Someone else hurt him. My jaw clenches, molars grinding. If only I could read people, maybe I could’ve protected my friend from himself the same way he does for me.
I flex my fingers again, staring at my left hand, the tattoos stretching.
“Noticed you’ve been compensating a bit during games and practice lately. What’s going on?”
I look up and Coach’s gaze goes from my hand to my face. “Numbness has been acting up more lately, less strength in my hand, too. Taking extra hits every time Henneman fucks up isn’t helping either.”
“If you’re getting hurt during games, why not just sayso and sit a shift.”
“Because another wonderful side effect of my fucked-up brain is I can’t register pain correctly.”
"For fuck's sake!" Beckett explodes, throwing his hands up.
Viktor boops his nose. “Calm down. Don’t need you having a heart attack.”
“You and your friends are fucking impossible. Between Reed and now Knight. Christ, I deserve a pay raise and more time off.”
I can’t help the lopsided smile. But there’s still one thing I’m concerned about. “Are you going to say anything?”
Coach’s brows furrow as he sighs. “Zach, this is . . . you’ve both put me in a tricky situation. But no, I’ll keep this to myself. Don’t need your father coming after me.”
I nod, about to stand and leave, when he motions to me to remain seated.
“And as far as your hand goes, I’m calling in a favor. I have a PT connection who’ll keep things quiet. We’ll get you the help you need.”
“Why?”
"Because you’re my player. And I protect my players."
Viktor grins. "You mean they’re family to you."
"Chaos, keep pushing, and you won’t like how I’m going to punish you when we get home." Coach turns back to me. "Thank you for trusting me. We'll figure this out."
I stand, then head to the door, completely exhausted. Didn’t expect revealing my fucked-up truths would take such a physical toll. But I also feel . . . lighter, like the weight pressing down on me has shifted, even if only slightly.
I glance back at my friend and my coach, at how they embrace even after arguing.
Wish I had someone just for me. Someone who could see past the damage and still want me.
But I’m broken. Permanently. And no one stays with the broken pieces.
Yet another reason I need to avoid Merci.
He stirs something in me, something I can’t begin to explain, but something I know would annihilate me for good if I allowed it to keep growing.
So, hockey, my friends, my routines—it’s all I’ll ever have, which is why I’m accepting Coach Harper’s offer to help too.
Because if I lose my chance at the NHL, I’ll have nothing.
I’ll be nothing.
Chapter 14
Merci
Professor Miller drones on about aggregate demand and supply curves, and I find myself actually paying attention. Not because I'm suddenly a nerd or anything, but because this shit kind of makes sense.
Like how changes in market conditions affect prices and output. It's basically what I dealt with at the Obsidian Rabbit. When demand for certain "services" went up, so did the prices. And when competition increased . . . Well, let's just say I learned to diversify my skill set.
