Avery started to take a drink, but he glanced my way, then did a double take and locked eyes with me. “What?”
Oh, shit. Was I wearing my worry on my face?
“Uh.” I cleared my throat and shook my head. “Nothing. I was?—”
“If you’ve got a problem, Halls,” he said with sudden anger. “Just say it.”
I blinked. “I didn’t say a?—”
“Yeah, your face said it out loud.” He slammed the glass down on the table, sending some drops flying onto his hand. “Do you think I need a babysitter or something?”
“What? No! I?—”
“Then why are you side-eying every goddamned thing I drink?” He picked up his glass. “If you’ve got a problem, just fucking?—”
“I don’t have a problem with anything,” I snapped. “But if you’re so damn defensive just because I looked at your drink, then maybe?—”
“Oh, get wrecked.” He took a deep swallow from his glass. He grimaced as the alcohol went down, then glared at me again, renewed fire in his eyes. “If you’ve got something to say, then either say it, or fuck off so the rest of us can?—”
“Hey!Youcame atmesideways, not the other way around, so?—”
“Whoa, hey guys,” Baddy said, alarm written all over his face. “Everybody chill out, okay?”
“I’m chill!” Avery said, the faintest hint of a slur in his voice, and he flailed a hand toward me. “You want someone to chill, talk to?—”
“Hey, hey.” Eminem slung an arm around Avery’s shoulders and gave his chest a firm pat. “C’mon, Calds. Take a breath, all right?”
Beside me, Davis nudged me with my elbow. “Might not be a bad time to call it a night.”
I didn’t get the feeling he was trying to boot me out, just do damage control like Baddy and Eminem were. And he was getting up too, so he was probably going to leave with me.
I didn’t argue. I pulled a ten out of my wallet and tossed it on the table; it would more than cover my soda and tip. Then I left with Davis, pretending not to notice Avery’s angry voice calling out something at my back. At least my heart was pounding too hard and the bar was too loud for me to make out the words. The drunk anger was more than enough.
Davis and I walked in silence across the lobby. Thank God, there weren’t a lot of people out and about this time of night, and we didn’t have to wait for an elevator.
As the doors closed us inside, I sagged against the wall and scrubbed a hand over my face. “Jesus H. Christ.”
“Calds?” Davis asked.
I nodded and turned to my teammate. “Not gonna lie—I’m worried about him.”
“Me too,” Davis admitted. “He hasn’t been himself since…” He winced and shook his head.
Yeah, I could put those pieces together. “It really messed him up, didn’t it? Losing Early?”
Grimacing, Davis nodded. “Yeah. Fucked us all up, but Calds?” He whistled. “Not gonna lie—I was surprised he even made it to training camp. I was sure he was going to take a leave of absence or something.”
Right then, the elevator stopped, and we stepped out into the hallway, but neither of us continued toward our respective rooms.
Gaze distant, Davis said, “Sometimes I think he’d have been better off if he’d taken some time. But then I think about how much hockey and being around the team helped me after the funeral, and… I mean, it’s probably the only thing that’s kept him upright, you know?”
I nodded slowly. “I think it’s the only thing that kept alot of you going.” I hesitated, then added, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know how any of you have managed.”
“We have to,” he whispered. “Early’s gone, but we still have contracts and fans. And the alternative is just sitting at home thinking about how much it sucks that he’s gone.” He worked his jaw for a moment, then cleared his throat, and his voice was a little threadbare as he said, “Early would want us to keep going.”
I nodded again, unsure what to say.
Davis sighed, and his shoulders dropped as he gazed back at the elevator doors. “He’d want us to keep going… but man, what happens if someonecan’tkeep going after that?”
