The Not - Outcast

I loved hockey.

Deek kept on, “Because she will. Same thing with Donna. Donna waited until Cheyenne was eleven before telling me I even had a kid. After that it was a phone call every now and then, a nice ‘do you want to see your daughter?’ But then the demands for money came in. She tried blackmailing me, holding Cheyenne over my head.”

I loved the competitiveness of the sport. I loved how ruthless you could be on the ice.

“Then she figured out I didn’t care.” This was the first pause he made, frowning before taking another drag from his cigar. “I should’ve cared. For that, I feel a sort of way, but then I start thinking that maybe I’m not feeling a sort of way for a reason. Like there’s something wrong with the kid, that’s why I don’t care for her. Donna figured that out, and then it got real. That’s when she tried blackmailing me for money. You don’t want to know the lengths she went to find out about me to extort. She said nasty things, really nasty things. All untrue too. I’d about had it with her, then we found out that she was arrested and taken to rehab. Social services called me, told me that they found Cheyenne, and she looked like she hadn’t eaten in a while. Donna locked her out of the house. You believe that shit? What kind of parent would do that? I’d never. Not with Hunter.”

Ruthless. Violent.

It was a controversial part of the game, but I loved the violence.

I wished I were on the rink right fucking now.

Deek was almost done with his cigar. “I’m not the best father there is, but I tried. Brought her in. Gave her shelter, food, clothing. I tried. I did, and then I found out what happened with Chad, and that was it. That was the final straw. Couldn’t stomach seeing Cheyenne after.”

Violence off the rink was bad.

I needed to keep telling myself that because I was three seconds from snapping. I wanted my stick in hand, skates underneath, and I’d check this guy on the most perfect angle of coming around the goalie’s net.

I was envisioning it.

Deek standing there.

Me coming around.

I’d hit him so hard, his head would— “I did what I had to do, and I wouldn’t take it back.”

I snapped out of my thoughts and I saw Deek was swaying a little.

He wasn’t sober, at all. I hadn’t noticed.

“What are you talking about?” What did he do?

“Stay away from her, Cut. Love you like a son, like Hunter, like Chad. I never thought I had to look after you, but I do. That’s what I’m doing here. I’m looking after you. You stay with her, and your life will be over. She’ll ruin you, just like her mother ruined me. It’s in the blood. It’s between the legs. A cunt. That’s what Donna was, what she did with Chad. She didn’t think I’d find out, but Chad came home that night and I knew right away what she did. She did the same thing to me. She was going to ruin Chad’s life, too.”

I started for him, but checked myself.

He reeked of brandy. A mostly empty bottle was on a chair behind him.

He’d been drinking and waiting for me.

He hadn’t answered. I lifted my head back up. “What did you do, Deek?”

“She was just there, lying in the bathroom.” Deek faltered now, the words starting to slur from him. “I had no clue where Cheyenne was. Donna’s pants were still undone, and there was a needle by her. A full needle, but she’d already taken what she needed. She was gone. Off.” He whistled, waving his hand in the air. “She wanted to go. I could tell. It was in her eyes, how she was looking at me.” Another falter. His gaze grew distant. “I helped her.”

“How did you help her?” I grated out.

I couldn’t believe I was hearing this, but I was.

“I put the other needle in her arm, and I pushed the drugs in…fast.”

Another man had never made me physically sick, until now.

“That was the night she overdosed, wasn’t it?”

Deek didn’t answer. He was gone, off somewhere else in his head.

I had no clue what he was thinking about, but I knew it was the same night.

“Do you know what you just told me, Deek?”

His eyes were glazed over, and the cigar dropped from his hands. He didn’t notice.

He whispered, “Yeah.”

I looked up, and it was more a sixth sense. I felt her.

She never said a word.

I never heard the door open, or saw it open, but standing in the doorway, just behind her father, was Cheyenne. She’d heard the whole thing.

I reached into my pocket.

I pulled my phone out.

I called the police.54CheyenneI thought police stations were supposed to be busy late at night.