Chapter 49
49
TOBY
Donnie looks like he’s expecting a two ton anvil to fall through the ceiling and crush him – and he’d welcome it. I look over at Shiloh and the sad smile on his face tells me he already knows where this story is going. I mean, with Lucky’s bitch of an ex-wife involved, I already know it’s not going anywhere good, even if I hadn’t heard what Donnie said back at the club.
“I saw when Rafe put the drugs into Eric’s root beer.”
ERIC? The guy they decided to drug was Eric? OUR Eric?
“I stood by and did nothing as he and another senior practically dragged him upstairs. Easy money, right? I waited for them to come down. After five minutes, I went up to see what the fuck was taking so long to put him in a room and leave. I opened the door and saw…”
I don’t want to hear this. Eric is one of my best friends. He’s family. Hell, he brought me back a slice of my own family with Uncle Robert. I know the gist of what happened to him. I don’t want the details, not unless he tells me himself. In my head, I am trying to think of anything I can to distract myself from hearing this.
Did I run out of toaster pastries at the house? Did Jay steal my Lunchables?
“… the next thing I knew I was in the hallway outside of the door. I could still hear the sounds…”
The disgust on Donnie’s face is plain to see. I missed a lot of the story, but I know enough about what happened to Eric to know that this man in front of me would have never condoned it.
“I remember Rafe spitting on me before he walked down the stairs, leaving me alone on the third floor. Everything is blank from there until I woke up in the hospital the next day. My leg was fractured in two places, my left ankle shattered. My collarbone snapped. My right ulna had broken through my arm, tearing the muscles and ligaments. And I had four broken ribs that the doctors say I was lucky didn’t puncture anything.”
Now, I know I’m not the smartest pup out there, but what in the actual fuck? How much did I miss? Maybe he’ll recap it for me. I just don’t understand why his teammates would have hurt him that much. Didn’t they need him to win more games? Doesn’t that usually keep guys on sports teams safe?
“… tried to get me to rescind my statement to the police. Even some fancy lawyers that I now know were sent by Eric’s father tried to get me to say I didn’t see who or what I thought I did, that my teammates didn’t al most kill me because I told them it was wrong to rape someone.”
Why are all the rich people douche canoes? I mean, not Eric or Lucky or Gramps… but like these fucktwats.
“Before that night, hockey was my life. Those men were my brothers. After waking up in that hospital and having the world turn against me, I grew to hate it all. The injuries I got that night killed any shot I had of ever playing competitively again, but the reaction of the school and the community made me never want to lace up skates at all.
“Even my own parents told me to just keep my mouth shut and find a minor league team to play for. Their exact words were: ‘ We didn’t shell out all that money for you to throw it all away for some fairy boy who was too stupid to watch his drink’ … That was the last thing my father said to me.”
I can’t fucking take it any more. I launch myself off the couch and onto Donnie’s lap, nearly overturning the recliner in the process.
Fuck his parents.
Fuck his school.
Fuck his teammates.
Fuck that fucking brotherhood bullshit mentality.
“You did the right thing. Fuck them. I’m proud of you,” I tell him as I grip him in the tightest hug I can possibly give a man who is taller and wider and infinitely stronger than me. What can I say? The man is built. He is a tree I definitely want to climb.