Page 4 of Shattered

“We have a tough fucking game on Saturday, and I need you to be on your fucking A-plus game.” Kal glances over his shoulder to Coach, who is writing something down on the players benches, and then looks back at us.

“Between us, I heard there are scouts coming from the AHL and not just AHL, but the NHL as well.” Kal’s eyes immediately lock onto mine as murmurs and gasps surround me, and my eyes seem ready to pop out of my head.

Why didn’t he tell me this before? He knows how much this means to me. He knows how much I need this, and this is my only way out of this fucking shit life I have. Kal’s eyes slightly wince, and I see the guilt written all over his face. I don’t blame him. I know he held it back for a reason, but this means I desperately need to focus now. Hockey is the way out. Hockey is the answer to escaping a life I’m sick of living. It’s the answer to stop all this pain.

Kal gathers everyone in a huddle on the ice. “Yo, Hawks! Coach’s meeting has overrun so you’ve got me until he’s finished. Let’s do some drills, but I’m putting a spin on it. I want six stations and get into groups at each station. Station one.” Kal points to one corner of the ice rink. “I want lateral hops side to side, Station two, I want you on the blue line, I want you working on your balance. Station three: crunches; Station four: hockey net dips; Station five: shuttle sprints; and Station six: close grip push-ups. When each player has completed the sets, I want you to move to the next station. Set yourself a set amount and don’tbe a pussy. Remember what you’re doing this for.” Kal pauses, his eyes flicking to each of us. “Who are we?” he shouts.

“Devil Hawks!” We all shout in unison. Each one slaps the other on the back before easily skating to their stations.

Dropping myself into my cubby, I let my head flop back and smack against my locker. Taking a few deep inhales, completely worn from the strength and conditioning sets Kal ran us through today. A fresh surge of excitement courses through my veins at the thought of scouts possibly being here on Saturday. My adrenaline spikes, flooding my body with a new sense of anticipation. Hope.

Going pro was never something I thought about as a kid. It wasn’t only a matter of ambition; it was something I simply couldn’t afford to dream about. But once I began playing, it became the most important thing in my life. I remember skating at the community rink, wishing my life was different, wishing for a normal family. Those thoughts still come back sometimes, but then I think of Kal and Tray, skating over to me with huge grins on their faces and Tray telling me how my form was off.

I was ready to quit that day, to never return to the rink. But that’s when everything started to change. The dark cloud that had been hanging over my life started to lift. Kal’s dad got a new job in town, and they moved to Michigan. Kal and Tray quickly became my best friends, and the best part? He loved ice hockey, too. Tray met Kal outside the rink that day, and from then on, we practiced together, always discussing how it would be to emulate the players on TV.

Playing professionally has been our dream for years. We’ve spent countless hours on the ice, pushing each other, dreaming together. And now, for the first time, it appears to be within reach. The dream that once appeared distant is now closer than ever.

“You were killing it out there, Quake,” Tray mutters in his cubby next to mine. He stands directly facing me, his flaccid dick hanging in my eye level as I muster up the energy to undo my skates. This is normal in the changing room. We never hide ourselves away. We’re guys and all friends. However, Tray does this on purpose. He loves getting his dick out because it’s the biggest fucking dick I’ve ever seen. Any excuse and that weapon is waving around, ready to take you out. King is also gay, and he makes sure everyone knows it. He gives no shits what people think of him and to be honest, I admire it. I sigh, sitting up, as King leans against the wall of my cubby. Trayton has the best banter between the three of us. And taunting each other is what we do best.

“I’m not sucking it,” I joke, but keeping a straight face, while I hold eye contact as I punch his stomach. Tray folds himself in half, sucking in a breath after the one I punched out of him.

“In your dreams,” he wheezes while staggering to the showers.

“Bray,” I hear quietly as I attempt to remove my skates again. I worked too hard today, and the ache is already setting in. My arms and legs feel as if they are made of jelly. I sigh again, sitting up, and Kal stands there facing me. He rarely calls me Bray, but the way his eyes cast downward, refusing every contact, tells me he’s feeling guilty about something. Before he can even continue, I put my hand up.

“You don’t need to feel guilty for not telling me about the scouts.” He sits down next to me.

“I wanted to, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up. It wasn’t definite, and this is them getting a feel for us. It’s not themcoming and hoping to sign anyone. I wasn’t even meant to know. I think Coach was going to keep it to himself, but I overheard a phone call and confronted him.”

“It’s cool, Kal. Don’t worry, I will forgive you 100 percent if you take my skates off for me though, my arms are jelly after that practice session. You weren’t taking prisoners today.”

“You fucker.” Kal laughs as he drops in front of me and takes my skates off. Kal never has to feel guilty. Everything he and his family have done for me has always been for my best interests. Kal’s mom is like the mom I wish I had, and his dad kitted me out with the finest hockey gear. I spent many nights and weekends at their house growing up. Even though Kal’s dad is one of the most important board members on Hawksview, I always maintained good grades. I didn’t want to get a position in this college, because I knew Kal. I want to work for it and I did. I still do.

“I need you all on your top form, especially you, Bray.” His eyes soften as he glances up at me. “I need you to control your anger on the ice on Saturday. You need to show them you’re a killer on the ice but a killer that sinks pucks, not fists. Got it, champ?” He smacks my thigh as he takes the last skate off.

“Got it, Cap.” I salute him.

“Go shower, you stink.” He throws his towel at me and spins on his heels, heading for the shower. Honestly, I could lay my head back right here and go sleep, but I need to hit up the gym and get myself in that sauna and steam room to try to loosen these muscles. Otherwise, I won’t be moving, let alone skating on Saturday.

Chapter four

Bohdi

Iforcefully slam my glass on the bar and motion to the bartender to pour me another. Denny told me to get here at eight; I’m thirty minutes early and already on my second drink. Today was good, but despite everything, when the day was over, I still carried the weight of a boulder that seemed impossible to remove. Typically, drinking can provide some relief, but I can’t use it as a permanent escape. Today was my first day; I’m celebrating, right?

Seeing that kid set me back a bit. He doesn’t resemble Jace or behave the way Jace did, but it’s his eyes. They are the exact same color. Similar to mine, but more crystal-clear. It messed with my head. I found myself wanting to know him more: does he enjoy the same things Jace did? My thoughts were all over the place, and I couldn’t help but cringe. This is a fresh start for me. I need to let things progress naturally. It’s expected that I’ll still be thinking about him. He was my nephew, and although there were eleven years between us, he was my best friend.

I find myself fixating on the beer that was brought to me a couple of minutes ago. A sigh escapes my lips as I run my fingers through my wavy hair, now sticking up in unruly tufts instead of neatly styled. Do I really want to drink this and let my mind plague more thoughts of Jace? No, I can’t stand it because it’s torturous and gradually wears me down.

A firm hand grips my shoulder, pulling me back from the dark depths of my thoughts.

“Bohdi, my man.”

“Denny,” I say as I slide my untouched beer his way. “I got you a beer ready.” Denny’s face lights up as he grabs the beer.

“Five-star service, you can stay,” he playfully teases, takes a big gulp, and leaves a white froth on his upper lip before wiping it clean. I gesture to the bartender once more and request a soda.

Denny raises his eyebrow, halting his glass in midair. “Not drinking?” he says before taking a second big sip, leaving the glass more than half empty. This guy can drink.

---