Page 10 of Second Shot

They fucking love me.

But at one point, I glance up and find Jacobs watching me. He’s not smiling. He’s not dazzled. As our eyes meet, it’s as if he sees right through me. His clear blue stare seems to go straight to the center of my soul. My stomach churns and sweat breaks out all over my body.

I think Jacobs knows what a fucking fraud I truly am.

Chapter Three

Gabe

On Saturday, when we get to the hotel in Las Vegas and the room assignments are given, I almost have a full blown panic attack. Teams in the NHL don’t usually have to share rooms, but Coach is one of those coaches that thinks sharing rooms helps the team bond. I usually don’t care about his unorthodox theory because I always room with Kincaid, who I get along with great.

Unfortunately, Coach has decided to change things up.

Much to my horror, Coach has assigned me and Caldwell as road-roomies for the foreseeable future. As I stare at Coach in shock, he explains that Caldwell and I will mesh fasteronthe ice, if we learn to meshoffthe ice. From the look on Caldwell’s face when the announcement is made, he’s no more jazzed about the pairing than I am.

Naturally I can’t show that I’m ready to have a stroke. Instead, I plaster on a smile and nod in all the right places. Then, when Coach stops talking, I politely excuse myself and escape to the restroom off the lobby to have a private meltdown. I slam into one of the stalls and I leanagainst the wall, covering my face with trembling hands.

How the fuck am I supposed to be okay rooming with my childhood bully? Jesus Christ, I did not see this coming. Bile rises in my throat as I try to slow my breathing. Everything was going fine and Coach had to do this to me? Not only is this a bullshit move to just drop on me and Caldwell, but it’s beyond terrifying for me. Caldwell isn’t just another player for me, he’s the person who made my life a living hell for two years.

Shit. I don’t think I can do it.

I wasn’t worried about being around Caldwell before because it was always as a group. I had the rest of the team with me. Out on the ice, toying with Caldwell felt safe. We were mostly at a distance from each other. I felt untouchable. Confident. We’re equals out there on the ice. But off the ice? No, then I’m just Blubber Boy and he’s my tormentor. It completely changes the dynamic if I’m alone with him in a hotel room.

What if he was to suddenly figure out who I am? He could fly into a rage. He might think it’s funny to try and bully me now too. Who knows what he might do to me if he somehow figures out who I am? I break out in a cold sweat, trying to control my breathing. But it takes me so longto calm down Coach actually comes looking for me.

I hear him stomp into the bathroom as he booms, “Hey, Jacobs, everyone is heading up to their rooms. You feeling okay?”

I try to speak but just a croaking sound comes out. Clearing my throat, I try again, “I’m fine,” I rasp.

“You sure? You’ve been in here forever.”

“Sorry. S… something I ate is bothering me,” I lie, wiping the flop sweat off my face with some toilet paper.

“Oh.” He harrumphs. “You got your room key?”

“Yes,” I grate, wishing I had the guts to tell him he’s made a horrible mistake. I want to tell him that I can’t room with Caldwell. But I can’t make myself say the words. If I tell him any of it, then I’ll probably have to tell him all of it. That’s too humiliating. I don’t want to be associated with that pathetic kid back in school. I don’t want any of my team, especially Coach, to see me as that weak, pathetic boy.

“You okay to play tonight?” he asks, for the first time sounding concerned.

“Yes. Definitely. I feel better already.”

“Well, then get up to your room ASAP. Bus leaves for the arena in an hour.” The door slams shut and I’m once more alone.

Once I’m sure he’s gone, I leave the stall and go to the sink to splash water on my face. Staring at my dripping reflection all I can see is the fat, scared boy I was in school. What should I do? What if I get in the room and Ryan suddenly remembers who the fuck I am? Would he attack me? Would he say rude things that make me attack him?

That’s a very real possibility. I have so much anger built up inside of me, I might lose control. If he was to come at me, I’m not that scared little boy anymore. Despite how I feel looking in the mirror, I’m not that kid now. If Ryan threatens me, I’ll punch him so hard his head might cave in. I might accidentally murder him. I won’t let him bully me anymore. I won’t fucking let that happen ever again.

Jesus, I’m so fucked.

I stall a little while longer, then reluctantly, I leave the bathroom. The lobby is empty now. I glance around but don’t see my suitcase and garment bag anywhere. Did one of the guys take them up for me? Maybe Coach? With my luck, someone stole them. Blowing out a shaky breath, I take the elevator up to the third floor where my room is. When I find my room, I stand outside the door for a few minutes. My hands are shakinglike a jackhammer when I slip the keycard in the door.

The little light blinks green and there’s a click as the mechanism unlocks. I feel like puking as I step inside the room. The air conditioner is on, rumbling in the corner and so is the TV. There are clothes strewn across one of the beds, and bottles of vitamins and supplements organized on the dresser.

I hear the shower running as I move further into the room. I see my suitcase next to the other bed and my garment bag is hanging in the small closet near the door. Well, at least my things weren’t stolen. My legs are shaking so I go to sit on the bed.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so uncomfortable as an adult. I don’t know what to do with myself. Should I ignore him when he comes out of the bathroom? Not talk to him at all? Should I go downstairs and just wait for the bus to take us to the arena? I need to change into my suit. I could maybe go to one of the other guy’s rooms, but they’ll be unpacking and getting ready for tonight’s game. Everyone has their little pre-game rituals and I don’t want to fuck with that. Not to mention, they’d wonder why I wasn’t just getting dressed in my own room.

When the shower shuts off my heart starts racing. Gritting my teeth, I stand, facing the bathroom door. Fight or flight is attacking me bigtime as adrenalin pumps through my veins. I clench my fists, muscles tensed for whatever the fuck is about to happen when we come face to face.

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