Page 67 of Cheap Shot
The thunk of something hitting the table in front of me causes me to look up. Momma is standing there with a smile on her face, holding a carton of orange juice. “Juice?”
I nod my head, shoveling more food into my mouth. Maybe if I can keep my mouth full, she won’t ask me any more questions.
“How is training? Is the staff being nice to you?”
Being nice might be an understatement. Downright amazing is more like it, but that only applies to Michele. I don’t give a flying fuck about anyone else. Michele and I have been working through my treatment plan, and she’s delivered on her promise. This is the last day of rookie camp, and I’m on track to get back on the ice today. The only things standing in my way are Coach Mercer and Parker, the head trainer. Michele assures me it won’t be an issue, but I can’t help but worry about it. If it were only up to Michele, I could try to charm her into a positive evaluation.Tryis the keyword in that sentence. I know if Michele didn’t believe I was ready, she’d never have signed off on it. I just hate that my future is in the hands of someone else.
I swallow the food in my mouth before responding. “Why do I feel like we are talking about my first week of school instead of training camp for an NHL hockey team?”
She waves her hands dismissively in the air before taking a healthy pull from her coffee mug. “I just wanted to make sure they are treating you well. You were traded from a rival team. It's only natural to wonder if there’s any bad blood.”
“Everything is fine,” I grumble, pushing back from the table and grabbing my plate. “Nothing I can’t handle, Momma.”
“I just worry about you, Cole. You aren’t pushing yourself too hard, are you?”
Saying that this has been the longest week of my goddamn life would be an understatement. I haven’t worked this hard since my actual rookie season, but you wouldn’t know it. On top of doing all the workout and stretches Michele laid out for me in my treatment plan, I’ve worked my ass off to build rapport with the few rookies here at camp, although Jensen and his cronies are still on my permanent shit list. Thankfully, Sammy and Michele run interference, so we’ve had very limited interaction. Too bad that all is going to change when we hit the ice. Other than that, it’s been a lot easier than expected, although I’ve also had help from my little red friends. I keep wondering if I should be concerned that I'm needing to take them more often than usual, but I’m not. Times of high stress mean more pills, and I have stress in spades right about now. I’d probably need to be more worried if I weren’t taking them as often.
“No, Momma. Besides, Coach wants to protect the owner’s investment. I doubt the owner would be happy if he injured me further before they got their money's worth out of me.”
“Cole, no one thinks of you like that, especially if your brothers—” Her mouth slams shut before she can finish her sentence, but I know what she's going to say. If your brothers have anything to say about it.
I inhale through my nose, hoping to calm the rage bubbling to the surface.Not here. Not with Momma. Not again.I repeat those three phrases over and over again in my head.I drag my hands through my hair, my jaw clenched so tightly I can feel the vein near my temple pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
“I’m well aware that Beau and Cooper are the team's golden boys. I wouldn’t even be here if Cooper didn’t call in a favor.” My voice is low, straining to speak each word as my throat tightens.
“That’s not true, baby,” Momma coos, but that damage is already done.
“It is,” I growl, slamming the plate in my hand down on the table. The porcelain explodes into jagged white shards that skitter across the wood and clatter to the floor. I don’t move, the sharp edges of the silence cutting deeper than the shattered plate.
Momma hasn’t moved. Her eyes—God, her eyes. Not angry. Not even sad. Justhurtfrom whatever just happened. I reach for her, wanting to apologize, but before my hand connects with hers, she pushes back from the table and rushes toward the pantry to grab the broom.
The silence in the room threatens to overtake me like a wave, pulling me deeper into the sea as my chest heaves. The small shard of the plate trembles in my hands as I place it gently on the table, not wanting to inflict any more damage. My eyes look over the destruction: my shaking hands have minor cuts from the shards, but nothing too bad.
"I'm sorry." The words tumble out of my mouth, clumsy and cracked. “I’m so sorry.”
I instinctively crouch down to gather the broken pieces of porcelain off the floor. A sharp edge slices into my thumb, causing me to wince, hissing softly under my breath, but I keep grabbing the pieces. Blood drips from the cut, bright and red, onto the floor. A visual representation of the damage I’ve caused. It's nothing less than I deserve.
"Jesus," Momma whispers, crouching down beside me. "Let me. I have the broom. Please don't?—"
“It’s okay,” I mumble, dropping the pieces into the trash bin beside me, still kneeling on the floor like it is some kind of penance.
“I didn’t mean to—I won’t hurt you. I just lost my temper. I’dnever—” I croak, my voice hollow as I continue to grab the pieces off the floor.
“You’re bleeding, Cole.”
“I know,” I respond.
She doesn’t look at me, just pushes a piece of paper towel into my hands. “Go get cleaned up. You need to get going to practice. Don’t want to be late.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I lean forward, planting a kiss on the top of her head before quickly stepping back.
She hums noncommittally, her back to me as she does something at the sink.
“I’ll be late again tonight. Don’t wait up.” I wipe my hands on the paper towel she gives me before throwing it in the trash. The need to go to her, to make sure that everything is okay between us, is gnawing at my soul, but I don’t. Instead, I turn on my heels and leave.
Just like the coward I am.
The minute I climb into my car and turn it on, I pull the pill bottle from my pocket and shake out another red pill, popping it into my mouth. The guys warned me that this would happen, that the more I took them, the more I’d need to maintain my cool. It’s only normal. It’s what is to be expected. I don’t have a problem.
