“And I need to keep my license to live. If you want to fuck up your scholarship, I’m not helping tonight.”
Cal slammed his fist on the counter, and something about the conversation nagged at me. The familiarity of it. The unshed emotions lingering in the words. Why would tonight be hard for him? He won a game… he played well...plus, the guy said pseudo-parent…Fuck.I scrubbed a hand over my face and stared at the ceiling for two seconds.
“Come on, Holt.” I put my hand on his back, a little harder than I should’ve, and dragged him off the stool. “You want to get drunk and risk your career because you’re having a prima donna moment, then do it at my place. It’s next door.”
“Don’t touch me, Reiner.”
Dan narrowed his eyes, and I let go of the kid. “I’m interning with the coach of the hockey team. Former player. I don’t like the guy, but if he wants to get drunk, I prefer he does it away from people.”
Dan grabbed a card from his pocket and jotted something down. “Give me a call if shit goes bad. I’m here until two tonight.”
“You got it.”
“Stop talking like I’m a fucking kid,” Cal said, the emotion fully escaping his voice now. He sounded hoarse and sad.
“Then stop acting like one,” I said, wanting to somehow make his anger at me and not Dan. “You’re not the only one with parent issues, alright? So, we’re going to go to my place, get drunk, and yell at each other.”
He stared at me with anger swirling in his eyes before he nodded. “Fine. Just, fucking lead the way.”
“Wonderful manners. Bright kid, I tell you,” I said to Dan, making him bark out a laugh as I pushed Cal out of the bar and led him to my place. We marched into the living room, and I got two beers out of the fridge. Before I handed one to him, I leveled my gaze. “You can have all you want, but you crash here. If that’s a problem, then you can fuck right on out the door.”
He nodded. “Whatever. Going back to my shitty dorm with my weird-ass roommate is the last thing I want to do anyway.”
I handed him the beer and waited. He gulped until half of it was gone before he looked at me with a sneer. “Why you staring at me like a fucking creep?”
“Dude, lose the stick up your asshole man. Do you enjoy being the most hated person on the team? Seriously. You can have all the talent in the world, but you suck as a human.”
His eye twitched, and he took another long swig, finishing it off fast. He jumped up and went to grab another. I didn’t say anything as he sat back down and chugged. I worried he had a drinking problem and debated how to approach this with Coach. Because it was clear this kid might be a prick but something was going on.
Minutes of silence passed by as I slowly drank mine and watched him struggle with whatever was going through his obnoxiously large head—from ego, not physically large.
“I don’t love being this way,” he said, so quiet I almost missed it. “It’s this weekend. I just… I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin.”
“Parents’ weekend, specifically?” I asked, my own voice filled with emotion. “It’s hard for me too. I lost mine four years ago. It’s just my sister and me, and she’s back east.”
Cal looked up at me, and for the first time since meeting him, he didn’t glare. The ice that was always there melted away, and he looked exactly like a sad, lonely teenager should. “So, it’s just you.”
“Just me.”
“How do you…” he started before cleared his throat and leaned back on the couch. His entire body language changed. He relaxed and spread his legs apart, turning into a human form of butter. “Does it get better?”
“The grief? No. You learn to manage it. I’m still fucking dealing with it four years later. I was going to get shit-faced drunk because seeing all the parents at the game tonight almost made me lose it.”
Cal set his beer down, and his knee bounced. “Last year. It was just my mom and me since my dad took off when I was born. She wasn’t feeling well. Went to the doctor and was told she had three months left. She didn’t make it two. I just… Never got to fucking prepare for it. It was the two of us and…” Cal sniffed, and my entire heart broke into a million pieces.
I had Ryann. I had the team. I had my coach and hockey to heal me.
Cal had… Cal. And that guy next door.
I moved from the chair to join him on the couch. I didn’t sit too close to him but near enough to show support. “I’m sorry. There aren’t enough words in the world to explain how much this fucking sucks. I wouldn’t wish the grief on my worst enemy, Cal. But you need to deal with it. Talk to a counselor or therapist. You’re letting your grief ruin your future.”
He hung his head, and his shoulders shook.
Cal was crying.
My own eyes stung a little at how relatable this was. I’d been there and revisited that grief often. But having people around you… even like Naomi, made such a difference. My voice was rougher than normal when I put a hand on his shoulder. “Want to meet at Dan’s once a week? We can talk about this… or not. We could eat or glare at each other. But from my experience, talking about it does help. I had my team help me every step of the way. The guys could be like that if they understood.”
“Knew I was a weak pathetic mess?” He wiped his face and brushed off my hand. “No. I’m Cal Holt. I’m already drafted.”
