35. Cole
COLE
Ican feel Coach watching me, his eyes tracking every missed shot, every second I’m too slow getting where I need to be.
My head isn’t on the ice. Hasn’t been since last night.
I catch a pass off the boards, lose it on the turn, and have to fight to get it back before Ryan can get on my ass for skating like shit. My shoulders ache, but it’s got nothing to do with practice. It’s from sleeping like crap and checking on Sophie constantly.
Every time I looked over and saw her curled up under the blanket in one of my T-shirts, my chest locked up so hard it was hard to breathe. She looked too small like that. Too young. Too much like every version of herself I’ve ever wanted to get the hell out of that house for good.
That image has been stuck in the back of my head since I left for the rink.
So has Aurora’s face, which sure as fuck isn’t helping.
I haven’t spoken to her since she walked out of my apartment looking like I’d ripped her open with my bare hands. I could act like I haven’t been thinking about that and haven’t felt sick every time her face flashes into my head.
I could also tell myself I’m having a great practice.
Both would be bullshit.
I push off, cut across the zone, and try to focus on the drill instead of all the shit churning in my chest All I feel is anger at the fact that we have a piece of shit for a father and that my sister got hurt.
Anger that I didn’t see this coming.
I should’ve known something was wrong with Sophie before she showed up at my apartment.
I should’ve pushed harder. Called more. Paid better attention.
I should’ve never let things get this far with Aurora.
I should’ve—
The puck ricochets off my stick and skids wide.
The whistle blows again, and Coach lifts his hands. “Ellis, what the hell is wrong with you today?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have the energy.
Logan skates over while we reset the cones, his brows pulling together. “You good? You’ve been off all practice.”
I grind my teeth. “Fine. Just tired.”
Austin drifts up on Logan’s other side and knocks his shoulder into mine. “Aw. Poor guy.” Before I can move, he slings an arm around me. “Need me to tuck you in after practice? Read you a bedtime story?”
I shove him off me. “Touch me again and I’ll put you to sleep myself.”
Austin grins at Logan. “See? He’s fine.”
He skates away, and Logan lingers beside me for a second, his gaze sliding back to mine. “Anything I can do?” he asks.
“No.” This isn’t something he can help with. Nobody can. This is my mess and I need to figure out how to deal with it.
He nods and looks back out over the ice. “I never thanked you.”
That pulls my attention to him. “For what?”
“For keeping quiet about me and Nathan.”
I shrug and keep my eyes forward. “Wasn’t my business.”
“Still,” he says. “I appreciated it.” He shifts his stick in his hands. “That’s why I kept quiet about you and Aurora.”
My whole body goes tight at the sound of her name.
Logan glances at me. “But then you kissed her in front of everybody, so I figured you were together. Officially.”
I don’t say anything. Can’t. My grip on my stick shifts instead, my jaw locking as the memory comes back anyway, the parking lot outside the station, the look on her face right before I kissed her, the way everything in me had eased the second I pulled her in.
For a little while, standing there with her, I’d actually let myself forget everything else. I was so goddamn happy.
But then Sophie flashes through my head and the guilt comes roaring back twice as hard. I stare straight ahead, my throat tight.
“You figured wrong.”
I skate away when Coach blows the whistle, but my head won’t shut up for the rest of practice.
I’m doing a shit job of this. That thought has been clawing at me all morning—since Sophie stepped foot in my place, actually. I wanted her out of that house years ago. Wanted custody. Wanted to give her a good life, but now she’s finally with me, and I don’t know what I’m doing.
Who the hell was I kidding? I can’t take care of a sixteen-year-old. I can barely keep my own shit together half the time. She deserves better. She deserves someone who actually knows what they’re doing, someone who can give her everything she needs without screwing it up.
By the time Coach finally calls it, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of there. I rip off my helmet and head straight for the locker room, because the only thing in my head is Sophie back at the apartment by herself, waiting for me to get home.
I shower quickly, get dressed fast too, stuff everything into my bag, and head for the door.
I only make it a few steps into the hall before Coach’s voice stops me.
“Ellis.”
I stop and look back. His eyes narrow the second mine meet his, taking in my face, probably the lack of sleep written all over it too.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Fine.” I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder. “Just need to get going.”
He keeps looking at me, like he knows that answer’s bullshit. “Something wrong?”
I open my mouth to tell him ‘no’, and keep walking, because this isn’t his business, but I’m so tired. So tired of having to have everything on my shoulders and acting like I have a clue what I’m doing.
“My, uh…” Fuck, why is this so hard? “My little sister’s staying with me,” I tell him. “She ran away from home.”
Coach’s brows lift slightly. “How old is she?”
“Sixteen.”
He nods, then drags a hand over his jaw before letting out a slow breath. “I don’t usually talk about this, but when I was younger, my stepdad used to hit me.”
My brows shoot up.
“He had a problem with everything. Didn’t matter what I did.
” His mouth tightens, his gaze drifting somewhere past my shoulder for a second.
“Sometimes it was because I said the wrong thing. Sometimes it was because I looked at him wrong. Sometimes it was nothing at all.” He drags a hand over his jaw.
“My high school coach used to keep me after practice,” he continues.
“Had me skating until my legs gave out. I used to think he was just an asshole who liked making my life harder.” He lets out a laugh, shaking his head.
“Turns out he knew exactly why I hated going home.”
I don’t say anything.
Can’t, really.
He crosses his arms and looks at me. “I made myself a promise a long time ago that if I ever saw the signs in a kid standing in front of me, I wouldn’t ignore it.”
I already know what’s coming.
Doesn’t mean I want to hear it.
“I see the signs, Ellis.”
My jaw tightens. “I’m fine,” I say automatically. “He can’t hurt me anymore.”
Coach’s eyes narrow a little. “But he hurt your sister,” he guesses.
I swallow, my throat going tight. I want to tell him to mind his own business. Want to tell him I’ve got it handled. But nothing comes out.
Not with the way he’s looking at me. Not after what he just told me.
Coach lets out a slow breath. “I know I’m just some grumpy old bastard to most of you,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly, “but if you or your sister need anything—anything at all—I want you to know that you can come to me.”
I keep my mouth shut because I don’t know what the hell to say to that.
“My wife knows people in the system,” he continues. “I’ve got friends who foster. I’m not saying I have all the answers, but I’m not going to let another kid slip through the cracks if I can help it.”
Something pulls tight in the middle of my chest. I shove both hands into my hoodie pocket. “I don’t want charity.”
Coach shakes his head. “It’s not charity. Everybody needs help sometimes. Doesn’t make you weak, Ellis. It just makes you human.”
Part of me wants to believe him, because I’ve spent so long thinking that needing anybody is a liability, and I just want to cling to the little thread of hope that maybe all this shit doesn’t have to sit on my shoulders.
Coach pushes off the wall and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re a hell of a player,” he says. “And from what I can tell, a hell of a brother too.”
My throat tightens again.
“Don’t let pride get in the way of getting her what she needs.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket before I can say anything. I pull it out and see Sophie’s name on the screen.
Sophie:
Are you almost home? There’s nothing to eat here.
Fuck.
I didn’t go grocery shopping this week, and after she showed up last night, I wasn’t about to let her out of my sight, not even to go to the store.
I take a step back before Coach can say anything else. “I gotta go.”
Coach’s hand drops from my shoulder, but I’m already turning away, shoving my phone into my pocket and pushing through the exit.
The couch is killing my back, but there was no way in hell I was letting Sophie sleep here, so she got the bed.
I’ve got one arm jammed under my head, staring at the ceiling, one foot hanging off the end because the thing’s too short for me.
A busted spring keeps digging into my back, my neck’s stiff as hell, and I haven’t slept properly in two days, but as long as Sophie’s getting a decent night’s sleep, I can deal with it.
Problem is, I’m too wired to sleep anyway.
Every time I shut my eyes, my head starts up again. Sophie. Aurora. Sophie. Aurora. The same shit on a loop.
I know I did the right thing.
I know I did.
Doesn’t stop it from feeling wrong.
Doesn’t stop me from seeing her face every time I close my eyes, or hearing the crack in her voice, or thinking about the way she looked at me like I’d just gutted her.
It feels like since the moment she stepped out of my apartment, my heart and soul went along with her and I’ve just been empty since.
I drag a hand over my face and stare into the dark.
Fuck, I want a cigarette.
I crushed the pack while Sophie was in the shower and dumped it in the trash before she could see it. She’s got enough shit on her mind without worrying about me too.
I roll onto my side and grab my phone off the floor, the screen lighting up the room. I scroll for a while, hoping I’ll eventually get tired enough to pass out.
Instead, I end up on Aurora’s page.