The Game That Breaks Us (5 page)

“Grace!” Elle cries, concern leaching into her voice as she blindly reaches for me.

“Must be my lucky night,” the guy mocks, his breath reeking of booze. “A two for one deal.”

“Let. Her. Go.” 

My eyes dart toward the stairwell to see Ryland standing there now, fists clenched at his sides. The muscle in his jaw ticked. 

“You want in on the action?” the guy holding me asks. “I’m not really into sharing, but you can have them when I’m done.”

“I said, let her go.” Ryland stalks forward the smallest bit more.

“Or what?”

“Or this.” Ryland runs forward in a crouched position, taking out the guy at the knees—they both fall to the ground and I am propelled forward into Elle. She holds onto me and keeps me from falling into the guys. Ryland and the guy throw punch after punch at each other. Ryland finally gains the upper-hand and ends up on top of the guy. He lands a solid punch to his face, and when the guy no longer hits back, he holds him by the collar of his shirt. 

“You
never
treat a woman like that. You’re the reason all men get a bad rep.” He lets go of the guy and he falls back like a useless lump on the ground. Ryland stands up and wipes his bloodied knuckles on his shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks us.

“I am,” I answer. “Elle?”

She shakes, and it’s only then that I realize she’s crying. “He-he … I don’t know what he might’ve done if you hadn’t shown up,” she tells him. “And then you.” She turns her gaze to me. “I can’t believe you defended me after what a bitch I was to you.”

“Us girls have to stick together,” I tell her. 

She bites her lip and surprises me by saying, “I’m sorry. You’re not so bad.”

“Hey,” Ryland says, interrupting us. “Why don’t I drive you guys back to your dorm? I don’t want you walking out there alone.”

I look to Elle for her opinion. She nods.

“Thanks,” I tell Ryland. “We’d appreciate it.”

I wrap my arms around Elle and we start down the steps together. She’s shaken after what just happened; I am too, but not as much as she is and I want her to know I’m here. I’m scared to think about what would’ve happened if I got there only a minute later.

Ryland leads us out to his car—a beat-up Toyota—and I help Elle into the back. Between her encounter with the guy and the alcohol in her system, her legs are barely holding her up. There’s no way we could’ve walked back to campus. I would’ve had to call a cab.

I slide into the passenger seat, and Ryland starts the car. I shiver and he turns the heat on. I glance back at Elle. I don’t like the glazed look in her eyes, and I’m worried something was slipped in her drink. 

“Are you okay?” I ask her, worry leaking into my tone.

She nods woodenly, staring out the window as Ryland pulls away from the curb.

I don’t believe her.
How could she be okay?
Anyone would be shaken up after something like that.

Heats blasts out of the vents, and I welcome it. It’s late, nearly two in the morning, and all I want to do is go to sleep. I lean my head back and stare out the window at the passing houses. The houses soon give way to businesses and then we’re back at campus.

I tell Ryland the best place to drop us off and I hop out, going around to get Elle who’s passed out in the back now. I manage to get her awake enough that she gets out of the car and can rest against me.

“Thanks for this,” I tell Ryland. 

“What’s your number?” he asks. He quickly adds, “So we can meet up and I can give you that tour tomorrow.” He smiles shyly. 

I rattle off my phone number, and he enters it into his phone. “I’ll text you,” he says.

I nod and lift my hand in goodbye. 

Elle and I make our way back to the dorm. I have to basically drag her up the steps and into the building.

I finally get her inside our room and she collapses on her bed.

I do the same. I’m too tired to change, and for once, I’ll have to commit the sin of sleeping in my makeup.

Before I fall asleep, I hear Elle whisper, “Welcome to college.”

My feet thump against the ground as I run.

I run hard, and I run fast.

I shouldn’t. I
know
I shouldn’t. The last thing I need to do is blow out my already compromised knee, but I have to run. It’s the only thing that can clear my head.

My head’s a mess lately. Between the injury and the negative media attention, my life has gone to shit. I had it all, and now I have nothing but grains of sand running through my fingers. 

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I made matters worse by helping out Grace yesterday. 

Fuck.
Grace
. Her looks were what first caught my eye, but it turns out I actually liked her. Spending the afternoon with her had been nice. I’d felt like the old me, the me before hockey and fame went to my head and ruined every-fucking-thing. I wasn’t going to let it ruin things anymore. I could get my shit together, prove to the world that I was more than a playboy, that hockey really was my life—because it
was
. It was everything. Without hockey, I had nothing. I’d been playing basically since I could walk. My dad had played too—not professionally, but the sport had been everything to him and he’d wanted to share it with me. So, yeah, maybe he’d pushed me into it, but this was what I wanted to. The last year and a half or so I’d forgotten that, and let the money, the parties, the
lifestyle
get to me. With beautiful women throwing themselves at you, it was impossible not to indulge in the puck bunnies. Fuck, even some of the married guys were known to do it, so why was I targeted by the media so fucking much? I was pretty much always followed by the fuckers, and they rarely had anything good to say about me. It was like someone had it out for me. 

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I needed to get back out on the ice. I needed to start training again.

But I knew Coach Harrison wasn’t going to let me do that. He was going to stick to his word and wait until my leg had loosened up—so I’d make sure it got there as soon as possible.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The sun began to rise above the tall gothic style buildings that dotted campus. Even I had to admit that Addams University was pretty damn nice. It was a beautiful location and only thirty minutes from where I grew up.

Speaking of, my mom would be wondering where I was. I promised to meet her and my dad for breakfast at a little diner halfway between campus and home. I turned back around and jogged toward the dorms—that was part of the condition Coach had for working with me; I had to stay in a dorm. My apartment in Boston was only two hours away, and I would’ve gladly made the drive every day, but he wouldn’t have it. He said something about, “That shiny apartment of yours will only inflate your already inflated head, Bennett. It’s time to come back down to Earth.”

So here I was, back on campus, living in the fucking dorms. 

I’d say it was the fucking Circle of Life, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The dorm is in sight so I slow to a walk. With the sun only beginning to rise, the campus is dead. I’m the only one crazy enough to be up at this time. Once upon a time, I would’ve never even been to bed yet. 

I lift my formerly-injured leg onto the stairs and use them to stretch the stiff muscle.  

Playing right wing, I was constantly getting hit and doing the hitting. Hockey is a fucking aggressive sport. My injury, though, hadn’t happened on the fucking ice. Oh, no, this idiot fell down a mountain because I was trying to save my fucking beer. I’m never drinking again.

I stand with my hands on my hips, breathing in and out deeply trying to catch my breath.

I like this time of morning.

The peace. 

It is one of the only times I ever feel that wholly calm feeling. I know all too soon campus will be packed and soon word would spread that I am here. There will be the ones who revere me and the ones who hate me. I’m not ready for all the attention. The questions. The speculation as to why I am here. The only people who know I am on campus at this moment are the dean, Coach, and Grace—and she obviously doesn’t know who I am. Most of the freshman arriving yesterday haven’t noticed me, either, since they are too busy finding their way around campus. That will all be a different story soon.

I finish stretching and head inside the building.

When I attended school here, I’d had a shared dorm, but this time, Coach had mercy on me and made sure I got a single since I wasn’t actually a student. The room is small, barely enough room to turn around in. It’s definitely nothing like my apartment in Boston. I swing the door open to my room and inhale the stale air. It smells like disinfectant.

My tennis shoes squeak on the linoleum floor and I take a seat on the lumpy mattress. I kick off my shoes and flop back on the bed. I know I need to get in the shower. My mom will be calling if I’m late for our eight o’ clock breakfast, and the last thing I want is to upset her—especially with all the shit I’ve put her through. 

I rub my hands over my face. I have to make things better. Not just with my mom, but with everyone. I have to be the person everyone expects me to be.

I have to become respectable and not the laughing stock of the NHL.

Fuck. My. Life.

I grab my clothes from the dresser and smell them—yeah, they’re clean—and head into the small-attached bathroom. It’s so small that it makes my room look like a fucking mansion. 

The water in the shower is either scalding or too cold, with no in-between, and I seem to have no way to control it. It’s Russian roulette as to what I’ll get.

I step inside and am pelted with shards of ice. 

I shower as quickly as I can and get out, drying off my hair and getting dressed before I catch frostbite. 

I check my phone, and sure enough, there’s a missed call from my mom. She worries about me more than she should—scratch that, I’ve given her every reason in the world to worry about me.

I stuff my phone in my pocket. I’ll call her back once I’m in the car. I grab my wallet and check the room to make sure I’m not forgetting anything and spot my gym bag. Yeah, I’ll need that. As soon as I get back to campus, I’m hitting the gym. 

I head out of my room, keeping my head low in the off chance that there’s someone in the hall. I doubt anyone is in this building but me. It usually only houses upperclassmen, and they probably won’t arrive until Sunday. 

It takes me ten minutes to get from the dorm to the garage where I park my car. My mom’s going to be standing on her head by the time I call her back.

I start my car and my phone hooks up to the Bluetooth.

“Call Mom,” I say.

“Calling Mona.”

“No. Call
Mom
,” I yell at the stupid piece of shit.

“Calling Papa John’s.”

“Why the fuck is Papa John’s in my phone?” I mutter as it starts ringing. “Shit,” I curse and quickly end the call. I end up dialing my mom myself.

“Hello? Bennett? Where are you?”

“I’m on my way, Mom,” I tell her, speeding down the highway.

“Don’t speed.”

I eye my speedometer and back it off. “I’m not.”

“Don’t you know you can’t lie to your mother, Bennett?”

I rub the back of my hand. “Yeah, I know.”

She laughs on the end. “We’ll see you soon. Sabrina’s coming too.”

“Great,” I say, sarcasm leaking into my tone.

“Be nice,” she warns.

“I’m always nice.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums. “We’ll see you soon.”

I love my sister, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes she can be a judgmental thorn in my side and with the shit storm that’s my life right now I don’t need to hear it from her too. Right now, what I need is my family on my side. 

There’s barely any traffic since it’s so early, and a Saturday at that, so I make it to the diner only two minutes late.

I head inside and back to the booth that my mom always chooses. I spot her and my dad on one side and she waves, bouncing in her seat. She’s always so happy to see me, and it makes me feel like an ass for not visiting more when I live so close.