Chapter 14
Caleb
You know that queasy feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you sense that something just isn’t right?
That something is just… off?
You know the one.
It’s that gut-wrenching sensation that arises when you feel that everyone knows something you don’t.
Call it paranoia, raising its ugly head to create some havoc in my brain, or call it fucking intuition. All I know is there is this cautioning voice whispering in my ear to stay alert at all times.
It’s been this way for days now.
No matter what I do, I can’t shake this nagging suspicion that shit is about to go down. And not only do my friends know about it, but they have collectively decided to keep it under wraps, too afraid of my reaction when I find out.
I fucking know something is up.
I feel it in my goddamn bones.
Whenever I walk into a room, everyone just stops talking, as if I could overhear whatever secret they’re keeping from me.
So far, no one has had the balls to tell me—not the coach, not the GM, not my agent, not even my best friend. Though, in all fairness, Nate hasn’t exactly been eager to talk to me about anything lately.
Safe to say, it’s not fun being the odd man out.
The only one who I can count on keeping things real with me nowadays is Roxie.
Unfortunately, I had to miss our session tonight to come to this photoshoot for Sports Spectator Magazine and get my picture taken with the same people who have spent the last week lying to my face—my teammates.
Argh.
I squint against the blinding lights as the photographer signals for us to gather closer like a big, happy family instead of the dysfunctional mess we really are. This photoshoot is taking forever, and the continuous flashing is starting to get on my nerves. I try to focus on the task at hand, but the constant clicking of cameras and the reporter’s incessant questions are not only distracting but also starting to piss me off.
“So, Caleb, how do you feel the team has done so far with Jack no longer in command?” the reporter asks with his trusty recorder held up high, trying to get a good quote.
When I stay silent and throw the bastard a scathing look, Nate quickly steps in and answers for me.
“Jack might not be in command, as you so put it, but this team would not be what it is without him. Every win we’ve achieved so far could have only been possible due to his leadership up until now,” Nate responds smoothly. However, by the tick of his jaw, I can tell he’s just as annoyed by the question as I was.
Nate has never been a fan of the spotlight.
Usually that role would have been left for me to fill. I’m known for being the social butterfly of the team and used to love to run my mouth to the media given the opportunity. However, I’m in no mood to tolerate reporters lately since every question usually involves Jack, so Nate has willingly put himself in their line of sight and taken whatever bullet they aim our way.
I hate to say it, but Nate stepping up and taking charge tonight has actually been a load off my shoulders.
Something tells me if someone were to shove a mic in my face, they wouldn’t like what would come out of my mouth.
As the photoshoot continues, I keep my head down, trying to block out the noise and the flashing lights. The only thing I can’t block out are the ear-to-ear smiles from my teammates. They’re all beaming with excitement since we’re currently holding the number one spot in the NHL Eastern Conference. With only three games left to play, we’re practically a shoo-in for the Stanley Cup finals. Unfortunately, I’m unable to share their sentiment since I haven’t touched the ice in weeks, forced to watch from the sidelines as the Guardians take the lead.
“I think we got it,” the photographer says, pleased with the haul of photos taken tonight.
“We good here?” Nate asks, just as eager as I am to call it a night.
“Actually, I have just one more question for Caleb,” the annoying reporter says, his gaze directed at me. “Do you know if Coach Byrne will keep you on the bench for the rest of the season?” he asks with a smug expression. I clench my jaw, unable to ignore the condescending tone in his voice. “All of Boston would love nothing more than to see the Donovan brothers bring the Stanley Cup home. But seeing as that doesn’t look like it will be a possibility for Jack, do you think your chance of winning such a title on your own merit is no longer possible without his aid?”
Before I can open my mouth to tell this asshole to eat a dick, Nate storms into the rescue again.
“Caleb is a vital part of our team,” he says firmly, shooting the reporter a menacing glower. “He’s a talented goalie, and we’re lucky to have him on board. When the time comes, his skills will speak for themselves.”
I appreciate Nate coming to my defense, but I can’t seem to rid myself of the rage brewing inside me. I’m tired of these reporters thinking they can dictate the narrative of my career and character.
This fucker doesn’t know me.
He doesn’t know the first thing about me.
No time like the present to introduce myself.
“You have been on my ass all night to get a quote.” I point to the arrogant reporter. “You want it so bad? Here it is,” I taunt, throwing both my middle fingers in the air at him. “Here’s your motherfucking quote. Now sit on it and give it a good spin.”
I turn on my heel and storm off the set with my nostrils flaring, unbothered by the cameras clicking furiously behind me.
As I make my way out of the studio, I hear Nate’s voice calling after me. “Caleb, wait!” he says, jogging to catch up with me. “I’m sorry about what went down just now. That idiot shouldn’t have said that to you.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my rage, but to no avail.
“Yeah, well, he didn’t say anything that anyone else isn’t thinking,” I growl, pissed.
“That’s not true,” Nate defends.
“Isn’t it? Tell me you haven’t thought about it. That without Jack, I might as well hang up my jersey since I’m no help to anyone right now.”
“I…” he starts, unable to meet my angry gaze.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” I grimace at his hesitation.
I start to turn around, but he stops me by grabbing my shoulder.
“I’m worried about you,” he says, true fear for what I’ll do next edged in his features.
“Yeah… well… I’m worried about me, too.”
And without a further word, I pull his hand off me and walk away.
“We need to talk,” Piper says the next morning after barging into my apartment.
“What did I do now?” I grumble, wondering if the reason behind her impromptu visit has anything to do with the shitshow that went down last night at the photoshoot.
“Aside from living in what looks to be a frat house, you haven’t done anything wrong,” she says, scanning my apartment for a clean surface to sit on.
“I take it no one told you what happened last night then.”
“Actually, both my phone and my email box are full of messages regarding that little snag, but Nate explained it all to me last night and told me that the reporter was the one out of order. You’re in the clear for that one,” she explains, scrunching up her nose as she picks up one pair of my discarded shorts off the couch with her thumb and index finger before flinging them to the floor.
“Well, that’s a first,” I tease, a little relieved she didn’t show up at my doorstep to bust my balls. “Do you want something to drink?” I ask, remembering my manners.
“I’m not sure,” she replies, still eying my messy apartment with distaste. “Do you have any clean cups?”
“Nope,” I pop the ‘p’ in the end. “But I do have bottles of water in my fridge.”
“That will do.”
I quickly go to the kitchen to grab her a bottle, only to find an even more agitated Piper upon my return.
“Seriously, Caleb, how can you live like this? Don’t you have a housekeeper?”
“Not anymore. Had to let her go.”
“Why in heavens would you do a thing like that when it’s blatantly apparent you need someone to pick up after you?” she reprimands.
Because I hated the pitying looks I got every time I came home.
“Just got tired of a stranger being all up in my business, that’s all,” I explain aloofly, not wanting to get into the real reason why I fired my housekeeper.
“Well, you need someone to come here and clean this mess. This is no way to live. It’s a pigsty.”
“Fine, I’ll tidy it up,” I relent just to shut her up. “Is that why you came to see me so early on a Saturday morning? To bust my chops about my domestic duties?”
“Not exactly.” She frowns. “Have a seat, Caleb. We need to have an adult conversation.”
I would usually tease Piper for saying such a thing since she has always considered me an unruly child, but the seriousness in her tone makes me pause.
“Did something happen to Jack?” I ask, my mind always going to my brother whenever there is tension in the air.
“No, Caleb. Jack is fine.”
Jack is anything but fine.
He’s been in a coma for the better part of two months now.
But I get what she’s trying to convey.
“Okay. Then lay it on me. What’s so important that you had to come to see me on your day off? Shouldn’t you be canoodling with Nichols somewhere?” I ask, pushing the magazines and the dirty clothes off my coffee table to sit in front of her.
“Funny,” she retorts nervously, chewing on her bottom lip.
Shit.
Something is definitely up.
Piper is never nervous.
Which is fucking impossible since the woman has ice in her veins.
“Piper, just come out with it, already? You’re kind of freaking me out right now.”
“They found a replacement for Jack,” she blurts out, tilting my world on its axis.
“What? What did you just say?” I spring up to my feet.
“It’s true, Caleb. They’ve found a replacement for your brother.”
“ They ?!” I snarl, feeling my nostrils flare up. “Don’t you mean your boyfriend and that rich douchebag who bought the team?! That’s who you mean about ‘they,’ right?”
She doesn’t say anything, preferring to nod in confirmation instead.
I frantically pace back and forth, trying to make sense of what she’s telling me.
I fucking knew everyone was keeping something from me. I just never expected this shit.
Though, to be fair, Jack’s current replacement, Mitchell, just wasn’t hacking it.
If the Guardians are winning left and right, it’s because we have one hell of a defense team. It pisses me off that I should have been a part of that defense, but that’s neither here nor there now.
“Okay, let me just wrap my head around this shit for a second,” I grumble, sitting back down again, trying to come to terms with this bomb she just landed on my feet.
Logic tells me that I shouldn’t be so surprised that management felt the need to bring someone from the outside since Mitchell wasn’t cutting it. We’re too close to the playoffs to lose now just because our forward center can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of the team.
Even Jack would understand that shit.
“Okay. Mind wrapped. So lay it on me. Who did they manage to rope in?”
“You’re not going to like it,” she warns with caution.
“Believe me, I’m not going to like anyone who’s about to fill my brother’s shoes,” I retort with a sardonic tone.
“No, Caleb. I mean, you’re really not going to like what I’m about to say.”
My forehead creases at the look of worry on her face.
At first, she was nervous, but now, she looks afraid.
Who the fuck could it be?
“Piper,” I insist, getting restless. “Just tell me who they got already.”
“It’s Bellamy. They signed in Bellamy last night.”
“You have got to be shitting me!” I shout, flying to my feet. “Bellamy Van Rhyne?! As in the New York Mavericks’ Bellamy?!”
“The one and the same, I’m afraid.”
“Who the fuck set up that clusterfuck of a deal?!” I yell in outrage.
When her face reddens in guilt, it’s when I really lose my shit and start shouting, “No! Tell me you didn’t?! Piper, tell me you didn’t help that motherfucker switch sides at the last minute? Tell me you didn’t have a hand in tainting all the hard work my brother did for this team by signing his biggest rival? Please tell me you didn’t?!”
“I did,” she says, squaring her shoulders defiantly as if remembering herself. “He’s the obvious choice. Bellamy was born and bred in New England. It was the Guardians’ lapse of judgment for letting the Mavericks get their claws in him in the first place.”
“Why would they have when they already had my brother?!” I shout.
“Lower your voice, Caleb,” she demands. “I know this is a lot for you to take in, but I refuse to be your punching bag.”
I stare daggers at her, even when I know she’s right.
Piper isn’t at fault here, but she didn’t have to help this shit go through, either.
“I know you don’t see it now, and this is a lot for you to take, but Bellamy will be a good addition to the Guardians,” she tries to explain. “He’s a team player and has a stellar record on his own. His unexpected need to return to Boston on such short notice just happened to work in our favor.”
“What do you mean by that? Why the fuck would he even want to leave New York? I thought they loved him there.”
“Actually, I’ve said too much as it is. I’m not at liberty to disclose such personal information about a client.”
“I’m your client!” I yell in disbelief. “Jack is your client! And you just screwed us! Both of us!”
“I did no such thing, and if Jack were here, he’d tell you as much. I’m just trying to do right by him, by doing right by the team.”
“Not from where I’m standing, you’re not,” I sneer at her.
“It’s true, Caleb. Everyone knows that if it hadn’t been for Jack, there was no way the Guardians could ever have gotten this close to winning the championship and possibly the Stanley Cup. How do you think he’d feel if all of that work went down the drain because he wasn’t there to follow through? Your brother bleeds white and green, Caleb. He’d make whatever sacrifice necessary to ensure the Guardians win. Even if that meant signing a player from a rival team.”
“That’s where you’re wrong—my brother bleeds red. You know how I know that? Because I was the one who saw him almost bleed out in that fucking car that night.”
Her face falls at the reminder.
“Caleb—”
“No, Piper. This is fucked up. I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends,” she says, rising from her seat towards me.
“No, we’re not.” I shake my head. “Friends don’t fuck each other over.”
“I didn’t fuck you over, Caleb.”
“No?” I scoff. “Then why do I feel your knife stuck in my back?”
“Caleb—”
“Nah, Piper. This shit was cold, even for you. We’re done here. You can see yourself out.”
“I see that you’re too upset to see reason right now. And I get that. I really do. So I’ll give you some space, and hopefully, next time we talk, you will realize that all I did was for the good of the team and to ensure Jack’s legacy isn’t tarnished. I came here today because I just wanted you to hear the news from me. From a friend.”
“With friends like you, who needs fucking enemies,” I mumble under my breath.
“Don’t say that, Caleb. I am your friend.”
“Nah, Piper. That ship sailed the minute you went behind my back and signed that asshole to the team. You’re not my friend. And come to think of it, you’re not my agent either. You’re fired.”
Her face blanches at my statement.
“You don’t mean that.”
“The fuck I don’t. You’re done telling me what to do or how to behave. And after I tell Erin what you pulled with this Bellamy bullshit, I doubt she’ll want you looking after Jack’s affairs either. Consider the Donovans officially off your roster. If we wanted to work with two-faced agents, we would have gone to ProStar instead.”
I should feel bad about the hurt in her eyes, but I don’t.
All I feel is rage.
“Now get the fuck out of my house. I can’t even stand the sight of you.”
Like the implacable queen that she is, she takes my shit on the chin and straightens her shoulders to look impassive, but the red tinge in her eyes gives her away—it portrays that my cut is just as deep as the one she made on me.
Piper starts walking towards the door, only to stop midway to turn to face me again.
“I know you’re hurting, Caleb. I know that. I’m sorry that you feel like the world is plotting against you right now. But most of all, I’m sorry that Jack isn’t here to slap some sense into you. You’re not this person. The Caleb I knew would have never spoken to me like you have today. He might have been a pain in my ass, but he was never mean for the sake of it. My friend was kind and sweet even when he acted like a jackass. This man before me isn’t him. And I miss my friend,” she says softly, her eyes welling with tears. “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the annoying cocky asshole you used to be. Where is that guy, huh? Where is my friend, Caleb?”
“He’s dead. Get over it.”
I should feel guilty when she flinches at my cold reply, but I don’t.
Because she’s right—I have changed.
The young, carefree man that didn’t give two shits about anything aside from hockey and partying no longer exists.
He died the day he took his brother’s life.
Just like Piper is now dead to me from trying to steal his legacy.
“When you finally see sense and are ready to apologize, you know where to find me,” she says, head held high even with the silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Don’t count on it.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re wrong. Goodbye, Caleb.”
And with that parting remark, she leaves.