Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me

It only took a few minutes for it to be obvious that Max was making a point of going after Cam, except Cam seemed to be the only one who didn't see it. The hip-checks, the little elbow jabs, the nearly tripping him and doing anything to steal the puck or otherwise keep Cam from doing anything.

"Dude, back off; we don't have equipment or anything, remember? You're gonna hurt him," I cautioned, and Max just shrugged.

"Better toughen him up if a little bump like that's gonna hurt him," was his reply, making me angry.

"Look," I said, my voice getting quieter and deeper as I approached him, not wanting everyone else to hear. "You can be mad at him all you want, but he had nothing to do with your contract, got it? And if you bugger up my winger I'll mess you up, you understand? He's got bad knees and I don't want anything to happen to him, he's like my little brother," if that didn't scare the shit out of Max I didn't know what would. Anybody who knew any of us Staal brothers knew that if you messed with one, you messed with all four of us. And needless to say, you lost when you messed with the four of us.

"Sure, sure," he shrugged me off and skated away, leaving me angry enough that I wanted to follow him and punch him in the face. That was just unsportsmanlike, and I couldn't believe Max was acting like this; it seemed just so out of character for the fun-loving guy we all knew.

"Talbot! I was talking to you!" I hollered, but he refused to turn and look at me or even acknowledge that I'd said something.

"Gronk, you okay?" Tanger asked, and I shook my head.

"He's got it out for Cam, and he's not gonna stop," I told my friend, who shook his head.

"Stupid; it's not like Cam did anything wrong. Shit, if anything Neal's the only one who has a reason to be angry with him,"

"Yeah, and Cam feels awful about that. But Max had already signed long before Ray and Dan even knew who he was, so what the fuck?" Tanger shrugged, not knowing what to tell me. Who knew what was going through Max's head right now.

"I know, and I don't like it either. I guess all we can do is keep an eye out for him, and make sure Max doesn't do anything stupid," he sighed, skating over to everyone else. I followed, not knowing what else to do right now.

We continued to play, Max's behavior getting worse as we went. Cam pushed the puck up to Matt before Max checked him into the sideboards, the second time in about ten minutes, but this time Cam hit the boards and the ice hard.

"Cool it Max! We aren't wearing any equipment!" Brooks called, as if a guy could just forget that.

"What? So it's okay for Jordy to give me a bump into the boards?" he asked, daring us to contradict him.

"What's with you today?" Sid asked, sounding as frustrated as I was, as Matt skated over to Cam to give him a hand.

"No, it's okay; I'm fine," Cam weakly insisted, and Matt left the puck to skate over and help him up.

"I'm fine," he hissed as Matt put an arm around him to help him. I knew from the way his teeth were gritted and his hand on his side that he was hurt. Fuck, all we needed was the kid to get hurt before the season started.

"Whatever," Max rolled his eyes, skating away from me.

"Talbot! I was talking to you!" I hollered, but he kept skating as if he couldn't hear me. I looked over to the bench beside the rink, and saw Cam sitting there, obviously in pain.

"What is his problem?" Neal asked, skating up to me. I shook my head, watching Max carefully in case he tried anything stupid.

"He's all made at Cam because he didn't get re-signed; he's blaming Cam for it," I shook my head, unable to comprehend Max's rationale. If the Penguins didn't know who Cam Bates was at the beginning of summer how could Cam have replaced him or stole his spot?

"'He is being an idiot, isn't he?" Neal asked, shooting our teammate a glance before his eyes narrowed slightly at the guy we all used to look up to.

"Yeah," I nodded, not trusting myself to say much more.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I am 'ungry; want to go back to my place?" Marc asked, obviously done playing as he pulled his goalie mask off.

"Yeah, I could definitely eat," Sid agreed, and when Brent made his way over from his net, taking off some equipment as he went we all knew the game was over. I skated over to Cam, who was still breathing hard where he was sitting on the bench. Matt was sitting beside him, unsure as to what he should do.

"Want me to take a look at your ribs?" I asked, reaching for the edge of his jacket. He flinched away from me, and I was confused. Did it hurt bad enough that the tug of the material caused him pain?"

"N-no, that's okay. They're fine," he choked out, and I raised an eyebrow.

"You don't sound fine Cam," I told him, and still he refused to look at me.

"Cam don't ignore it or you'll get hurt worse; let Gronk check it out," Sid agreed, but Cam just violently shook his head.

"I… I'll have Becka check it out, I promise," he blurted out a moment later, and I nodded, satisfied with that.

"Okay. I think we're heading back to Marc's place now," I informed him, untying his skates like I always used to do for Jared as a kid.

"It's fine Jordan; I can do it," he insisted, but let out a sound of pain as he reached for his skate. I put a hand on his shoulder and slowly pushed him back until he was sitting straight.

"Just let me do it; I don't want my winger out for the start of the season," I told him, trying to turn it into a joke. The corner of his lip lifted, and I got the feeling that was as much of a smile as I was going to manage.

"What the… kid can't even—" I shot Max a death glare, glad that Brooks had cuffed him upside the back of the head and cut off yet another jab at our new teammate.

"Jordan you're over-reacting, I'm fine," he insisted, but I gave him a look that said no arguing, and he shut his mouth. I finished untying his skates and pulled them off of his feet before moving his boots to where he could put his feet in them.

"Thanks," his voice was hardly more than a whisper, and I knew he must loathe feeling like he couldn't do things for himself. Sid was the same way, but the difference was Sid could accept help when he really needed it; the concussion was helping him a lot with that, realizing he wasn't Iron Man and that it was okay to ask for help. Cam obviously hadn't come to that realization yet.

"Anytime Cam," I said, patting his knee once as I stood up. I took my skates off as quickly as was possible before picking up both mine and Cam's equipment to put in my car.

"Here," I looked back to see Neal giving Cam a hand; it looked like even walking was hurting his side. Just great, now the lines would get screwed around and Cam would lose the experience of pre-season games, and then go into a real game and be nervous as fuck.

"Thanks Neal," just as I had Neal shrugged off his help to our new teammate.

"We're teammates; it's what we do," I nodded as I got into my vehicle and started the engine. Cam was silent beside me, and I wondered whether he wanted to be left alone or if I should talk to him.

"He really, really hates me, doesn't he?" Cam quietly asked a moment later. I sighed, not knowing what to tell him. I don't think Max hated him, but was bitter and blamed him for what happened.

"I don't think 'hate' is the right word Cam," I started, and he let out a ragged laugh that turned into a groan of pain. "But he's bitter as shit and blames you. So he's not your biggest fan."

"Well I could see that, but to be fucking shoving me around out there? We were supposed to be playing for fun," he growled, and I could understand why he was upset. We only had another two weeks until our pre-season started, and if Max did any damage Cam wouldn't be seeing any ice time.

"Yeah, I know. I'm pissed as hell at him," I said, and left the conversation there as Cam stared out the window the entire way to Marc's house. Hopefully Max wouldn't pull anymore stunts; I knew Eric and Marc's pre-season didn't start for five more days; more than enough time to come to Pennsylvania so we could lay a beating on his ass.