Chapter 16
Caleb
Bellamy Van Rhyne.
Bellamy fucking Van Rhyne.
If my brother had even the slightest suspicion that his top competitor would be wearing the green and white jersey in his place one day, he’d be as livid as I am.
As I see it, this club is basically spitting on his legacy by replacing him with a Maverick.
And what’s worse is that there hasn’t even been any blowback because of it.
When the announcement was made a few days ago, I was sure there would be some kind of uprise from the fans. However, much to my dismay, everyone is behaving as though this is the best fucking outcome that could have ever happened to the Guardians. Even the media is portraying the acquisition as the coup of the decade, with Bellamy being hailed as the prodigal son returned. One online news outlet even wrote that Bellamy graciously switching teams in the final leg of the conference should be considered as a tribute to Jack. This switch means the Guardians now have a forward center to help fulfill Jack’s dreams of his beloved team being one step closer to winning the Stanley Cup. And the fans are actually buying this shit!
This is so fucked up.
Everyone has lost their fucking minds if they honestly believe for one minute that Jack would be okay with this shit.
Yet, I seem to be the only one lucid enough to see that Bellamy has no place on this team and never will.
I mean, what’s going to happen when Jack gets better, huh?
What are they going to do with Bellamy, then?
But that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it?
No one expects my brother to get better.
They’ve discarded any possibility of recovery entirely.
They’ve lost hope. And I fucking hate them for it. All of them.
I hate Preston for having the deep pockets to make such a trade happen.
I hate Nichols for signing off on it.
I even hate Piper for making the whole deal go down.
There’s so much hate inside me that I feel like I’ll end up choking on it.
Every last fucker who patted Bellamy on the back and welcomed him to the team with open arms is now on my shitlist.
Thankfully, there is one person who knew how hard I’d take the news, and that person is Coach Byrne. He didn’t force me to train with Bellamy and the rest of the team throughout the week, knowing full well I couldn’t stomach watching that shit. So, he left me to my own devices instead and told me I could train solo in the afternoon for the time being.
I was good with that.
The less I saw of Bellamy’s face, the better.
But unfortunately for me, even as a bench warmer, I still had to show up for today’s game against the Pittsburgh Patriots. Thankfully, Bellamy has had the good sense to stay away from me, but every once in a while, I feel his pitying stare.
Fuck him and his pity.
If I had it my way, he’d be on the first flight back to New York.
Not that the Mavericks would want him now.
They’re beyond pissed the fucker ditched them.
I mean, it’s fucking unheard of—a vital player leaving his team right at the pivotal stage of the conference. It’s never been done before, so I wonder what kind of deal with the devil he must have done to get out of his contract and come to play for the Guardians. The indemnity alone must have cost a pretty penny. Millions of the teams’ money down the drain just to get this asshole here. But then again, Lawrence Preston III is the one now holding the Guardians’ purse, which means money is no longer an issue.
And what Preston wants, Preston gets.
Fuck.
The world is changing around me, and I can’t seem to stop it from spinning. To keep it exactly how it was before.
Though in part, I’m the one at fault here. I’m the motherfucker who made this shit happen.
If it wasn’t for me, Jack would still be here, and Bellamy would still be a fucking Maverick.
These are the thoughts that keep tormenting me as I lean against a wall in the locker room while I stare the fucker down.
I don’t even move a muscle when Nate calls the team into a huddle to give the captain’s traditional pep talk.
“Alright, team, listen up! It’s going to be rough out there today, but this is our moment, our chance to show the world what we’re made of. I believe in each and every one of you, but we need to play with heart and determination. We’ve trained hard for this. Now, let’s go out there and leave everything on the ice. Remember, we win as a team, and we lose as a team. Let’s show them what we’re made of. Let’s show them we’re the champions! Let’s show up for the fans. For us. For Jack!”
I scowl at the mention of my brother’s name, but apparently, I’m the only one since the rest of the team erupts in loud cheers, making me want to punch them in their stupid double-crossing faces.
After Nate’s speech, I push off the wall and start walking along the tunnel leading onto the rink. Of course, my skates won’t see any action today since I’m still on a fucking timeout.
For the next couple of hours, I sit on the sidelines with my goalie mask resting on my lap, watching the Guardians completely dominate the game. Their shots are on point, their passes crisp, their communication seamless.
I should be happy, proud even, of how well they’re playing. Still, I can’t shake this feeling of anger simmering inside me every time Bellamy scores.
The dynamics between him and the team are flawless, like a well-oiled machine. And that just fuels the bitter fire burning within me. As I continue to watch Bellamy effortlessly glide across the rink, flawlessly fitting in with the rest of the team, the pang of resentment only festers. And as the fans cheer out his name, uncaring that the fucker was wearing the red and black a week ago, my fury knows no boundaries.
Everyone is just too happy, too focused on winning, to notice the turmoil brewing within me.
I clench my fists, trying to push down the anger and frustration bubbling up inside me, but as the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game and another victory for the Guardians, I realize that this resentment won’t be easily extinguished. Quite the contrary. As my teammates cheer and hug Bellamy for a job well done, all I see is red.
I’ll be damned if I let Bellamy overshadow my brother’s legacy on this team.
Something takes over me as I follow everyone to the player tunnel. Once I’m close enough to him, I don’t think, just react.
“Hey, Bellamy!” I call out, coaxing him to turn around and face me, his smile a mile wide.
My elbow draws back, and before he knows it, my fist connects to his face, blood splattering all over the tunnel’s wall.
“Welcome to the Guardians, motherfucker,” I announce with a shit-eating grin.
Chaos erupts as everyone tries to tend to Bellamy, shielding him from the flickering lights of camera phones going off all around us.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Nate protests, pushing me away from Bellamy before I can do any more damage to his pretty face.
“I’ll give you one guess,” I snarl at him.
“Jack wouldn’t want this, Caleb. You know he wouldn’t.”
“How do you know? Jack isn’t here, now is he?” I seethe at my best friend.
Nate’s face turns somber at my words, but he doesn’t have time to say anything else since Coach Byrne is already on us.
“Donovan! Get to the showers! And then get your ass over to Nichols. He wants a word.”
That tracks.
“Whatever,” I grumble, pushing through the tunnel and back to the locker room.
No one gets near me as I grab a quick shower and get dressed, but I can feel their disapproving glares on me.
Fuck ‘em.
What did they expect?
That I would just roll over and let the enemy infiltrate our team?
That I’d welcome the man who is stealing my brother’s spot with fucking open arms?
They should have known better that I wasn’t going to take that shit lying down.
I grab my coat and walk out of the locker room, only to be met with a swarm of reporters waiting outside, each one bombarding me with their incessant questions.
“What do you have to say for your actions today?”
“What’s your beef with Bellamy?”
“How would your brother react to you fighting with another player?”
“No fucking comment,” I snarl at them and push my way out of there.
Of course, instead of going home like I wanted to, I still have one more stop—kissing Trent’s ass, who is sure to be on the rampage for punching his new favorite player.
However, when I get there, my hackles rise when I see Nichols sitting on the couch while Preston leans against his desk, staring at me head-on.
“You wanted to see me, boss?” I ask, pretending to be unaffected by their hard stares.
“I did,” Preston replies instead of Trent. “Sit down.”
I throw a glance over at Trent, but his blank expression gives nothing away.
“I think we’ve been very accommodating and patient with you and your attitude these past two months, something that you have yet to fully appreciate. That ends today.”
“If this is about me punching Bellamy, then there’s no need to get your panties in a twist. It’s officially out of my system,” I lie. “Scout’s honor.”
“I wish I could believe you,” Preston retorts, his expression cold and unfeeling. “But I don’t. You have put this team in a jeopardizing situation. Not once, but twice. I won’t stand by it and wait for a third.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, my gaze bouncing off from Preston to Trent. “What does that mean, Trent?”
Trent pulls his back from the couch, hands clasped together over his knees.
“You know what it means, kid,” he says despondently.
I shake my head, not believing the shit I’m hearing.
“Consider yourself suspended for the rest of the season. After the Stanley Cup playoffs, we’ll revisit if you are still a good fit for the Guardians,” Preston announces while fixing his cufflinks.
“You’re firing me?” My eyes all but shoot out of their sockets.
“Not yet,” Trent says, the word yet hanging in the air like a curse.
“I can’t believe this.” I jump out of my seat. “You’re going to back up some fucker who just got here over me?”
“No. We’re putting the team above you,” Preston retorts.
“The team?” I scoff. “Right.”
“Do you have anything to say in your defense? Because if you do, now is the time. Think wisely, kid, before you open your mouth,” Trent warns, hoping for me to step up and say something to change Preston’s mind. But I’m so fucking pissed that all I want is to bolt and never see any of their faces again.
“We all have to live with the consequences of our actions, right? I’ll just add this one to the long list of fucked-up things that have happened to me lately. Thanks for the support, gentlemen. Trust me… I won’t forget it so soon.”
And with that remark, I turn my back on both of them and get the hell out of there.
Suspended.
First, they brought in Bellamy, now they suspended me?!
Has everyone lost their fucking minds?!
It’s only when I get home that the severity of what just happened fully dawns on me.
Suspension.
Suspension is the warning shot the Guardians give you before they kick you out and fire your ass.
Aside from Nate, no one has ever survived suspension.
No one.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Everything is so fucked up.
Who am I if I’m no longer playing for the Guardians?
Who am I if not Jack’s pain-in-the-ass younger brother?
Who the fuck am I?
The answer to that question scares me even more than the question itself because I don’t know it. I have no idea who I am without either one.
My world is crashing down on top of me when I hear my doorbell ring.
I walk over on heavy feet and open the door to find Nate standing outside with a six-pack in his hand.
“What are you doing here?” I croak.
“What do you think?” he says, raising the beer in his hand.
I widen the door for him to pass through, uncaring that my apartment is still in a state of chaos.
Nate doesn’t say anything about it, swiping my discarded clothes off my couch to the floor to sit down. He pulls out a beer and hands one over to me.
“I’m not here to give you a hard time, Caleb. I’m just here to drink a beer with my friend.”
I nod, swallowing the large lump in my throat.
I take a seat next to him as we just stare into the abyss, neither of us in the mood to talk.
My head is swarmed with thoughts, each one more depressing than the other.
We’re on our third beer when all of it comes crashing down on me.
The accident.
Jack’s coma.
Erin and the girls barely making it.
My mom’s cold shoulder.
Firing Piper.
Bellamy.
The suspension.
All of it, one shit show after another.
I stare at Nate, who also looks lost in his own thoughts.
“Why are you really here, Nate?”
“Because,” he grumbles with a shrug.
“You need to give me more than that, big guy.”
“Because you’re my friend. Fuck… you’re more than that. You’re my fucking family. And it took me seeing you punch Bellamy square in the face after our win to remember that.” He bows his head in shame. “True friends don’t leave you when shit gets rough. You can curse, wail, and push us away, but family sticks together. No matter what. We’ve all been so wallowed in our own sadness that I forgot you’re the one who has it worse than any of us. Sorry, it took me a hot minute to remember that.”
“I’m not sure what I should say,” I admit, touched by his words.
“That’s why I brought the beers. You don’t have to say anything. Just drink.”
The chuckle that leaves me has no amusement in it whatsoever, but I’m grateful for him to be here.
“Preston suspended me tonight,” I admit.
“I know.”
“You know? Fuck. Well, that was quick.”
“Don’t worry. It hasn’t made it into the media yet. I got the news from Piper. She’s over at our place with Lottie, trying to cool down so she doesn’t kill Trent for suspending you. When I left, she was on the phone with Lawrence, giving him a good piece of her mind, too.”
Guilt presses on my chest, knowing that Piper is still fighting for me, even after I turned my back on her and fired her.
“I really fucked things up, haven’t I?” I mumble despondently.
“Yeah. You did,” Nate states as a matter of fact. “But the better question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” I confess, my voice cracking in the end. “Things have just gotten so fucked up that I don’t think I’ll be able to fix half the shit I’ve done.”
“Look at me, Caleb,” he orders. “It’s never too late to change. And I can say that because I was in a boat similar to the one you are in now. I was a trainwreck last year, and I managed to pull my shit together. And so will you.”
“I’m not you, Nate. I… I don’t know who or what I am anymore.”
“Yes, you do. You’re a Donovan,” he says steadfastly, placing his hand on my shoulder. “You’re Caleb-fucking-Donovan. The best goalie the Guardians ever had. The best friend a guy could hope for. And the best brother anyone could have. That’s who you are.”
“I don’t feel like I’m any of those things anymore. I feel like a fucking loser. I’ve let everyone down. Everyone.”
“Not everyone.” He smiles at me. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“But why? Why are you here, Nate?”
“Because I believe in you. And though it may not seem like it, after everything that went down today, I’m not the only one.”
I stare into my friend’s eyes, astounded that after all the shit I pulled, he still believes in me.
Maybe it’s time I let go of all the shit that no longer serves me, like my anger, resentment, and petty rivalries, and finally grow up.
Perhaps it’s time that I start believing in myself, too.
Just like Jack always wanted.
I turn to Nate, my heart jackhammering in my chest.
“Will you help me?”
“You don’t even have to ask.”