Line Change, page 22
Thea steps away from me and nods. It pains me to watch her walk away, but I do. I search for Lacey and find her laughing with one of her classmates, oblivious to everything happening around her. And then I look for Ally. She and my mom set up the plates and get ready to cut Lacey’s cake. I head toward them, needing to speak to Ally. There’s more to the story, to what happened here, and I want answers. I don’t want to wait because whatever’s going on affects me in more ways than one. I just told my girlfriend to leave because she caused this, but so did Ally and her damn secrets.
When I get to the table, I touch Ally lightly on her arm and motion her to follow me. Right now, I hate my life. I hate that I’m the protector, that I’m the one who has to fix everything. Ally and my mom push things aside and live with the idea I will take care of whatever the problem is. I’m tired of it, and I want out.
“Spill,” I say to my sister. “I want to hear it all, or I’m walking out of here and never coming back.” It’s a threat, but one I will never follow through on because of Lacey. If she weren’t in the picture, I would’ve been gone a long time ago.
Ally inhales deeply and then nods. “Austin Nelson is Lacey’s father. We dated for a bit, it was off and on, and then right after I found out I was pregnant, everything went south, and fast.”
“Where’s Austin?” I ask. “Is he the kid in jail?”
Ally nods. “After he got locked up, his dad visited me. He told me to keep my mouth shut about who Lacey’s father is—if his son was even her father. He said I’m nothing more than trailer-park trash and I’d never see a dime of the Nelson fortune if I even hinted at Austin being Lacey’s dad. He told me he had the money to take my child away from me and make my life hell.” Ally wipes away her fallen tears.
“Have you spoken to Austin?”
She shakes her head. “Not since he called me the night he was arrested.” She pauses and gathers herself. “The day everything went down, I was working as a receptionist. Austin called me and told me he had been busted for dealing. I knew he supplied the construction workers on his dad’s job sites, but he told me to mind my own business, so I did. About a week later, I was out on the street because my name wasn’t on the lease, and his dad refused to help, even after I told him I was pregnant. And then, a few days later, while I was packing my belongings into my car, he came up to me in the parking lot of the complex we lived in and said those things. So, I listened. I packed what I could and headed back to Mom's.”
Ally leans into me and cries. “I don’t even know how he found out we were here or why he showed up. I haven’t told a soul about Austin, ever.”
“He found you because of Thea,” I tell her. Ally stiffens in my arms. “I’m sorry I ever brought her into our lives.”
The last place I want to be right now is on the ice. We’re down by two goals, both resulting from power plays when I was sent to the sin bin. All night, this jackass has jawed in my ear, saying shit to piss me off. I get it, it’s a normal tactic, but tonight is not the night to fuck with me. I should’ve told Coach I couldn’t skate, but it would have to be a cold day in hell for me to utter those words. For as long as I can remember, hockey has been my life. The rink is usually the one place where I can escape everything, but not tonight. As soon as I walked into the locker room, Jude was on my ass for making his sister cry. Fuck him. And fuck her. She put my niece in harm's way. She continued to see her ex behind my back, even going as far as to ask my permission to hang out with him. I must be some kind of idiot.
The line switches, and I head off the ice. “Rose, do you plan on playing tonight, or are you just wasting space on the ice?” Coach asks. I don’t answer because there isn’t a good one to give. “Answer me,” he says as he whacks my helmet. I stand and face him. Even without skates on, I’m taller than him, and right now, I tower over him.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Get the fuck off my bench,” he yells and points toward the door which leads to our locker room. I do as he says without hesitating, with no questions asked. I don’t bother showering, and I don’t even wait for the game to end before I’m out the door and heading toward my car. Thea’s voice rings out from behind me. I ignore her and continue to my car, lengthening my stride to get away from her.
“Kyler, please.”
She can beg all she wants. I’m not stopping. I reach my car and get it, locking the door as I start the engine. My headlights flash on Thea just as I pull out of the parking spot. One look into my rear-view mirror, and I see her standing in the middle of the lot, watching me drive away. I’m not wrong in how I feel. I told her from the get-go I don’t let people into my life because I don’t trust them. I made the mistake of trusting her, only to be let down. Lesson learned.
Instead of going home where I know Thea and the others can find me, I drive toward the southside of town to the warehouse hosting tonight’s fights. Throughout my very short relationship with Thea, she begged me to stop. I’m glad I didn’t listen because I need to hit something or someone tonight.
I check in at the desk and then maneuver myself to the front of the makeshift ring, which is just hundreds of men gathered in a circle. The two fighting now are circling each other. When one threatens a punch, the other steps back. This goes on for a good five minutes until someone from the crowd pushes one of the fighters into the other, and then it’s on. I pretend it’s me and practice my moves with each punch thrown. It’s not like we’re professionals or anything. We’re just a bunch of dumb fuckers looking for excitement and to make a few extra bucks.
There’s a tap on my shoulder, and when I turn, the “owner” beckons me to follow him. We end up in a corner, and he tells me I’m next. I agree and take off my shoes and shirt. I’m thankful I wore shorts out of the locker room because fighting in jeans sucks. I need as much movement as I can get.
When the current bout ends, I step onto the old gym mats someone brings with them to each fight. They’re caked with dried blood, they’re ripped, and most of the padding is gone. They’re used to prevent skulls from breaking open when someone falls.
The guy before me sizes me up. I let him. He’s a bit shorter than me, and his arms are stubby, giving me a reach advantage. I roll my shoulders, put my hands up and march toward him. He swings and connects, stunning me. And it’s in this moment where I decide I need the pain, and I allow him to pummel the shit out of me until I blackout.
There’s noise all around me. Someone is talking fast while something is poking me. I hear cops, bushes, and then I feel something cold against my leg. A bright light shines in my eyes, and I try to bat it away, but my arms won’t move. I’m trapped. I want to move my head away, but something holds it in place. But what?
I moan. It’s the only thing I can do.
“Can you hear me?” a voice says.
Another moan.
“You’re going to be okay. You’re on the way to the hospital.”
Another moan.
“I know you’re in pain, but we’re going to take care of you. Just hang tight. We’re almost to the hospital.”
Moan.
“I wish you’d wake up and tell me your name,” the voice says. “I’d like to call your family and let them know where they can find you. I’m sure they’re worried.”
No one cares about me.
“All right, my friend, we are here. Let’s get your fixed up.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Something is pinching my hand. It hurts and is annoying. I reach for whatever it is and then cry out in pain. My eyes open, and my hand instantly goes to my head, and then I cry out again. I take on my second fight of the night, this time with my consciousness, but quickly lose that one as well.
“Good morning,” a man in blue scrubs says to me. I glance at him with blurred vision.
“Morning.” My voice is raspy. “Where am I?”
“Northport General,” he says. “You were brought in my ambulance two nights ago.”
“Two nights?”
“Yep, it seems you were mugged and left on the side of the road.”
“Mugged?”
“What’s your name?”
“Kyler,” I say. “Rose.”
“Great, now we can put a name on your chart and stop calling you John. You definitely don’t look like a John, but I imagine you don’t look much like a Kyler either at the moment.” He flashes his light into my eyes, and I close them.
“Everything hurts.”
“I imagine. You took a beating, but nothing is broken. We’ll keep you for another night, and then you can go home. Is there anyone I can call for you?”
I start to shake my head, but it hurts too much. The nurse nods as if he understands and tells me he’ll be back with some pain meds for me. When he returns, he puts something in my IV, and it’s a welcome relief. It takes about five seconds to knock me out.
When I wake again, the same nurse is in my room. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I say as I try to sit up. I wince and struggle through the pain.
“The doctor has been in a few times to check your vitals. Your scans don’t show any internal damage. You’re very lucky.”
“Yeah.”
“The police will be by later to file a report.”
I nod but know I won’t file anything. “Can I eat?”
“I’ll have lunch brought in.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Four days now,” he says.
Four days.
“Is there anyone I can call?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”
He nods and leaves.
I’m flipping through the TV channels while picking at my lunch when my door opens. If ever there was a time to call for a nurse, it’s now. Standing at the foot of my bed is Adam Nelson.
“What the fuck do you want?”
He smiles like the psychopath he is. “I’m here with an offer.”
“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I think you do,” he says. He paces in front of my bed with his hands in his pockets. “You’re facing a hefty hospital bill with this,” he pauses and points to me. “I want you to stay away from Thea, and in exchange, I’ll cover this hospital bill and give you twenty thousand in cash.”
“Fuck you.”
He chuckles. “Do you want to think about it? It’s a nice offer. You won’t have debt collectors calling you or coming to take your junky car. You won’t have anyone garnishing your wages, assuming you make it back to work. And all you have to do is stay away from a girl you barely know.”
“And your family stays away from Lacey?” I add.
Adam seems surprised. “Sure, why not.” He shrugs and extends his hand to me. We shake, and he pulls out a wad of cash and sets it on my tray. “You can count it if you want. I’ll settle up in billing on my way out.”
He leaves, and the regret seeps in.
twenty-seven
Thea
“Cookie, you have to eat.” Nolan places a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich in front of me and immediately the smell turns my stomach.
It’s been days since I last saw Kyler. Even longer since I spoke to him. He didn’t give me the time of day when I showed up after the game a few nights ago; instead, he got in his car and drove off at speed. I get it. He’s pissed. A bomb was dropped at Lacey’s birthday party and the after effects of its detonation are still being felt now. That’s the thing, though. It doesn’t just affect him, it’s affects all of us, only he didn’t stick around long enough to realize it.
“I’m not hungry,” I say as I push the bowl away. “And why are you calling me ‘cookie’?”
Nolan pushes the bowl back to me. “I figured if I had a term of endearment for you, it’d make you feel a little better. And you’re the cook of the house, ergo, ‘cookie’.”
“Well, this is me officially vetoing it.”
“Fine, but you gotta eat. This is non-negotiable. Don’t make me feed you, Thea. I’m not above going into full on care mode.”
“He’s got a point, Thea,” Millie adds as she walks through the kitchen from the laundry room, carrying a basket of clean clothes. I’m not sure at what point she arrived, but my best friend has taken on the role as mother hen of the house; a role I normally slip into with ease.
With a sigh of exasperation, I take the spoon laid out before me and dip it in the soup, stirring it idly before taking a sip. The tomato flavor barely registers on my taste-buds, but my stomach tells me it’s been longing for sustenance regardless of whether I feel like eating or not.
“Have you heard anything yet?” I ask, dipping the sandwich into the soup and watching as it slowly seeps up the red liquid.
“Not yet. Don’t worry, Thea, he’ll be home soon.”
Jude got a call early this morning from Coach. Kyler’s car was found by an old warehouse on the outskirts of town and whoever found it recognized the NU hockey jersey Ky had in the back seat. Jude and Devon took the spare keys and went to retrieve it. All we know so far is Ky’s hockey gear was in the back, and nothing appears to have been stolen or damaged, which means Kyler drove it there himself. Why? We don’t know yet, but I can’t stop the nagging feeling I have that the warehouse was the venue of the illegal fights he regularly goes to. And if I’m right, I can’t help but think the worst has happened—why else would Kyler abandon his car? I’m hoping the boys can find out more information when they drop by their coach’s house on the way back.
“It just doesn’t make sense. Why not go to his mom’s place? Why not come back here? Why hasn’t he been at college? I just . . . I’m worried about him.”
Worried is an understatement. Going days without communication to any of us is out of character for Kyler. Not to mention not turning up for practice. He lives and breathes hockey and has said many times he wanted to go professional because it was his ticket out of here; so, to not turn up and put his career at risk is a cause for concern. I’m almost certain he blames me for Adam and his parents’ arrival at Lacey’s party. He likely thinks I’m the one who planned it all and tricked him into letting me get close to his family, so I can pass on the information to the Nelsons. By association to me, I assume he also blames Jude. But to cut off Nolan and Devon when they’ve done nothing wrong? I have no doubt there’s more to Kyler’s silence than meets the eye. And every time I think about it—which is pretty much all the time—brings a stone of anxiety to the pit of my stomach. Something is very wrong—I can feel it—and dread and panic are simmering under the calm façade I’m holding on to. One that’s slowly slipping away as the minutes, hours, and days pass.
“He’ll be okay T. This is Kyler we’re talking about. He can look after himself,” Millie says with an air of confidence as she takes the seat next to me and pulls me into her embrace.
She’s right, Kyler can look after himself, but she’s missing the point. They all are. He’s not himself. He’s angry and feeling betrayed. He already had the weight of the world on his shoulders and now? Now it’s worse because he thinks his niece could be taken away from her mother—and her family—at no notice. Jude’s already mentioned Kyler was seething at their last game and it felt as if his mind was all over the place and he wasn’t concentrating on the play. He ended up in the sin bin more times than any player that night and Coach eventually had to send him off the ice. I felt the resentment oozing off him when he brushed past me outside the arena and it was clear to me all the rage and wrath he felt toward the Nelsons was building up inside him. He was on the verge of exploding and needed an outlet to let all the hatred spill out. Yet only I know that outlet is likely to be an illegal fight. And, once I tell the others, there’s a risk it will get back to their coach and Kyler’s time on the team will be cut short. I’m not going to be the one who ruins things for him and give him another excuse to hate me.
The sound of car doors slamming has me dropping my spoon into the soup bowl and turning around in my seat. Devon walks through the front door first, followed by Jude and they both come into the kitchen.
“Any news?” I ask eagerly, my eyes following their every move.
Jude sits down heavily at the table in the corner, looking as if he’s aged ten years in four hours. Devon doesn’t look any better and desperation, fear and panic all take a hold of my body.
“We spoke to Coach,” Devon tells us. “Kyler’s in hospital.”
I can barely hold it together and the heat builds up behind my eyes, bringing with it an unwelcome moisture. My hand covers my mouth but it’s unsuccessful in holding back the gasp and questions that fall out. “Wh-what? When? Why? Is he okay?”
“All we know is he was admitted four days ago—”
“Four days?” I know my interruptions are not helping, but I can’t help the shock and worry taking over any coherent thoughts I have. Devon clears his throat before continuing.
“But he was badly injured and so they sedated him. He had no ID on him, so they couldn’t notify anyone until he gained consciousness. All signs point to him being in an attack, or fight or something, but whatever it was, it wasn’t a fair one. Coach doesn’t know the extent of his injuries as he’s not Ky’s next of kin, but he’s the person Ky requested they call.
“Fuuuuccck!” Nolan swears under his breath and a sob falls out of me before I can stop it.
I only realize I’m shaking when Millie pulls me into her arms by way of comfort.
“Is he okay? Has Coach spoken to him?” Nolan continues.
“He hadn’t when we saw him. I think he was going to call Ky’s mom and let her know.”
“I need to go and see him.”
Four pairs of eyes immediately look over at me.
“Thea . . .”
I can hear Jude’s voice in the back of my mind as I walk mindlessly around the kitchen gathering protein bars, water, some fruit, anything Kyler might need. I reach into the closet in the hallway and pick up a backpack which I can fill with various items.
