully dressed. “Anyone want to tell me why Gail’s here?” he asks.
Soren and I answer in unison, “No.”
Sighing, Sawyer shakes his head. “Lucia’s going to fucking castrate me. She’s going crazy and wants to spend time with her, but refuses to come here.”
Right, I can see why having a heart-to-heart here isn’t the best way to go about it. Shit, I still have Gail’s phone, and I’m pretty sure I saw her dad call at some point. Ah hell, I really should give it back to her. After all, I’ve already told her—shown her—my biggest secret, my fear.
“I’ll ask Gail to call her,” I say, gruffly. “Make sure Lucia picks up.”
Sawyer eyes me suspiciously. “So, are you guys together or something? What the hell is going on?”
It would be easy to tell him we’ve been seeing Gail since New Year’s, that she is, or was, one of the girls at Cupid’s Court. But since that’s not only my story to tell, I keep that to myself.
“Or something,” I confirm, grinning when Sawyer looks like he wants to punch something. Turning my attention on Soren, I add, “See you at home.”
Then I leave the locker room to go find Gail.