Page 5 of Shattered

“I’ve had a couple. I got some papers to sort, ready for tomorrow; the hangovers don’t leave as quickly as they used to. Turning forty last month, it all went downhill.” The lie and excuse roll off my tongue effortlessly. I even believe it myself. However, that’s not the reason, is it? It’s because I crawl myself into this dark cave where the remains of my shattered soul lie, waiting to feel whole again, but I don’t think it ever will.

“I hear you, brother. My back got strained when I was shouting at my players the other day. Make it make sense.” He sighs while rolling his eyes. I burst into laughter when I think of him coaching and shouting, because it’s not only his mouth involved. Denny expresses himself a lot with his hands and arms.

“How was the first day? Any kids test you. We have some right dicks in that place,” he declares, finishing his drink and signaling the bartender for another. Suppressing a laugh, I shake my head in disbelief. Denny always speaks his mind, but the truth is,those guys are some of his players whom he loves, like his own children.

“Na, they were good. They’re kids. You have to expect them to be dicks sometimes.” My mind immediately recalls Jace at eighteen, sneaking around and causing trouble behind his father’s back. To this day, there are things I saved him from that his dad has no knowledge of. We always kept it as our little secret. Even though you’re not considered a kid at eighteen, boys still behave like children.

“My boys are always dicks, but sometimes I need them to be, makes them play better.”

“Do players often end up with many black eyes?” I question remembering Brayden’s black eye in class. Denny halts his glass in midair, lifts an eyebrow at me, and proceeds to fix his stare on me for a brief moment.

“I am a hockey coach, not a ballet coach. Having black eyes is the least of their concerns,” he utters before taking another sip of his drink. Nodding, I sip my soda.

His face crinkles into a frown as he asks, “Why did you ask that?”

“That kid—Brayden. His black eye was pretty bad.” Denny audibly sighs and nods repeatedly in agreement, acknowledging how severe his black eye was.

“Brayden Anders,” he mutters, visibly unsettled by the mere mention of his name. “The only kid to make me want to hug him and scream with rage all at once.” He sighs again. While holding the glass, he gestures toward me. “This kid will push every limit of your patience.”

“Don’t let him skate rings around you, Boh. If he’s slacking in class, kick him up the ass.” My head tilts back, eyebrows arching up to my hairline.

“When have I ever let anyone skate rings around me, Den?” He brings his hands out in front of him as a surrender.

“Just watch him. Don’t get me wrong, I consider him to be my top player, and I have love for him. He’s an absolute beast when it comes to playing on the ice. His rage can be both detrimental and advantageous, but when it works in his favor, he becomes unstoppable.” He stares absentmindedly ahead, a faint smile forming on his face, as if Brayden’s play is unfolding before him, but then the smile fades away slowly. “Something is brewing beneath him, but not in a good way. Even though he’s quiet around me, I make sure to watch him because the dean shared a few things with me.”

This piques my interest. For what reason? I can’t quite figure it out, but there’s something intriguing about this kid. I want to know more about him.

“What did the dean say?” I immediately question. Denny moves nearer.

“You can’t say anything.” Pausing, he drinks the last of his second beer in the last ten minutes.

“His home life is quite bad. His mom is an alcoholic and drug addict, I believe. He’s also a twin. I know that from one of the other teachers, but I don’t know who or where the twin is.” He shrugs before continuing, “I asked Brayden about him, but he said he decided to work and not continue his education.”

Denny scans the bar as if he has something else to say but doesn’t want anyone to overhear. He leans down and gestures for me to come closer. I lean forward, eager to hear. “I heard from someone that his brother is a drug addict, similar to the mother.” I inhale sharply, and Denny raises his hand in defense. “Now, it could be hearsay, I don’t know, but there’s something in Brayden’s eyes that indicates he’s seen it all. He’s too young to have that expression already. I’m concerned. I try to keep an eye on him, but he’s incredibly withdrawn.”

Denny rubs his eyes before saying, “I need to stop drinking now and take a page out of your book, I think. Soda, please.” He raises his hand to the bartender.

Dread floods my thoughts. A dysfunctional household, with a drug-addicted mother and brother. It triggers thoughts of the one person I never wanted to remember. My nephew’s murderer, my nephew’s half fucking brother. The child, victimized and neglected by his drug-addicted mother and her despicable pimps. His life shaped him into the monster who took my best friend from me.

“To clarify, you’ve never seen the twin?” I’m desperate to understand what’s happening here.

“To my knowledge, no teachers have. It’s quite a mystery. I assume he’s not as smart as Brayden and couldn’t secure a scholarship at Hawksview.” Denny’s frown deepens as he examines the glass before him, as though it holds the answers. I have a thousand questions to ask.

“He’s a scholar?” It’s bad to think this way, but the smart kids typically stand out. I didn’t get that impression from Brayden. Inwardly whistling, Denny tilts his head toward me.

“Not only is he my star player, but he also boasts some of the best grades at the college. Well,hadthe best grades. Something is going on with him. More than it normally is. Lately, he’s been slacking a lot more. I’m requesting all teachers to provide me with a monthly report on him and his work next week. I need him to keep it up. Losing this scholar is not an option, and losing him from my team is not an option either. I refuse to lose him.”

My attention drifts as I nod, my eyes focused on my soda. Too many damn questions and not a single answer. What is it about this kid that compels me to dig deep and reveal the truth by peeling away each layer that he hides himself with?

We don’t need another James in this society.

We don’t need another monster.

“Bohdi, help me, help me!” The echo of a piercing scream fills every corner of my house. It’s Jace. He needs me.

I keep screaming, “Jace!” as I open door after door, but his voice fades with each door I open. Since when did my house have so many goddamn doors?

The longer time moves, panic courses through me. “Fuck!” I scream, finding myself opening doors I have already opened.

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