On the way back upstairs, Colt palmed his phone and made the first of three planned phone calls. He started with the easiest one, which just confirmed how complicated his life had become.
Dr. Knox, the New York Panthers head physician, answered his call on the first ring. “Hey, Doc, it’s Colt.”
“I know who it is, son. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Dr. Knox was an older man, well into his seventies, and he’d counseled Colt on more than one occasion about the quantities of liquor he consumed.
“I’m ready,” Colt said. The words didn’t come out as strong as the resolve he’d thought he’d had this morning.
“I’m relieved, son. It’s a good decision. It’ll be hard, but I’ll be there with you every step of the way,” Dr. Knox said, the relief evident in his voice.
“Thank you. Do I make the arrangements?” Colt asked. He stopped at his front door and leaned back against the wall. The best he could tell, he stood alone in the hall. As dangerous as this conversation might be to have in a public setting, the results would be worse if everyone was awake inside his apartment.
“No, don’t worry about that, I’ll make them. The place I have planned for you is in Utah, tucked away in the mountains. You’ll be there ten days, under an assumed name. We’ll get you detoxed, cleaned up, and back here for the rest of the treatments. The support group here is just as discrete, but you know all that. We’ve talked about it before.”
“Yes, sir. And thank you. I can leave today. I want to start right away,” Colt said.
“Good. I’ll take you there myself. Let me get the flights booked now.”
“Thanks again. I better call Coach Atkins and let him know.”
“Colt, this is going to change your life, son. I’m proud of you.” Colt nodded at no one. The emotion of the words clogged his throat. How long had it been since anyone had been proud of him, including himself?
“I’ll call you back within the hour,” Dr. Knox assured him.
“Thank you.” Colt was truly grateful. The words broke as he said them. Dr. Knox disconnected the call.
Colt didn’t wait. He dialed Coach Atkins as he entered his apartment, relieved the place was still quiet. As the phone rang, he walked to the guest bedroom and quietly shut the door. Coach Atkins answered on the fifth ring.
“This better be good and make it quick. I’m in cooking class.” Colt grinned. In what world did a head coach of a professional football team find his relaxation by taking cooking classes?
“Coach, I’m gonna be MIA for about ten days,” Colt said. He plopped down on the bed and dropped his head between his shoulders, waiting for the coach’s response.
“Is Dr. Knox gonna be MIA, too?”
“Yes, sir, he said he’d be going with me.” After another lengthy pause, with nothing said between them, Colt could almost see the coach doing the math in his mind. Spring training camp was just a few weeks away.
“I want regular reports,” Coach said.
“Yes, sir,” Colt agreed and released the pent up breath he’d been holding.
“Did something happen, Michaels? Do I need to get public relations in on this?” Coach asked.
“I’m getting married, but I’ll announce that myself when I get back, if it hasn’t already been said. I honestly don’t remember.”
“To who?” From the sound of the coach’s voice, the man had trouble thinking of anyone in Colt’s life suitable to marry. Hell, he completely agreed.
“Sir, I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll tell Doc to keep you updated. Go back to your class. I’ll call you when I’m back.”
“Colton, you need this. Get sober. Do whatever it takes to beat this addiction. We have a championship to win this year.”
“Yes, sir.” The call disconnected. Now, on to his third and final call. The one he absolutely didn’t want to make. He struggled with himself. The need for a drink made his tongue thick and his palms sweaty. Instead of calling his dad, he called his agent. The decision was lame, but they were really like talking to the same person. When one knew something, so did the other. Besides, this was Saturday morning. Maybe they’d be on the golf course and he’d get voice mail.
“Hey, Colt, how’s it going, buddy?” Johnny answered on the first ring. Damn!
“Johnny, I’m going into rehab. I’ll be heading to Utah in the next couple of hours. Will you tell my dad?” He bit the bullet, refusing to beat around the bush.
“What? You don’t need rehab!” Johnny’s financial concern drove him to say that, certainly not any care for Colt himself.
“Yeah, I do. I’m also getting married. Tell my dad that, too.” Colt stood. His nerves had him pacing. He left the guest bedroom, heading straight for the small living room. A muffled noise came from his bedroom, and Colt cut his eyes in that direction, watching for the bedroom door to open as he lowered his voice. “I gotta go. They’re coming to pick me up. I’ll be gone ten days.”
“Wait! Don’t do this. Your dad’s here with me. Talk to him.” Just as Colt figured, they were together. Why had Johnny answered the phone?
“No, tell him for me. I’m leaving now.” He prayed that would stop his dad from coming over. Colt didn’t wait, but disconnected the call and dropped his phone on the coffee table. He ignored the immediate ring back from the phone. He had all his photos and articles of Jace sitting out on his desk. He needed to put those away. Colt stacked them carefully on top of each other and went to his wall safe. He should have kept them there from the beginning. He just liked having faster access to them.
Colt worked quickly, keeping an eye on the bedroom door. Maryia didn’t know about the wall safe. And if she did, there was no way she knew the combination sequence. He opened the safe and carefully placed the photos inside. He shut the door, twisted the handle, and spun the combination, before hanging the picture back in place. Relief replaced the overwhelming need to drink that had plagued him since he’d spoken to his agent. His memories of Jace should be safe inside there. Colt would always protect Jace from anything else in his world reaching out and fucking up his life.