Page 87 of Penalty to the Heart

If it wasn’t for me, Jack would still be here, and Bellamy would still be a fucking Maverick.

These are the thoughts that keep tormenting me as I lean against a wall in the locker room while I stare the fucker down.

I don’t even move a muscle when Nate calls the team into a huddle to give the captain’s traditional pep talk.

“Alright, team, listen up! It’s going to be rough out there today, but this is our moment, our chance to show the world what we’re made of. I believe in each and every one of you, but we need to play with heart and determination. We’ve trained hard for this. Now, let’s go out there and leave everything on the ice. Remember, we win as a team, and we lose as a team. Let’s show them what we’re made of. Let’s show them we’re the champions! Let’s show up for the fans. For us. For Jack!”

I scowl at the mention of my brother’s name, but apparently, I’m the only one since the rest of the team erupts in loud cheers, making me want to punch them in their stupid double-crossing faces.

After Nate’s speech, I push off the wall and start walking along the tunnel leading onto the rink. Of course, my skates won’t see any action today since I’m still on a fucking timeout.

For the next couple of hours, I sit on the sidelines with my goalie mask resting on my lap, watching the Guardians completely dominate the game. Their shots are on point, their passes crisp, their communication seamless.

I should be happy, proud even, of how well they’re playing. Still, I can’t shake this feeling of anger simmering inside me every time Bellamy scores.

The dynamics between him and the team are flawless, like a well-oiled machine. And that just fuels the bitter fire burning within me. As I continue to watch Bellamy effortlessly glide across the rink, flawlessly fitting in with the rest of the team, the pang of resentment only festers. And as the fans cheer out his name, uncaring that the fucker was wearing the red and black a week ago, my fury knows no boundaries.

Everyone is just too happy, too focused on winning, to notice the turmoil brewing within me.

I clench my fists, trying to push down the anger and frustration bubbling up inside me, but as the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game and another victory for the Guardians, I realize that this resentment won’t be easily extinguished. Quite the contrary. As my teammates cheer and hug Bellamy for a job well done, all I see is red.

I’ll be damned if I let Bellamy overshadow my brother’s legacy on this team.

Something takes over me as I follow everyone to the player tunnel. Once I’m close enough to him, I don’t think, just react.

“Hey, Bellamy!” I call out, coaxing him to turn around and face me, his smile a mile wide.

My elbow draws back, and before he knows it, my fist connects to his face, blood splattering all over the tunnel’s wall.

“Welcome to the Guardians, motherfucker,” I announce with a shit-eating grin.

Chaos erupts as everyone tries to tend to Bellamy, shielding him from the flickering lights of camera phones going off all around us.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Nate protests, pushing me away from Bellamy before I can do any more damage to his pretty face.

“I’ll give you one guess,” I snarl at him.

“Jack wouldn’t want this, Caleb. You know he wouldn’t.”

“How do you know? Jack isn’t here, now is he?” I seethe at my best friend.

Nate’s face turns somber at my words, but he doesn’t have time to say anything else since Coach Byrne is already on us.

“Donovan! Get to the showers! And then get your ass over to Nichols. He wants a word.”

That tracks.

“Whatever,” I grumble, pushing through the tunnel and back to the locker room.

No one gets near me as I grab a quick shower and get dressed, but I can feel their disapproving glares on me.

Fuck ‘em.

What did they expect?

That I would just roll over and let the enemy infiltrate our team?

That I’d welcome the man who is stealing my brother’s spot with fucking open arms?

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