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Chapter Seventeen

Cole

“H ow’s my baby boy doing this morning?” Momma smiles at me before handing me a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, sausage, and some fancy-looking piece of bread.

“I’m not your baby boy, Momma. Kyle is,” I respond, planting a kiss on her cheek and turning toward the table.

Momma has gotten up before the sun every day since I started training camp, making me breakfast and wanting to chat with me about what’s going on. I was worried she’d be afraid to have me around after my outburst a few weeks ago, but Beau was right. She’s just happy to have me home. But please, for the love of God, don’t let him know I thought that he’d never let me hear the end of it. It might also have something to do with my outbursts being few and far between and mostly confined to the hockey rink. There are more than a few of the rookies with busted noses and extra bruises when they leave the rink.

“You will always be one of my baby boys. Get used to it.” Momma takes a seat at the table across from me as I shake some pills, one red and two white, into my hand before popping them into my mouth. “Still in pain?”

I force a smile before shoving the bottle back into my pocket. Serves me right for taking them in front of her. I fucking know better. “A little. I haven’t been taking them as much recently, but I’m due for some strength training again today before I hit the ice. The trainers call it prophylactic pain management.”

I hate lying to Momma, but I can’t let her know the truth. The fact that I need these pills to function. I’m barely keeping my cool these days, the rage boiling out of control more often than not. Not to mention the pain in my shoulder that never seems to go away. The doctor warned that this could happen if I pushed myself, but what other choice do I have? I need to be ready for the start of the season to prove to everyone it wasn’t a mistake to bring me onto the team. That I’m more than just Cooper Hendrix’s little brother, but a damn talented hockey player and an asset to this team.

Momma eyes me skeptically over the rim of her coffee mug, “That just sounds like a bunch of fancy words to me.”

“That’s because It is.” I chuckle, although I know I’m completely full of shit. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to explain my pill popping to someone else. “Basically, it's a way to prevent pain before it becomes a problem.”

“So, they have you take pain medication before you are in pain, to stop yourself from being in pain after training?”

I pick up my fork and shove some eggs into my mouth, hoping to end the conversation before she asks any more questions. “Basically.”

“You weren’t raised in a barn, Cole. Stop talking with your mouth full.” She waggles her finger at me as I give her a mock salute.

Momma has always been a stickler for manners, whether it be something as simple as not talking with our mouths full or swearing. Nothing is too small. It’s too bad she hasn’t figured out that we use those things against her more often than not. Did I need to shove food into my mouth right at that moment? Hell no, but did I do it to avoid having to answer any more questions? I sure did.

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” She shakes her head, pushing back from the table and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. “That makes more sense.”

I don’t respond, choosing to focus on the food in front of me. I can hear her shuffling around the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab something, but I don’t look up. I don’t want her to see the guilt I feel written all over my face.

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. Try is 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. Just hurt from 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’d never —” 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.

My eyes drift shut as I wait for the calming effects of the pill to take over, washing away these feelings of anger and guilt. I should’ve kept my cool with Momma. She was only trying to help, but every time he’s mentioned, the rage ramps up exponentially. Everyone knows this. It’s why they tread lightly when mentioning his name around me, but I need to keep my shit together. That’s why I have the pills, why I need them. To keep the rage below the surface and manageable. Without them, who knows how many more outbursts I’d have off the ice.

The shrill ring of my cell phone fills the vehicle, but I ignore it. I can’t answer. Not yet, not until the rage is under control and the numbness returns. But it doesn’t stop. Whoever it is must have hung up and called again, but I still don’t answer. I can’t. The rage is threatening to bubble over again, but I need to answer the phone and get moving. I pop another red pill, the most I’ve ever taken, but the soothing wave of calm soon follows. Allowing me to breathe fully for the first time since my outburst in the kitchen.

This time, when the phone rings, I answer, already knowing who’s calling. “What do you want, Beau?”

“Can’t I just give my little brother a call to chat?”

“No,” I deadpan, throwing the car in reverse and pulling out of the driveway.

It’s going to take me a little more than an hour to get to the city, one downfall of living in my childhood bedroom, but what other choice do I have? I could stay with Beau, which is definitely out of the question, or buy a place of my own. I have the money, but I’d like to know if I'm going to be here for the long haul before dropping a pretty penny on a condo in the city.

“Whatever. I seriously just called to see how you were doing and find out how practice and training have been.”

Did Momma call him and tell him what happened? It couldn’t have been more than about twenty minutes since I walked out of the house after… what happened. I doubt Momma immediately called Beau and gave him a play-by-play, but it's possible.

“It’s fine. Nothing out of the ordinary,” I respond, choosing my words carefully.

“Is Coach giving you a hard time?”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel, the rage bubbling below the surface, but it remains locked away and under control. “You’re the second person to ask me that today.”

“We are all worried about you.”

I’m so sick and tired of all the fake concern from everyone around me. The only person who may give a shit about me is Momma, but even that is debatable. She probably only cares to the point of when my bullshit might affect my brothers, and then all bets are off. The one and only person to worry about me with no strings attached is gone. It’s been me against the world for so long, I know not to expect anything else.

“Momma is worried about me to a point. I don’t know what you are, and Cooper just wants to protect his investment,” I growl, easing my way onto the highway and slamming the gas pedal down to the floor.

“You’re wrong, Cole. We all care about you. We always have.”

This is news to me. No one cares. They never have. The only thing any of them care about is how Cooper feels. Each one of them is always bending to his will, giving him whatever he wants or thinks he needs. The moment I wanted to take something for myself, I was the one in the wrong. I was the one tearing the family apart. I was the one who ruined everything by making decisions based on what was best for me and no one else. From where I sit, the only person in this entire universe that gives a shit about me is me.

“Prove it.”

I weave in and out of traffic, needing to outrun the pain and anger begging to be released from where it’s been locked deep inside me. I can feel the calming effects of the pills leaching from my system for the second time today. I want it back. I want to be numb again, to be able to focus on anything but the rage. The door of the cage I locked it in is rattling inside me as it pushes and bangs against the door. I need something to replace the calm, to help it all become bearable once again.

“Let us. You’ve been pushing us away since…” His voice trails off as if he’s searching for the right words, but we both know the when he is talking about. “We were kids. When are you going to let us be a family again?”

Why do our conversations all come back to this? I wasn’t the one who ruined our family. I wasn’t the one who demanded everyone bend to my will. It was Cooper. But I’ve spent years being blamed for it, and I’m done.

“I’m so sick and tired of this bullshit. I’m not the one who tore this family apart. I’m not the one who broke us, and I refuse to be the one blamed for it.” I push my hand down hard on the horn as I swear at the person who pulls in front of me, barely missing clipping their bumper as I weave around them.

“What’s going on? Where the fuck are you?” Beau shouts into the phone, but I scoff at his concern.

“I’m on my way to the arena. I have strength training and a fucking assessment with Parker, the god damn overbearing head of athletic training, before the session today. Hopefully, he agrees with Michele and lets me back on the ice.”

“They just want what is best for you. We all do.”

“Again, with this we bullshit.” I laugh darkly as I lean to the side, reaching blindly for the bottle of pills I threw into the passenger seat. “I’m the only one who has accepted the truth about our big brother.”

I pop the cap off the bottle, my eyes flicking between the contents inside and the road. Attempting not to kill myself or anyone else on the road, I shake it and wait for the tablets to hit my tongue, swallowing them down dry. The bitter taste hits my taste buds as I swallow, grimacing slightly at the taste.

“And what is that?”

I can tell by his tone that Beau is getting defensive. He’s never tolerated talking badly about his hero. Not even me. He’s the perfect lap dog for Cooper and will attack anyone who has anything bad to say about him. I’ve skirted around the subject every time we talked before now, but I’m tired of having this fight with him. I can’t be the only one who can see our big brother for exactly who he is: an egotistical user.

“That Cooper isn’t the perfect golden boy everyone makes him out to be. He isn’t selfless or caring. All of that shit is an act to manipulate you into doing whatever he wants. And the minute you make a decision of your own, he throws you away like a piece of trash. Just like he did to me.”

That’s the cusp of all of this. The feeling of abandonment, of feeling like I no longer mattered because I wasn’t following the path that he wanted. That he planned out for my entire life without my permission. My choice of a different path was for me. It was my chance to break the mold and become someone other than Cooper and Beau Hendrix’s little brother. After that day, I felt like people saw me as a person, not just a means to an end. That’s why it was such a shock to my system when I was told it wasn’t true.

“That’s not what happened, Cole. Cooper?—”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Beau. Let the past stay in the past.”

The wave of calm from my pills rushes through my veins as I let my foot off the gas pedal, the need to run from my emotions and painful past no longer pushing me to go faster. My eyes droop slightly. The idea of pulling over and going to sleep filters through my mind, but I fight against it.

“You’re going to have to speak to him, eventually.”

I shake my head as if he can see me before speaking. “No, he is the captain of the team I am playing on. I follow his lead on the ice. Besides that, I have no need for him.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“I do. I’ve spent the last ten years with no family. I have no problem doing it for another ten.”

“We’ve always been your family, Cole. We can be there for you if you give us the chance.”

“A chance to what? Continue to meddle in my life?” I scoff, putting my blinker on and easing into the exit lane.

“He only wanted to—” Beau begins, but I cut him off. I’m so done with this conversation.

“Help. I know. But no one asked me what I wanted. Not you. Not Remy. Not Cooper. You all made decisions about my life without even consulting me.”

“When we found out what happened, what the coaches at Boise were doing to you with the pay cuts and playing time. How could you expect us, your big brothers, to stand by and watch you be treated like shit? You’re an amazing hockey player, one of the best in the league.”

“I didn’t expect anything from either of you. I never have,” I respond without missing a beat before hitting the button on the steering wheel to end the call.