Twin Babies for my Pucking Defenders (Chicago Icebreakers #2)

31. Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

Axel

The locker room’s dead silent. You’d think someone died.

No one’s talking, no one’s looking at each other. They’re all just sitting there, staring at their feet or at the walls, trying to process the loss to the damn Blackhawks. A game we shouldn’t have lost. A game we couldn’t afford to lose.

Coach Nate’s pacing, which means shit’s bad. He’s not saying anything yet, but he’s doing that thing he does when he’s nervous—straightening the towels, rearranging the water bottles on the bench, checking his clipboard even though he’s already got everything written down. I’ve noticed that pattern over the years. It’s his tell, and right now, it’s loud as hell.

I sit in the corner with my eyes scanning the room. The guys look defeated. Even the fucking co-captains are slouched, and that’s never a good sign. Finn’s staring at the floor, probably over-analyzing every fucking play in his head and Declan’s cracking his knuckles, a habit that means he’s trying not to lose his shit.

Coach finally stops pacing. He squares his shoulders like he’s gonna give us one of those big motivational speeches that’ll fix everything, but instead, he just sighs. “Okay, listen up,” his voice low, clipped. “I’m giving you all a day. Just one. Wallow in it, drink, cry, whatever the hell you need to do. But tomorrow, you show up ready to fucking work. Got it?”

No one answers. There’s a few nods, maybe, but nothing more. We’re all in our heads right now. It’s hard to take a tough loss and even tougher to let down your coach.

Slowly, the guys start filing out, but I hang back. Something’s off, and it’s more than just the game. Coach Nate’s still tense, hands fidgeting with the papers on his desk. I watch him carefully, waiting until the room’s clear, and then I follow him to his office.

He walks in first, doesn’t even look at me, just turns the lock on the door. “Axel,” he starts, rubbing his temple. “Where the hell is Carter?”

I shrug. “Not sure. Haven’t heard from him since the game. But…he’s taking the loss hard. Harder than any of us.”

Coach leans back against his desk, arms folded, studying me. He’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “Check on him, all right? Make sure he’s not in a really bad place.”

“Will do, coach.” I start to turn, but then I stop, something nagging at the back of my mind. “You okay, coach?”

He hesitates, the way he always does when someone turns the conversation on him. Finally, he nods. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Bullshit, but I let it slide.

“Cool,” I say, not really sure how to segue into what I need to talk about. “There’s something I wanted to mention, though.”

Coach raises an eyebrow, gesturing for me to go on. I shuffle my feet, suddenly feeling like a fucking kid about to admit I broke a window or something.

“There was…an incident after the game,” I say, careful with my words. “Ryan was at the store, talking shit to Millie and Jade. Almost lost it on him, coach.”

Coach’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches me, waiting for more.

“I didn’t do anything physical,” I add quickly. “But I wanted to. Fuck, I really wanted to.”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Glad you kept your cool, Axel. Last thing we need is you getting suspended for knocking Ryan’s teeth out, even as tempting as it might be.”

There’s a flicker of pride in his voice, and shit, that gets me. I love that. Being acknowledged always feels good.

“You did good,” he says, eyes narrowing slightly. “Real good.”

I don’t say anything, just nod, feeling a quiet sense of pride settle in my chest. I could have ripped Ryan apart, but I didn’t. And hearing Coach Nate say that? Fuck, it means something.

“I’ll talk to Carter,” I say, changing the subject before I get too caught up in that feeling. “Make sure he’s okay.”

Coach nods, then his gaze shifts slightly, looking me over like he’s assessing something. “How’s the injury?”

“Better,” I say, and it’s true. “The sessions with Jade helped a lot.”

“Good,” coach says, his voice firm. “We need you at your best, Axel.”

There’s a pause, a heavy one. Then he straightens, waving me off with a flick of his hand. “Get the hell out of my office so I can figure out our next move.”

I smirk, nodding as I move toward the door. “Yes, coach.”

Just as I’m about to leave, he calls out. “And Axel?”

I stop, turning back. “Yeah?”

“Spit out that gum before you walk out of here.”

I roll my eyes but comply, tossing the gum in the trash bin by the door. “Yes, coach.”

As I step into the hallway, I’m already thinking about Carter. Where the fuck is he?

And why the hell is Jade’s phone going straight to voicemail?

The moment I pull up to Gold Coast Apartments, I know this shit’s gonna be a hassle. I lean against the counter and ask the security guy if he can buzz Carter’s floor. “Penthouse, please.”

It figures that Carter lives in the penthouse here. Carter’s always gotta be on top of the world, even when he’s spiraling down. I make my way up, the elevator humming quietly. This place is too damn fancy for someone who isn’t even showing up for practice.

“He’s not answering,” the guy behind the desk says.

“Try again,” I tell him. I watch him buzz again. He shakes his head when there’s no answer.

“Again,” I tell him.

“Sir,” he says to me, ready to protest at bothering Carter again.

“I’ll give you season tickets to watch the Chicago Icebreakers,” I say. He eyes me with intrigue. “I promise. I’ll bring them to you next week.”

“Deal,” he says, and keeps buzzing Carter’s apartment.

Finally, my friend answers. “There’s someone to see you, sir,” the man says. “Axel Knight.”

There’s a pause where the front desk guy stares at me while he listens. Finally, he hangs up the phone and gestures to the elevator. “Go on up.”

“Thanks,” I say quickly, hurrying over and pushing the button impatiently. I ride up to the sixth floor, tapping my foot.

When I knock on the door of the penthouse, it’s more out of frustration than anything else.

A long pause. Then, the door creaks open, and Carter stands there—barefoot, hair sticking up like he’s just rolled out of bed, wearing the same damn hoodie I swear I saw him in after the game. The guy looks like shit.

“Axel?” His voice is scratchy, like he hasn’t used it all day.

“You missed practice,” I say, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The place is a mess—clothes thrown everywhere, empty takeout containers scattered across the floor, and no decoration, nothing that makes it look like a home. It’s just a big, empty fucking apartment.

He shrugs, closing the door behind me. “Yeah.”

I turn to him, crossing my arms. “What the fuck’s going on, Carter?”

Another shrug. “Nothing.”

I look around again, taking it all in. Something’s wrong. This isn’t just about the game anymore. Carter’s usually got his shit together, but now…it’s like he’s given up.

“Bullshit,” I say, stepping closer. “This isn’t you, man. You don’t just disappear like this.”

He sinks down onto the couch, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I don’t know, Axel. I…I can’t shake it. This loss, it’s fucking with my head. Everything’s fucking with my head.”

There it is. The crack in his armor.

I sit down across from him, leaning forward. “You talked to your therapist?”

He shakes his head, avoiding my eyes. “No. What’s the point?”

“The point is that you’re in a fucking hole right now, and you need to get out of it. You can’t do that on your own.” I grab his phone from the coffee table and shove it into his hands. “Call her. Now.”

Carter stares at the phone like it’s a foreign object, but after a long pause, he unlocks it and dials. I watch him, making sure he follows through. His conversation’s quiet, a few murmured words about how he hasn’t been taking his meds and that maybe they need to up the dosage.

When he hangs up, he looks even more drained, but there’s something else there too. Maybe a little relief.

“She said she’ll get me on something stronger,” he mutters, dropping the phone. “Told me to stop being a stubborn asshole.”

I snort. “Smart woman.”

He tries to smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah.”

There’s an awkward silence after that, both of us just sitting there. Finally, Carter stands, rubbing his face. “I’m gonna crash. I…I just need to sleep.”

“Go for it,” I tell him, watching as he drags himself toward the bedroom. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He pauses at the door, looking back at me with tired eyes. “Thanks, man.”

I wave him off. “Just get some rest.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m left alone in the wreck that is Carter’s apartment. I stare at the mess for a moment, then get up and start cleaning. Trash goes in the trash can, clothes get piled up and the coffee table finally looks like something you could actually put a cup on.

It takes me a while, but eventually, the place looks halfway decent. I collapse onto the couch, grabbing a controller from the TV stand. Carter’s got a pretty solid gaming setup, so I pick a game and start playing, letting the distraction take over for a bit.

I’ve been here before. Not with Carter, but with my own shit. The depression, the overwhelming fucking weight of it. My ADHD used to fuck me over big time before I got on meds, and even now, some days are worse than others. But this? I get this. The feeling of being buried, not knowing how to dig yourself out. It’s like a goddamn black hole.

But Carter…he feels like a friend. Not just a teammate, or some guy I have to put up with because we share the same ice. He’s my friend. And not because we’re both dating the same girl or because we’re forced to spend time together. There’s something about Carter. He fucking gets me.

The hours slip by, the game blurring in front of me. I don’t notice how long I’ve been sitting there until I hear the bedroom door creak open, and Carter stumbles out, looking groggy but slightly better.

“You cleaned,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, well, your place was a shitshow,” I say, tossing the controller onto the table. “Figured I’d do you a favor.”

He sits down next to me, sinking into the cushions. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I wanted to.”

Carter doesn’t say anything for a while, just stares at the screen. Finally, he lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know how to get out of this, Axel. I don’t know how to…stop feeling like this.”

I lean back, resting my head on the couch. “It’s not about stopping it, man. It’s about riding it out. You do what you need to do. Call your therapist. Take your meds. And when you feel like shit, you lean on your friends.”

He glances at me, eyes slightly red but more awake than before. “I don’t deserve friends like you.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re right. You don’t.” I nudge him with my elbow. “But you’ve got me anyway, asshole.”

He laughs, for real this time. It’s small, but it’s there, and that’s enough.

We sit there in silence for a bit longer, the hum of the game in the background, both of us just existing. And honestly, that’s enough. For now, that’s enough.