Pucking Around: Chapter 93

“Jake!” I call, running after him. “Jake, what just happened out there? What’s wrong—”

“Go away, Rachel,” he growls.

I nearly run into him as he stops cold in the doorway to the locker room. “Jake, what—”

“What the hell did you do?”

I peer around Jake’s shoulder to see Caleb standing in the middle of the empty locker room, looking at Jake with tears rimming his eyes.

“I had to,” Jake croaks. “Cay—”

But Caleb doesn’t wait. He spins on his heel and limps out of the room.

“Jake,” I say, my hand on his arm.

He jerks out of my hold. “I’m fine, Rachel. Go back out there. The team needs you.”

“Coach told me to check you out—”

“I’m fine.” He jerks his helmet off and slams it into his stall.

I put my hands on my hips, watching him tug off his gloves and throw them down too. “You’re not fine. You’re so angry, your hands are shaking. What happened out there? You just went feral on that guy—”

“He fucking deserved it!” he shouts, spinning around to glare at me.

With his helmet off, the cut on his brow is more pronounced. It’s bleeding down his temple. My gaze drops to his knuckles. They’ll swell up something awful, but I doubt anything is broken. He’d be making a much bigger fuss if he had broken fingers.

“Come with me,” I say, holding out my hand.

“I need to change.”

“You need your forehead to stop bleeding first,” I say, dropping my hand to my side. “You change now, you’ll just be giving the EMs double the bloody laundry to wash.”

He lifts a shaking hand, wincing as he dabs at the cut. “It’s nothing.”

Damn bull-headed Taurus.

“Are you a medical professional?” I say, one dark brow raised. “No. I am. And Coach sent me back here to take care of you, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Now, get your ass across the hall into the exam room so I can clean that cut.”

With a growl, he stomps off. This isn’t my Jake. He’s been body snatched by aliens, I swear to god. He marches across the hall into the small room we use for first aid. Balanced on his skates, he leans against the exam table, arms crossed.

I turn away from him, washing my hands at the sink and slipping on a pair of blue surgical gloves. Then I grab the first aid box. Stepping over to Jake, I set it down on the exam table next to him and start cleaning the wound.

“Take whatever time you need to collect yourself,” I murmur, dabbing away the blood. “But you will tell me what happened out there tonight. As you love me, and I love you, you will tell me what’s wrong with you, Jake…and Caleb.”

“Rachel,” he says on an exhale.

As if speaking his name is a summons, Caleb reappears in the doorway, arms folded tightly over his chest. He glares at Jake. “I told you not to fucking do anything.”

“I had to,” Jake mutters, not looking at him.

“No, you didn’t—”

“First rule in hockey!” Jake barks, brushing my hand away from his brow. “He hit my goalie. You want me to just let that go unanswered? I’m his D, Cay. I have to have his back out there!”

Caleb shakes his head. “You were gunning for Marchand all game. Making nasty checks, pissing him off. You goaded him—”

“I wanted to kill him!”

“Compton!”

We all turn, Caleb slipping just inside the room as Assistant Coach Andrews comes storming around the corner. “What the hell was that?” he barks.

Jake drops his gaze the floor, saying nothing.

Coach Andrews huffs, turning to me. “Is anything broken, Doc?”

I’m still holding the bloody gauze in my hand. “I don’t think so, sir. But I was starting with the head lac.”

“I’m fine,” Jake mutters. “I don’t need to be babied—”

“Shut up and let the doctor work,” Andrews orders. “So, what the hell happened out there, huh? What did Marchand do to you? Cause I was watching you all first period, and you had that guy on your shit list from the word jump.”

“Just an old beef,” Jake mutters.

“An old beef? Judging by the way you were gunning for him out there, you’d think he stole all your damn cattle! Is that it? Did he steal your girl, Compton? Did he fuck your sister and kick your dog? I’m not putting you on the ice again until I know what the hell is going on.”

Simmering with rage, Jake says nothing.

“Did he make fun of your mama?”

“No,” Jake mutters.

“Did he beat you in the draft?”

“No—”

“Then what—”

“He crippled Caleb!” Jake shouts.

An echoing silence follows his words.

“What?” I whisper, heart in my throat.

Jake crosses his arms over his chest. “First game of our rookie season, seven minutes into the first period, Marchand checked Cay into the boards from behind, took him down to the ice and broke his fucking leg. He’s the reason Cay can’t play anymore.”

I suck in a breath. I’ve heard the story, obviously. I just never thought to memorize the name of Caleb’s assailant. I use that term because that’s what he is. The hit was made after play had stopped. He got a major fine for it.

I spin to face Caleb. He’s standing there by the doorway looking white as a sheet, seconds away from a panic attack. “Oh…Cay,” I murmur.

The fire in Coach Andrews cools instantly. “Is that true, Sanford? Marchand made the dirty hit on you?”

Slowly, Caleb nods.

“Well…fucking hell,” Andrews mutters, dragging a hand over his close-cropped scalp. “Alright, look—I gotta get back out there. Compton, I…” He shakes his head. “There’s nothing I can do about the fine.”

“I know,” Jakes replies.

“And we won’t know yet if you’re suspended for any more games…”

“I know,” he says again.

“What do you two need from me right now?” Andrews glances between them.

“Nothing,” Caleb says quickly. “I’m fine.”

But I know my Cay. He’s not fine. He’s drowning inside. I want to go to him. Want to hold him. I need Andrews to leave. I need to be alone with my guys.

“Compton?” Andrews says, one brow raised.

Jake just shakes his head. “Nothing, sir. Sorry I got booted. Caleb being in the barn was messing with me. I thought I had it handled.”

“It’s understandable,” Andrews replies. “That kind of shit is hard to live with. Hard to carry. You’re both good guys,” he adds, nodding at Caleb too.

“Watch him close, Coach,” Jake says. “If Marchand is on the ice, no one is safe. Caleb isn’t the only player he’s sent to the hospital. He’s dangerous. He shouldn’t be starting. He shouldn’t even be in the League.”

“Well, that’s not our call, right?” Andrews says gently. “And plenty of guys get sent to the hospital. It’s the game. All we can do is play our best. Play smart. Protect each other. I know that’s what you were doing. You were just protecting Kinnunen, right?”

Slowly, Jake nods.

“Right, I gotta go back out there. Doc, you good here?” Andrews says.

“Yeah, I got it,” I murmur.

Andrews turns on his heel and walks out, leaving me alone with my guys.

“Cay,” I murmur, stepping over to him.

He goes stiff, flinching away from me. “Don’t.”

I drop my hands, tears in my eyes as I gaze up at his beautiful, tortured face. “Why didn’t you say anything?” I glance back over my shoulder at Jake.

He huffs a laugh. “And what were we gonna tell you, huh? That we’re both still messes over something that happened six fucking years ago? That I can’t fucking breathe when I step on that ice and I know Marchand is on it? That I still have nightmares about that night? Is that what you want to hear, Rachel? You wanna hear how I failed him? How I couldn’t protect him? How I let him down and cost him everything?”

Caleb shakes his head. “Jake—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jake growls at him, tears brimming in his hazel eyes. “I was right fucking there! He had to push past me to get to you! He shouldered me out of the way to make that hit—”

“You didn’t know what he was planning—”

“I was right there!” Jake shouts, a sob caught in his throat.

It tears me apart. I’m open and bleeding with them. I turn, ready to go to Jake, but Caleb beats me to it. He pushes off the wall, crossing the tiny room to stand in front of him. Lifting both hands, he cups Jake’s sweaty face. “It’s not your fault,” he murmurs.

Jake shakes his head, eyes shut tight, as one tear slips down his cheek.

Caleb wipes it away with his thumb. “You couldn’t have done anything. You weren’t close enough. And you didn’t know. The play was over. It’s not your fault, Jake.”

Jake sucks in a breath as he lifts his hands, wrapping them around Caleb’s wrists. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s time to let it go,” Caleb murmurs.

“I can’t,” Jake says on a moan. “I—oh god—can’t breathe—”

Caleb drops his hands to the pads of Jake’s shoulders, stepping in closer, their foreheads all but touching. “Hey—hey—look at me.”

Jake shakes his head, eyes shut tight.

“Look at me, Jake.”

Jake groans, opening his eyes to gaze down at Caleb.

“It’s not your fault,” says Caleb. “I forgive you, because it’s not your fault. There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Cay,” Jake whimpers, dropping his forehead down to touch Caleb’s.

“Forgive yourself, Jake. We have to move on.”

And then Jake crumbles, wrapping himself around Caleb, his sweaty, bleeding face buried at Caleb’s neck. “I watched the hit on Mars in slow fucking motion,” he whimpers into Caleb’s shoulder.

“I know,” Caleb, soothes, his arms around his hulking frame.

“I saw Marchand skate in. I saw the hit. I couldn’t stop it—wasn’t fast enough—”

“I know. I was trying not to watch, but I couldn’t bear it,” Caleb murmurs. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you on that ice.”

“I heard Mars yell,” Jake says, his hands fisting tight to the back of Caleb’s polo shirt. “He cried out in pain, and I heard you in my head,” he sobs. “I was right fucking there all over again. I watched your hit, Cay. I watched your bones break. I heard it. Oh god—I heard the snap like the cracking of a tree branch—”

“Shh,” Caleb soothes, tears streaming down his face too. “There was nothing you could do.”

I’m crying too, standing back helplessly, as they both fall apart before me.

“You lost everything,” Jake cries, his heart shredding into pieces. “And you deserved the fucking world, Cay. You were the better player. Faster, stronger, smarter on the ice—”

“Stop,” Caleb murmurs, his voice twisted with pain. He brushes his hand through Jake’s sweaty hair, still trying to soothe him. “Baby, stop—”

“It should have been me,” Jake cries. “God—it should have been me taking that hit—”

“No,” Caleb growls, grabbing him by the jersey and shoving him back. He’s right in Jake’s face, his own beautiful face a mask of rage. “Never fucking say that again.”

“Cay—”

“Never say it again. I took the hit, alright? That’s all there is to it. We can’t wish it any different. So, you are gonna let this fucking go. We are done reliving that one shitty moment and sharing the awful weight of pain and regret, Jake. I’m so fucking done. No more. Move on with me. Move on with me,” he whispers again, his voice softer. It’s a wish, a plea and a prayer.

Jake’s battered hand cups Caleb’s face as they gaze into each other’s eyes, hazel green meeting brownest black. Jake breathes through parted lips, chest heaving, his face wet with his sweat and tears. “I’m with you, Cay.”

“Jake—”

Before Caleb can get another word out, Jake’s hand snakes around to hold him at the nape as he presses in, kissing Caleb with parted lips. Caleb goes still as stone, his body stunned. Seconds pass before he recovers, his arms going around Jake, kissing him back with the pent-up passion of all his long years of waiting.

I stand back, dazed, heart overflowing, as I watch them find their way to each other at last. Jake is ravenous, groaning his need into Caleb’s mouth as Caleb lets him lead. They’re awkward with their hands, encumbered by Jake’s gear. And their height difference is pronounced because he’s still in his skates. But none of that matters—

“Doc!”

I jolt, watching the guys break apart, as seconds later the new equipment guy comes running down the hall.

“Hey, Doc. They need you up on the bench.”

I spin to face him, heart in my throat. “Why—what happened?”

“Novy just took a skate to the face. He’s bleeding like crazy.”

“Oh shit,” I breathe, glancing over my shoulder to look at Jake and Cay.

“Go,” Caleb says. “I got this.”

Breaking myself away, I rush out into the hall and follow Nate back out to the bench.