Where We Belong (Carolina Rebels Book 8)

by Lindsay Paige

  “Collin?” Cal bangs on his apartment door. “Let me in! I’m sorry, okay? Let’s talk.”

  Collin sighs. “Hold tight,” he murmurs to me as he stands. He lets his brother in and Cal stops short upon seeing me.

  “Why is she here?”

  “She lives with me,” Collin answers curtly, returning to my side, but still standing.

  “Since when?”

  “Since shortly after you tried to break into my room to get a look at her. What do you want to talk about?”

  “Her!” Cal spits, flinging a pointed finger at me. The tension in the room thickens to the point where I don’t know how I’m still able to breathe. Marmalade sits in my lap, keeping an eye on the twins. “I still don’t understand this, Collin. It isn’t like you to keep things from me and out of all the people you could date, you’re picking a bitch like her?”

  “She’s the bitch? You’re the dick who left her high and dry and still don’t know if you have a kid somewhere out there?” Collin fires back. “What is wrong with you? How could you do that to someone?”

  Cal laughs in a weird, non-humorous way. “Because I was eighteen and I definitely didn’t want her in my life forever and I, like everyone else on the planet, wasn’t ready for a kid! And we were about to go off to college. We had a plan, Collin. She would’ve fucked that up!” Cal yells. “Who knew if we could’ve stayed paired together if I had to worry about her and a baby? You wouldn’t have this,” he waves his arms around, “if it wasn’t for me doing what I did! You need me to play hockey and you know it! It’s in your fucking contract that we be on the same team!”

  Whoa. Really? I know they are brothers, twins, but surely separation isn’t impossible.

  Collin is a stone for a moment. “You need me too, so don’t throw that bullshit at me! You ask that they don’t trade you without me. Ask her if you have a kid!” The two get closer and closer to one another and my worry about this escalating rises.

  “I handle my shit the way I want, just like you do. Get off your fucking high horse and find some better pussy while you’re at it. Maybe then you’ll learn to stop whining and bitching about everything in your life. We have the same life, Collin!”

  And the world explodes with his last words.

  Collin throws a punch and within seconds, it’s a bundle of bodies. They roll over the chair, bump into the coffee table, and all the while, fighting like they’re teenagers again. Marmalade and I move to the kitchen. I know enough about these two that I don’t waste my breath telling them to stop. Seeing them fight when we were teenagers was one thing; seeing them as full-grown men petrifies me.

  There’s so much muscle and strength. A load of anger and determination to win. Their hits are more accurate and their fury more reckless and dangerous.

  They keep on until they knock over a lamp and Cal’s nose is bloody.

  They lie on the floor, breathing heavy, yet staying silent. Cal eventually takes his shirt off and holds it to his nose.

  Finally, I ask, “Should I call your father?” He was always the peacemaker between the two. He helped settled arguments and told them what they needed to do or stop doing.

  “No,” they both answer.

  “Are you sure? Because I think we should.”

  “Stay out of our shit, Julie,” Cal snaps.

  Collin elbows him. “Don’t start. She’s in my life whether you like it or not; find a way to be civil. If she can manage, you sure as hell can.”

  The room falls silent once more. Cal releases a long steady breath before turning to look at his brother.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Collin nods. “Apology accepted.” He goes to stand and that’s when a bit of outrage emerges on Cal’s face.

  “That’s it? You aren’t going to apologize too?”

  “For what?” Collin bites back.

  “I said I was sorry because I was an ass and I know I give you a hard time when I shouldn’t. Now, it’s your turn to say sorry because you put us on such ridiculous pedestals and the world fucking falls apart if one of us falls off it. You’re just as hard on me as you are on yourself, Collin. We both deserve a break. Now fucking apologize.”

  Collin glances at me, but I only shrug; I don’t give a damn whether he does this or not. He also releases a long, steady breath, but his is much heavier. Loaded down with reluctance and probably a bit of shame, as if he thinks Cal is right. “I’m sorry,” he replies quietly.

  “Are you guys going to hug now?” I ask, earning glares from them both. “What? Your parents did in fact make you do that.”

  “If we’re done, go home. It’s been a long day,” Collin tells Cal, ignoring what I said.

  “You aren’t going to tell me what happened?” Cal seems disappointed by this. Maybe worried too, but that doesn’t surprise me.

  “I’m taking a medical leave, essentially.” Collin sits down on the couch and Marmalade claws his way out of my arms to run to him. “I have to see two therapists: one for hockey and one for all this other shit. I get at least two weeks. That’s it.”

  Cal sticks his hands in his pockets as if he doesn’t know what to do other than stand there and look awkward. “At least the team is working with you and trying to get you help.”

  “Yeah,” is all Collin says.

  His evil twin glances at me with uncertainty. But I don’t want his help with anything, not even Collin. I can still see and feel his rigid back when Cal implied he was crazy. While knowing how Collin looks up to him and compares himself to Cal, there’s no way I want to aid in enforcing that in any way. They need some separation and their differences need to be made more prominent. There has to be a way I can showcase that.

  You’ve done enough damage here, I telepathically send to Cal. Go crawl back into your hole and never come out, please and thank you. We don’t need you. You aren’t welcome.

  It’s almost as if Cal can read my thoughts because his eyes harden and his mouth flattens as if to say back, I’m not going anywhere. We’re twins; we’re inseparable.

  Ha. We’ll see about that.

  “Jules?”

  My eyes snap over to Collin, who caught my silent conversation with Cal. The corners of his eyes are pinched with worry. “Yeah?” I ask.

  “Maybe Cal should eat dinner with us?”

  I glance over at Cal, who smirks. We totally had a telepathic conversation. Focusing back on Collin, all I say is, “If you want to.” Of course, I don’t want him here, but what can I do about that? He is easily going to be in my life forever because of Collin and I can be civil, even if it feels like it’s against my own will.

  Not to mention, after today, after seeing Collin curled like a baby on the pavement in between two cars, seemingly out of it and talking with such a bleak monotone that was so dreadful on my ears, I can do anything for him. Even his eyes seemed dead. Empty. Lifeless. And it’s all because he thought he was losing hockey. His livelihood and career. Even now, his eyes aren’t quite the same.

  He seems to think about it for a moment, but then sighs. “Maybe tomorrow, Cal.”

  Without any hesitation, I walk over and open the door for him to leave. Collin shakes his head at me, but there’s a barely-there smile on his face. Cal doesn’t acknowledge me, except for the fact that he does leave.

  “Jules, will you run and pick up dinner?”

  “Absolutely. In the mood for anything?”

  He shakes his head. After grabbing what I need to make my run, I kiss him softly and go on my way. I don’t want to be gone long. I just run to the nearest restaurant, grab some grub, and head back. Unfortunately, Cal pokes his head out of his apartment as I’m walking to Collin’s door.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “You will not come between me and my brother again, Julie. I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but you will not ruin my relationship with Collin.”

  With a sweet smile, I reply, “You don’t have to worry about me ruining your relationship with Collin.
I’m sure you’ll do that all on your own, Cal.” I quickly enter the apartment to avoid further conversation.

  Collin lies on the couch, knocked out from the mentally draining day, and Marmalade sits on the back of it, his tail swishing and flicking back and forth. I place our food on the kitchen bar, sit, and eat my meal. I won’t wake him; he deserves to sleep. My concern for him has grown tenfold since this morning. He’s in such serious trouble. Hopefully, the time off the team is giving him, plus seeing two therapists, will really help him.

  After I eat, I curl up in his recliner and doze off. Who knew I would be as tired as Collin.

  The sensation of being lifted wakes me.

  “Just carrying you to bed,” Collin whispers. “Thanks for supper.”

  “Any time.” I nuzzle my face deeper into his neck, even as he lowers me to the bed.

  He chuckles and manages to climb into bed without me having to move. “Don’t start a war with him, Julie,” he says with a bit of heaviness.

  I lift my head. “Cal?”

  He nods. “If he tries to stir shit up, or says something out of the way to you, don’t say a word back to him.” I open my mouth, ready to fire away, but he lays a finger over my lips. “No more glares either. Don’t contribute to the war, Julie, because he’ll make it one and then I’ll be miserable.”

  “Okay,” I reluctantly agree. He kisses my forehead in appreciation. “Can they really not trade one of you without the other?”

  Collin seems a bit ashamed. “I really don’t think I could handle a career like this unless I had him as backup, as support for my bad days.”

  Before I can stop myself, the words flow right out of my mouth. “Or maybe he’s a crutch for you and you should have a tiny bit of separation.”

  “How about we let my shrinks figure that one out?” The tips of his fingers drag along my side, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “It’s been a long day; you’re amazing; and I want to focus on the best part of my life right now: the fact that you’re here.” His mouth blazes a trail down my body until he reaches my sweetest spot. If pleasuring me is what Collin wants to focus on, I most certainly won’t stop him.

  The next morning, I shower and pick out the best clothes for my first interview. Collin isn’t in his room when I come out of the bathroom, but I find him once I enter the main room. His eyes meet mine from across the room and he smiles hopefully.

  Cal is here cooking breakfast.

  Without skipping a beat, I walk confidently and comfortably over to Collin.

  “Morning, Jules,” he murmurs as he leans in and kisses me softly. “What time do you have to leave?”

  “In about fifteen minutes,” I answer, trying not to eye Cal. What is he doing over here already?

  A plate clatters onto the bar in front of me, nearly sending eggs flying off the plate. “Eat before you go,” Cal says blandly. He’s made French toast, eggs, and bacon.

  Collin grabs my hips and forces me to sit. “See? You two can get along just fine.”

  Except Cal is only doing this to wiggle his way back into Collin’s good graces. It’s not sincere. But I begin to eat because the twins watch and wait for me to do so.

  “What’s your job anyway?” Cal asks, apparently now trying to make nice with chit-chat once everyone is eating.

  “Dental hygienist.”

  He nods. Collin rests a hand on my thigh in approval. “Where is your interview?”

  I give him the names of the two dental practices; it turns out one of them actually does dental work for the team. I wish I could work on Cal’s mouth. Make him feel some pain.

  We fall silent. Our forks clink and scrape loudly against our plates.

  Suddenly, Cal breaks the silence. “Is there a kid?”

  His expression is carefully blank. I can’t believe he actually asked. Why not live on in ignorance for the rest of his life? Maybe it bothers him that he doesn’t know because of what he did and if that’s the case, I don’t want to answer his question. The dark, still-angry part of me refuses to open my mouth to reply.

  “No,” Collin tells him. “False alarm.”

  The weight of not knowing lifts so visibly from Cal’s entire being. Maybe there’s a teeny tiny heart beating somewhere inside him after all. It’s just buried underneath a load of bullshit and asshole behavior.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Cal accuses.

  “You walked out on me; you didn’t care one way or another. Why would I tell you anything?” I snap.

  Collin squeezes my thigh. “You know the truth now and it’s in the past. Let’s just move on,” he says.

  I’ll have to work on that; I’ve been holding this grudge for so long against Cal, there’s no telling how long it’ll take to let it go. Standing, I tell him, “I need to go. I don’t want to be late.”

  “Good luck,” he replies with a smile.

  Hopefully, I won’t need any, but I’ll always take some.

  Sitting at home while Julie leaves for an interview and Cal leaves for practice is wrong. But this is where I am. I call Dr. Gressley for a referral to a shrink. His surprise and mild happiness irks me, but I let it slide. My livelihood is being threatened by my own mind. This morning, I woke up with a fierce determination that I wasn’t losing hockey to this. I wouldn’t lose my sanity to this. And I need to get myself together because I also won’t lose Julie due to my mental issues, or even cause it to fuck things up.

  I don’t like the idea of therapy, mostly because it terrifies me to think of my mental health making headlines, of people discovering my struggle. Here I am, a professional athlete who is supposed to be a role model for kids. Kids who sometimes idolize us because they love what we do and they want to be like us.

  How can I be comfortable with those same kids seeing me struggle with something they can’t even see? That they probably don’t understand. Hell, adults don’t understand most of the time. They don’t know what true anxiety is. They don’t realize that I can’t easily rid myself of it by thinking positively or breathing in fresh air. It’s not a simple issue in any way, shape, or form.

  The shame of having to deal with this, the fear of the public finding out, and the constant wondering of why only I struggle with it and not my twin plagues me daily. Would my teammates understand? Would the fans? Would I be ridiculed for something I struggle to control? Will they hear the word disorder or mental health and think I’m crazy? Unstable? Unfit to play hockey?

  All I want is my privacy, and I threaten Dr. Gressley over how it must be protected at all costs with this new shrink. It takes him half an hour to book me an appointment for this afternoon with some guy named Trace Lexington. I’m already a little wary, considering the guy had an opening.

  But when the time comes for my appointment, I’m right where I should be: in the waiting room. Ball cap pulled down low, hoodie up, sunglasses on, and a ball of anxiety tight in my stomach. I still don’t want to do this, but I’m backed against a wall with no other options.

  “Mr. Grey?”

  With a small sigh of relief, I stand and follow the lady to an office.

  I’m immediately unimpressed.

  He’s new. Boxes are stacked in the corners, one even on his bare desk. The man stands, slightly taller than me, and extends his hand.

  “Sorry for the mess. I’m still settling in. It’s nice to meet you, Collin.”

  “You too,” I lie as he motions for me to have a seat.

  It’s then I notice he has one picture up on the shelves behind him. He, a woman, and two toddlers are at the arena, all wearing Rebels jerseys. Trace follows my gaze.

  “My wife is a huge fan of the team. Being closer to the Rebels was one reason she didn’t mind me accepting this job offer. I’ve already been told that we’re getting season tickets next season.” He shakes his head with a chuckle.

  “Are you going to tell her about me?”

  His expression turns serious. “Absolutely not. I take confidentiality seriously and Dr. Gressley
informed me of how important your privacy is to you. I will not betray that, even to my wife.” All I do is nod because I believe him. “Dr. Gressley also told me you’ve been adamant about not doing therapy and the only reason you’re here now is because of the team forcing you.”

  “Dr. Gressley has a big mouth.”

  Trace smiles. “We’re supposed to share some information with one another so we can better help you. Today, we’ll just get to know each other a little better, okay? Relax. This won’t be hard unless you make it, Collin.”

  He’s already irritating me. “Do you even know what you’re talking about? What makes you qualified to be my therapist? To be a therapist to anyone?” I ask, my anger shining through.

  “Because we’re alike,” he answers simply. “I didn’t want therapy either. I became a therapist specifically so I could handle my depression on my own. It didn’t work.” He shrugs as if he didn’t just lay a bomb out there.

  “Wait,” I interrupt. “You’re a therapist who needs a therapist?” This is fantastic. There’s no way this will work. How is he supposed to help me if he doesn’t have his own life together?

  Trace shrugs. “We all need a little extra help sometimes, Collin. My point is I know what you’re dealing with in more ways than you know. My wife struggles with some mental health issues too.” He points to the photo behind him. “She had three panic attacks that night and the last thing I wanted to do was go to that game.” They’re smiling like it’s the best night of their lives, though. “But we had the tickets. Our kids were excited about their first game, and we weren’t letting them down. I know about pushing through, dealing with it, and being in a relationship during it all.”

  Now, I narrow my eyes at him. “Dr. Gressley told you about Julie.”

  Trace shakes his head. “Your coach did, actually. I called him prior to you coming to get his take on things. He said she seems to be a good rock for you. The relationship is new, isn’t it?”

  “Yes and no.” Trace waits for me to expand on my answer and I do, telling him how we were friends first and about recent events. I even tell him the ordeal with my brother. “Julie is amazing; we’re doing great.”