Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(9)

I pause my music and cross the gym. He’s just settling in at the bench press, but he needs a spotter. “Hey, Evan.”

He pulls out one of his ear buds. “Hey.”

“Need a spotter?”

His voice is thick as he responds. “Yeah, thanks.”

I get into position, watching as he adjusts the weight before settling on his back and planting his feet firmly on the floor. He’s a little on the small side for a defenseman, so he’s been trying to bulk up. We’ve been a defensive pair since our first season together. He deserves for hockey to be a happy distraction for him right now, rather than a burden.

I clear my throat after he gets a couple of reps in. “Look, man. You don’t have to worry about what happened yesterday. I deserved it.”

His brown eyes are swimming in tears. Fuck. His mother had been sick for as long as I’ve known him, but I know that just makes it worse in some ways. “At least you didn’t get suspended.”

I take the bar from him as he rests for a few beats, wiping the sweat from his face. “That dude’s an ass. He needed someone to shut him up.”

He sits up, looking around before ducking in closer. “Jean said that Coach wants to make you captain, but last night might’ve fucked it up.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I’m figuring out a way to make it happen.”

“You know Brandon wants it too.”

“Yeah, well, Brandon’s not a leader. Coach will see that.”

Evan settles back into position. “He’s a senior.”

I look across the room, where Brandon and a couple of other seniors on the team stand around talking. Brandon’s a good hockey player, but he’s not great. There’s a reason he didn’t declare for the draft, and why his post-graduate plans include working at his father’s investment firm instead of continuing to pursue hockey. Making it a profession isn’t for everyone, but it’s all I want. All I’ve dreamt about since I was a little kid is playing for the NHL. Being part of a rare brotherhood, no matter what team I’m on. I want to feel the rush of the game for as long as my body will let me. He shouldn’t be captain. I should. I’m talented, the guys listen to me, and I work my ass off to get better each game.

I force myself to pay attention to Evan instead, in case he slips, but my mind is going in a million different directions. It’s ironic, because losing my cool on the ice led to this mess in the first place, but I wish I had the game to sharpen my focus and release some of the pressure I can’t seem to dislodge from my chest. The workout hasn’t helped; maybe I should go for a run. What I’d really like to do is find a hookup. Nothing gets me out of my head faster than a pretty girl wrapping her hand—or even better, her lips—around my dick.

“Yeah, well, I worked out something with Coach,” I say. “I’m doing some volunteer work for him, to help prove I’m ready to be captain.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah.” I don’t bother explaining that it’s basically glorified babysitting.

When Evan wraps up, I check my phone. There’s a missed video call from my father, so I call him back, slipping out of the gym to the hallway.

When he picks up the call, his face is as red as mine must be. He swipes his forearm across his face, pushing back the dark, silver-threaded hair sticking to his forehead. Even through my phone screen, I can see the coloring of his eyes. A clear blue, the same shade as mine and my siblings’, minus Sebastian.

I’m not looking forward to seeing them cloud with disappointment, but whatever. I’m used to it. If he’s calling, it’s because he knows what happened yesterday.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Where are you?”

“At James’. Bex needed help with something in her studio, and he’s already in London for the game against the Saints. Glad that when I played, we didn’t have games on other continents.”

“You drove all the way to Philly?”

“Hey, Coop!” I hear Bex call in the background.

“Your mother came too, but you just missed her. She ran out to get breakfast. You okay, son?”

I resist the urge to shake my head. Last spring, Dad didn’t even want James and Bex to be together. Now, apparently, he loves her enough to help her set up her photography studio? Of course. Even when James messes up, Dad can never stay mad for long. James lost his championship game for Bex, and now he and Mom are already calling her their daughter-in-law, even though they’re just engaged and aren’t planning the wedding yet.

“Fine.” I clear my throat, forcing back the wave of emotion rushing through me. “I, um, had an exhibition game yesterday.”

Dad sits down in what looks like an armchair, heaving a sigh. “Did you get suspended from the next game?”

I was right; he knows about it. I’m not sure how, but he always knows about my fuckups before I have a chance to tell him myself.

“He deserved it, sir. I was defending a teammate.”

He just raises an eyebrow, leaving me to either deal with the awkward silence or babble on about the details. I choose to endure the silence, waiting for him to break first. He doesn’t agree with the NCAA’s no-fighting rule, but that doesn’t mean he’s not pissed that I fucked up in the same way twice now. To Richard Callahan, mistakes are a one-time thing, and making the same one twice is stupidity.