Chapter 7
CALEB
After practice, I’m standing in the hallway, waiting for Mom’s text to let me know whether she and Daisy are back from swimming yet. I decide to scroll around my socials to pass the time.
It was a rough practice today, not that any have been easy. But I feel pretty good from moving and working. I can handle seeing what the internet has to say to me, and about me.
I keep thinking that if I push myself hard enough physically, maybe I’ll be able to banish my upstairs neighbor from my mind.
But so far, thoughts of Liv are still there, teasing their way into my imagination whenever I let my guard down, like right now.
In a moment of weakness, I find myself typing Liv Williams into the search bar.
There are a thousand results, but none in Bluevale.
I try another app and still nothing. Can Liv really not be on social media at all?
“Whatcha watching, fifty-eight?” J.D. Ridley asks from right behind me.
I want to knock him flat on his butt for being so annoying, but of course I can’t because Coach is right around the corner. And because that’s not the right thing to do or whatever.
Ridley is probably getting a kick out of me being iced out by the guys. We were in high school together and I’m sure my wild swing in popularity compared to his is a real blast for him.
“Nothing,” I growl.
“Come to the bar with us,” Ridley says lightly.
I figure he’s messing with me, but then Jake Rivers comes up beside him. Jake’s wearing a friendly expression.
“I gotta get home,” I tell them.
Even though I’m glad to finally be asked to join the team off the ice, I answer to Daisy first. Always.
Ridley rolls his eyes, as if to say I told you so.
“Nope,” Jake says. “You don’t. It’s team time. We won’t invite you twice.”
I scowl, but he’s right. I need to find a way to bond with my teammates or we’ll never gel on the ice. Things are bad enough now that I’m afraid our line won’t even start.
Maybe that’s why Jake’s relenting and including me tonight. He’s used to being first line, and he wants to keep it that way.
“Let me text somebody,” I tell him.
He nods once and then just stands there, like he’s not letting me out of his sight without an answer.
I send a quick message to my mom.
it’s okay to say no
the guys are asking if i want to go out with them
but i know it’s been a long day and you might need me to take Daisy right away
I’m figuring it will be a while before she even sees it, since I haven’t heard from her yet that she’s home with Daisy. But my phone lights up almost instantly.
Mom
WE’RE FINE. Have fun with your friends!
Classic Mom. I guess I have no excuse to make now.
“I’m all good,” I say to Jake.
“I thought so,” he replies in a satisfied way. “Come on. We’re going to The Barn.”
Not like he really needed to tell me that. There’s no place to go but The Barn, unless this town has changed a lot since high school. Sure, there’s an upscale place on Orchid Ave, and technically you can drink at Kiss & Bell, the family restaurant on Poppy, though you’ll pay a fortune to do it.
But if you want to go to a laid-back spot for a couple of beers and a mountain of apps without worrying about making a little noise, The Barn is your place. I’m not much of a drinker, but I do like their wings.
We head out to the parking lot and Jake eyes me like he’s afraid I’ll drive my car out of town or something.
“You’re coming, Stone,” he says firmly. It’s not a question.
I nod and get in my SUV, glad for a quiet moment to myself after a long practice, even if it’s only to drive to another location where the same guys will probably give me the same hard time.
Jake continues down the lot and surprises me by getting into a black pickup truck that looks like it’s been around the block a few times. I guess Rivers is even more practical than I am.
I know the guys don’t get paid as much in the minors, but most of the players I know got into a nice vehicle before the ink was dry on their contracts.
Not Jake Rivers, apparently.
I file that info away to think about another time.
Too soon, I’m pulling up in front of The Barn. The lot is mostly empty, but that’s because it’s sized for the concerts that come through occasionally—mostly one-hit wonders and 80s bands that are touring because their bank accounts ran dry.
On your average night, it’s just locals coming in to relax, put a couple of bucks in the jukebox, and talk about hockey, whatever the mayor’s crazy plans are this year, or the next big event in the park.
And when I say talk, I mean shouting in argument if you don’t agree with someone, and yelling even louder if you do. The Barn isn’t a library.
I guess it’s as good a place as any to try and bond with this team.
As I turn off the engine, my biggest question actually isn’t about hockey at all. I’m wondering if anyone on the team has even noticed Daisy. And if they have, I wonder if they paid enough attention to see that she has Down syndrome, or they just know I have a kid.
People treat you differently sometimes when they know you have a special kid. It’s something I despise, and I’m really hoping this invitation isn’t out of some kind of weird guilt.
Though based on how much I got hit and trash-talked on the ice today, I sort of doubt that’s the case.
Daisy has been with Mom all week whenever I’m at practice, and I’ve gotten into the habit of going to pick her up and staying for dinner. Dad’s away on a business trip, and Mom likes the company.
Other than the first day I showed Daisy the place, we haven’t made it back to the apartment until after dark.
And at that point it’s almost bedtime, so we’re not out in the yard or anything.
I’ve been hoping to play outside with her this weekend and maybe explore the gardens, so I guess the rest of the team will definitely see us around at that point.
I’ll deal with it then, if there’s anything to deal with.
I lock the car behind me as I head in.
The Barn is an old stone building that’s probably always been a pub.
But at some point, an owner with a little misplaced creative flair put on a tiki-bar style addition.
It was a bad idea. Pennsylvania is rainy and snowy in the winter, so the thatch roof is in near-constant need of replacement. But it’s iconic. I guess.
I stop under the overhang to check my phone one more time. I’d never forgive myself if Daisy were having a bad night and I was out with the guys.
While I’m standing there, I can hear a couple of guys sitting at the tables just inside.
“Yeah, yeah, they’re here,” one guy with a thick Philly accent is saying. “But he never comes.”
“He’s probably afraid,” another second man says.
The others laugh loudly.
Are they talking about me?
“He should be afraid,” Philly accent says again, sounding wounded.
“You lost your shirt on that, huh?” a third guy asks, then laughs.
“This season’s gonna be a train wreck,” the second man says firmly.
“I’m betting on it,” Philly says. “I lost enough money on the championships. He owes me.”
Yeah, they’re talking about me.
It’s not just that I messed up my big chance in the majors. I was playing for Philly when we made it to the championship game for the first time in a long time. It was a pretty big deal. And then I lost my cool with another player and wound up in the box at the worst possible moment.
It’s fair to say that I didn’t just cost myself my job. I cost the team the chance to raise the cup, and I robbed the greater Philly area of the right to call themselves champions.
Now I’m back here and sure, some people fawn over me to my face.
But I’ll bet a whole lot of people are seething. Conversations like this one are probably a dime a dozen in this town.
I would turn around and go home, but I know that the only way out is through. My only path to redemption is with the Stallions.
And besides, what kind of example would that be for my daughter, who will have to deal with prejudice wherever she goes? If I can’t be brave enough to stand up to a little name calling and some hurt feelings, then how can I ever ask her to venture into the world and follow her dreams?
I head inside before I can overthink it and make a quick promise to myself. No matter what anyone says to me tonight, I won’t lose my temper. And if one of these drunk, so-called fans hits me, I won’t hit back.
But that will be easier said than done—anger is already sizzling in my gut.
It’s dim and warm inside. The fall weather in this part of Pennsylvania is too cool for air conditioning, but the humidity makes it stuffy.
Springsteen’s playing on the jukebox, and I can see right away that the Stallions have practically taken over the place. Ridley and O’Connor, another local guy, are playing darts over by the bar. A couple of others are playing pool.
Beaumont’s chatting up a pair of girls, running a hand over his slicked back blond hair while they smile and giggle at him.
One of the girls spots me and breaks off to head in my direction. She clearly knows who I am, and that’s why she’s interested. I recognize it in her quick, steady stride. She wants to be the first one to get my attention.
If she were noticing me for me, she wouldn’t be in such a hurry. She’d stop to see that the guy she was just giggling at suddenly looks angry and sad at the same time. Or she’d just read my vibe and walk away. I pretty much always have a mental do not disturb sign hung around my neck.
Liv didn’t walk away from me, my mind unhelpfully points out.
But Liv doesn’t really like me. She likes Daisy, and she tolerates me. From the beginning she’s been slow to meet my eye, even while she’s bonding with my daughter.
Lovey.
I can’t stop thinking about that moment. Or how I felt more at peace watching Daisy and Liv frost cupcakes than I have in years. When I close my eyes to try and sleep at night, I’ve been pulling up that memory every time.
“Stone,” Sokolov calls to me.