“Oh Ace. Tonight just sucked.” I tell my dog as I go through the motions of getting ready for bed. Ace whines and rubs his head against my leg. At least someone loves me tonight. Even if I don’t love myself.
I’m out of energy to deal with anything else right now, but my bed feels cold and empty when I slide into it, even with Ace curling up against my back. I can still smell Liam’s piney scent on my pillow. I take a deep breath, and then the tears finally flow. I fall asleep with my face still tear-stained, trying to ignore the hole in my heart.
Liam
The car is silent for the entire five-minute drive home to our apartment building. I barely notice because my mind is so noisy. Maddie’s face is all I can see. It was a terrible cross between anger and pain. I wanted to both comfort her and yell at her.
“You’re the Captain, so I’d say this is on you.”
That one hurt. Not because she’s wrong, but because she wasn’t. Thisison me. The problem isn’t so much with what she said, although that was painful. It’s how she said it. There was an edge to it that felt more spiteful than angry. Men have disappointed her in the past, but I’m getting the brunt of it, which isn’t fair. She won’t admit it, but I’m convinced that she’s never fully grieved for her parents’ death. To me, it all looks tied together, but how do I tell her that? Or suggest she see someone about it? Yeah, that won’t go over well. I won’t let this be the end of our relationship, but I’m terrified she doesn’t feel the same. As much as I want to, I’m not ready for that discussion, and I’m not sure she is either.
My meeting with Damon is looming, and that’s all I can focus on for now. I am so screwed. Seriously. They’re going to take away my C. Damon’s quite clearly pissed and justifiably so. I shouldn’t have started a physical fight. That was my choice. There was an opportunity to set an example as a leader, and I blew it by swinging first. Maybe it still would have ended up in a fistfight, but not because of me. I let my emotions determine my actions, and it went downhill from there.
Hindsight is a bitch. I should have called Damon or Coach first. I should have been on top of the rookies more. I should have been talking to them more or warned them about Bell. I should have prevented this whole situation. At least then I wouldn’t be losing my C. And my girlfriend. And possibly my job. I’m beyond screwed.
Walking into our building, we’re a demoralized bunch. Tired, sore, and riddled with regret. The elevator stops on the third floor, and Reedsy and Irish move toward the door. The mournful half-smile Reedsy gives me is more grimace than encouragement. Irish just slaps my shoulder.
“It’s gonna work out, Cap. It might take a while, but it will.” He says in his gruff, low voice. I try for a smile, but I can’t seem to get past a scowl.
“Hang in they-ah, Cap.” Irish rumbles before heading down the hall. Not sure if he’s hanging with Reedsy or lives here now, but it’s not the time to ask.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the assist, boys.” I don’t really believe that, but I’ve got nothing else to offer right now.
“Anytime, Cap.” Reedsy pats my arm one more time before exiting the elevator. I’m a supportive captain, but there’s nothing left tonight.
The door closes, and my shoulders sag. I lean against the railing as another wave of fatigue hits me. Swallowing againstthe lump in my throat, I fight against the pressure behind my eyes. I just need to keep it all together for a few more minutes.
“You know she didn’t mean it, Liam.” Walker says.
My throat thickens, and I hold up my hand. I can’t do this right now.
“Don’t,” I say as the elevator stops. He closes his mouth and we trudge toward our apartment door.
Walker says nothing as we prepare for sleep. Thank God. I’m looking for my slides when I remember my duffel is still at Maddie’s place. Well, it will have to stay there. We both need some space right now. I spare Ace a quick thought, because no way I’m going for a run tomorrow morning. He’ll be fine for one day.
My phone dings, and I leave it in case it’s Madison. I can’t talk to her right now. Everything is too messy. I don’t want to say anything I’ll regret.
It turns out to be Damon. He sends me a text with the address of the private clinic where they’re treating Austin, along with a reminder about our meeting tomorrow at ten. The reads two am. Time enough for a few hours of sleep. I’ve got my alarm set because I want to stop and see Austin before heading to the arena. I’m not sure I’ll be captain after today, so I want my last act to be worthwhile.
***
Turns out there was no need to set an alarm. I’m fully awake by six, anxiety and a myriad of other emotions making any kind of sleep impossible. My eyes feel like sandpaper, my knuckles are throbbing, and my cheek is on fire, even after the ice pack. I’m in desperate need of Tylenol, hot coffee, and a shower before I’m fit for human interaction.
By the time I get myself sorted, it’s almost eight, which gives me about an hour with Austin. I grab my Wolves coffee carafe and my protein shake to finish on the way. The more my mindhas to occupy itself this morning, the better. I’ve already spent the night obsessively thinking about how this whole situation will play out.
My dad’s gruff, matter-of-fact tone rings in my head.
“This is on you to fix. You were the one responsible. You need to take the heat.”
Not one to spare anyone’s feelings, he still managed to impart practical advice and honest criticism without making it feel hurtful or mean. He’s always just honest while throwing in some practical wisdom. As a down-to-earth guy, his advice reflects that.
I’m aware of how lucky I am. I had a front-row seat to the devastation brought on by the death of Walker’s parents. When someone you know goes through that, it just makes you appreciate your own situation all the more. So when other kids were complaining about their parents, I was just grateful mine were alive. It gave me a different perspective.
I think through the things I want to say to Austin on my drive. I know exactly how he feels because I’ve been there, so I make a mental list of encouraging things to say.
There’s a guy in scrubs manning the front desk when I arrive. He checks my ID and verifies that my name is on the visitor list before giving me Austin’s room number. It doesn’t look like a medical facility, but the pervasive scent of disinfectant is strong. I could be walking down the hallway of someone’s home. It’s tastefully decorated with occasional tables topped with lovely floral arrangements, all matching the muted blue and white striped wallpaper. The tiled floor is practical yet homey, matching the colors on the walls.
Austin’s private room looks like an exclusive hotel suite. The king-sized bed is adjustable like in a hospital, but it’s made up with expensive cotton sheets and a thick, cozy comforter. A large flat-screen television hangs on the wall facing the bed. Themachines discreetly monitoring his vitals are hidden in cabinets along the walls to mute their sounds. Even his IV is unobtrusive.
