Page 29

TWENTY-NINE

jack

“You worthless piece of shit,” my father growls as he winds his fingers tight around my t-shirt.

“Think you can come here whenever you want and use me for everything I have? How’d you even get here? Did your boyfriend drive you?”

The way he says the word “boyfriend” makes my skin crawl.

I pull away, my stomach roiling at the sharp scent of liquor on his breath.

“I didn’t come here to take anything from you. I just needed to grab something from my room.”

“It’s not your room anymore,” he slurs.

“I don’t have a fucking son anymore.”

“Well, I never had a father so it looks like we’re on the same page for fucking once,” I hiss, pushing past him to get to my room.

I quickly rummage through my drawers until I find what I need and stuff it into my back pocket.

My heart pounds, echoing between my temples as I run down the short hallway toward the front door.

It was stupid to come back here but I needed that letter.

Somehow, I’d forgotten to pack it when I went to hockey camp this season, and since I never plan to come back to this shithole, it’s my only chance to get it .

A strong hand grabs me by the back of my neck and yanks me backward.

I stumble into the side of a chair and grab onto the flimsy table next to it.

Then something hard strikes me against the side of my face.

I fall forward, the table collapsing under my weight.

An overflowing ashtray crashes to the floor, ash and cigarette butts spilling over the cracked linoleum.

I put a hand to the side of my face and wince at the searing pain that shoots through my jaw.

Slowly, I turn my head up.

My father’s maniacal smile makes the blood in my veins turn to ice.

My gaze drops to his hand and the gun he’s holding.

“You think you’re just gonna walk away from here and be a superstar without remembering who took care of you all these years?” He sways on his feet, waving the gun in front of my face.

“You owe me, you bastard. And don’t think I’m letting you get away until I get exactly what I want.”

“Fuck you,” I yell, pulling myself off the floor.

“You deserve to die a horrible death for what you put me through. I hope you fucking choke on your own vomit, you asshole.”

I stagger toward the front door, my jaw on fire from where he cracked the gun against it.

“You’re not going anywhere, boy,” he rasps, lumbering toward me.

The crack of a bullet explodes, the fierce sound rattling my brain.

I fall forward, covering my head with my arms.

My chest is tight, blood rushes between my ears as I grab for the front door knob.

Another shot fires and I yelp, pulling the door open.

“You don’t get to leave,” he bellows, following me as my sneakers skid down the concrete steps.

I slip when my foot hits the last one, tripping over the uneven lip in the sidewalk that he never bothered to level out.

I crash onto the ground, my jeans scraping against the pavement when I land on my knees .

He grabs me by the hair and tugs my head toward him.

Then, he points the gun between my eyes.

“You’re the one who doesn’t deserve to live anymore.”

With a sharp gasp, I shoot straight up in the bed.

My skin is slick with sweat, heart thundering so hard against my ribcage that my entire upper body shudders from the force.

I scrape my hands down the front of my face, swallowing hard.

It was only a dream.

Only a?—

“Hey,” Carter whispers, rolling over to face me.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

But I can’t speak.

My pulse punches a hole in my throat and I lean forward with my head in my hands, my breaths raspy pants.

Carter crawls around so he’s in front of me and then he hugs me tight against him.

The backs of my eyelids sting with tears.

I fall against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.

It calms me, settles my soul.

“You’re good,” he murmurs.

“I’ve got you.”

I squeeze him tighter in response because my God, I needed to hear that.

He silently strokes my back, his breath warm against my skin.

“It was so fucking real,” I finally mutter.

“I felt everything all over again, heard everything…”

Pulling away, I see Carter’s pained expression.

“I’m here if you want to talk about it. You can trust me.”

I nod and push my hair back.

“You say that.”

Carter tilts my chin up, gazing at me with concern and a little bit of fear.

“I mean it.”

“Okay.” I let out a deep sigh.

“One night during junior hockey, I went back to my father’s house. I’d forgotten something, a letter my mother left me on the day she took off. It was cold, selfish. She didn’t even say she was sorry for leaving, just that she needed to get away from my father and live her own life without wondering if she was going to live or die. She obviously didn’t give a damn about what might happen to me.” I shake my head.

“I’m not sure how I forgot to pack it because I always made sure to keep it with me. It was always a reminder that I was on my own and I had no choice but to make it to the NHL because there was nothing and nobody else for me.”

Sadness seeps into Carter’s gaze and he laces his fingers with mine.

“I needed that letter. It fueled me before every game and without it, I felt like I couldn’t perform. And performing was the only way I could get away from that hell I left behind. I knew I could never go back there. I had to get drafted or else…” I pick at the edging of the comforter, my eyes dropping.

“Or else he’d kill me.”

Carter sucks in a breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“That night I went back…I found the letter. But he wouldn’t let me leave. Said I owed him or some shit. And then…” I swallow hard past the lump choking me.

“He pulled out a gun. Hit me with it. When I tried to leave, he shot at me. More than once. If he’d have been sober, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Jesus, Jack,” Carter mutters.

“I’m so sorry.”

I let out a humorless chuckle.

“If only that was everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew I had to get out and never look back. I couldn’t take the risk that hockey wouldn’t work out for me. My talent was all I had, and it had to be my future or else I wouldn’t have one. I had nowhere to go, no place to live, nobody to ask for help. It was all on me. And I… ”

Carter holds my hand in between his.

“Take your time. It’s okay.”

“I made a really fucking big mistake that summer,” I say.

“I got my hands on PEDs—fucking steroids—and started taking them.” My heart clenches when I sneak a look at Carter.

“Why would you do that?” he asks incredulously.

“You were amazing. You didn’t need that shit.”

“I didn’t believe that and I was fucking panicked that I wouldn’t get drafted without them. It was so stupid, and I wish to hell I could go back and change things.” I shrug.

“Anyway, I didn’t take them long, maybe a week before I realized it was stupid to risk everything, but by then it was too late. Coach Dalton ordered a drug test and called me in when he got my results. He threatened to report me.”

“Fuck. Did that have something to do with why he was all up in your face the night of the event? Why you were so upset?”

“Oh, it gets worse,” I say.

“He gave me an ultimatum. Told me there was one way for me to save my place on the team and my reputation. He…he made me—” I slowly raise my eyes toward Carter’s, the horror and disgust in his expression making bile rise in the back of my throat.

Dammit, I knew it was the wrong move to tell him all of this.

He’s judging me, he doesn’t understand what I was up against, that I needed to?—

“You don’t have to say it,” he mutters, closing the distance between us as he pulls me into his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry you had to go through all of this. I…I don’t even know what to say. I feel sick that you’ve carried all of this for so long.”

I press my head into his shoulder, hugging him tight.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t understand. I was so scared I’d lose you if you knew the truth. ”

Carter pulls back.

“Hey, I told you I wouldn’t leave you. Remember?”

I nod, squeezing my eyes shut because it’s the only way I can block out all of the ugliness that hovers over me.

“Please don’t.”

“What about Dalton? Is he still trying to hold that over your head?”

“He’s got a lot to lose. Wife, kids. He threatened me the night of the event, told me what he’d do if I ever said anything about what happened. He could crush my career, Carter. I don’t know why he’s all of a sudden so nervous about me coming forward, which I’d never fucking do. But if it ever got out that I used PEDs, I’d be finished. I’d lose all credibility. He helped me get drafted by the AHL, pulled some strings. He’s got me by the fucking balls. And for some reason, he’s trying to scare me, which makes me very fucking nervous. I can’t lose hockey, Carter. It’s all I have. And now with all the shit going on with that video…”

He tightens his grip on me.

“You won’t lose hockey. You’re too damn good.”

“I bet the Oakland management wouldn’t think twice about dropping me if those stories come out. I’m already a liability to them. This would really screw things up. I’d lose endorsement deals, fans. I’d be a fucking joke.”

“You’re going to need to talk to Rex when we get back. If something is going to get out, he needs to know about it so he can be prepared.”

I shake my head.

“Fuck, no. I can’t risk telling anyone. It’ll destroy me. Nobody else can know.”

“I really think you need to get ahead of it,” Carter says.

“Don’t leave anything to chance. Rex is smart. He’ll figure out how to fix things. ”

“No. Fuck, no.”

He rubs the back of my head.

“Lie down and rest. We’ll talk it out in the morning.”

I lie back on the mattress and roll onto my side.

Carter holds me close, spooning me.

He drops soft kisses on my back and shoulder, and for those few hazy moments before I float into a deep sleep, I finally feel like everything might actually be okay…

as long as he’s by my side.