Page 15 of Breaking Point (IceHawks #1)

Grayson

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C oach Anderson slams the tabloid magazine down on his desk so hard the papers in the surrounding area go flying in all directions. I can’t help but close my eyes as another one of my failures is shoved down my throat.

“Are you fucking joking ?” he bellows. “I’ve been lenient with you, Crawford. I have been so lenient you have no idea how far I’ve stretched but this has gone too fucking far!”

“Coach—”

“Don’t you ‘Coach’ me. Don’t say a fucking word!”

He’s fuming and rightfully so, but he’s terrifying all the same .

Coach Anderson’s neck is flushed such a deep red I’m beginning to wonder if he’s stopped breathing altogether. The shaggy brown hair that he cuts close to his scalp is peppered with gray hairs on the side. Those might be my doing too.

I royally fucked up.

I knew it the moment I opened my bleary eyes from a night of drinking with little to no recollection and found my phone blowing up on my bedside table.

I also knew it the moment I clicked on one of the many links sent to me and it opened to a video on the internet with millions of views.

Showing the moment I assaulted a paparazzo.

My attack was captured in 4k, posted and blasted online for the world to see. For the world to mock, shame, and ridicule me on another colossal mistake.

The world watched as I was drunk, hammered out of my mind, screaming profanities at the man who asked me if I drink every day because I killed my brother.

It hurt because he hit too close to home but none of the videos contain that moment when he sneered the insult my way, baiting me. The edited versions and screenshots and clipped moments only show my raging face flushed with pure unadulterated anger.

I’ve always been able to shake off their baits. Have always been able to ignore it, but this one… This one flew into my mind, nestled deep, and took root.

Yesterday was not the day to make that comment, not after seeing all of Drew’s baseball gear. My mind was already so fragile that the comment sent me over the edge.

No one has told me I killed my brother besides myself. This asshole was the first to finally guess why my life has been imploding, and now I feel as if it’s about to explode further.

Part of me is grateful that snide comment didn’t make it into any of the videos, because then people would know how I truly feel and I’m not ready for anyone to pull me out of the hole I’ve dug myself.

Coach flops into his chair behind the desk and heaves. “I can’t help you this time, Grayson. ”

The softness in his tone, the quick switch, has my head snapping up.

“Sir, I understand my actions are despicable. I know that,” I say, clutching my chest. “He made a comment about Drew and I lost my shit?—”

He holds up his hand. “I understand. Unlike the rest of the world I know what the reporter spat at you. The thing is, I’ve done everything to keep you on this team and I think you just hit the final nail in your coffin .”

To keep me on the team?

I straighten in my seat, my hungover suddenly forgotten. “What are you saying?”

Panic engulfs my body, a feeling finally other than unending sadness, and yet I’m dreading the words that are going to come out of his mouth.

“Your contract is up for renewal. The higher-ups are over the PR nightmare you’ve become and you’re no longer performing how you used to.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Grayson, they’ve got another player they’re looking to trade in.”

“No.” It tumbles out of my mouth as quickly as my heart plummets.

I haven’t felt such a blind panic since the night Drew and I got in the car accident.

Who knew all it would take to revive my dead heart would be the loss of my found family?

“There has to be something I can do. Please, this is all I have left. I shouldn’t have come back as quickly as I did. I needed more time, Anderson.”

“I know, son, but my hands are tied. They’ll be making a final decision in three months when your contract expires.”

For the first time since the doctor at the hospital informed me that my baby brother died, I put my head in my hands and weep.

I believe Coach Anderson when he said his hands are tied.

I believe him when he said he’s been saving my ass for the last year.

I also believe him when he put his arm around me and whispered that I still have a fighting chance.

A chance to stay on the team that I dreamed of being drafted to since I was eight.

I was wrong before; I was so wrong. I still have a reason to breathe, and it is this team.

Drew would be so disappointed in me. He’d be disgusted I let myself fall so deep.

But I can change it.

I have three months. Three months to get my shit together. Three months to try and turn my life around from the dumpster fire it’s become.

Coach was smart to call Kieran to drive me home.

I haven’t been able to stop crying. It’s as if every ounce of emotion I’ve been suppressing with the alcohol is rising and I can’t stop it.

I have no shame in crying, not an ounce, but it hurts.

So fucking deeply I’m struggling to breathe. Struggling to keep my head above water.

Kieran pulls up to the front of my house and turns off his truck but he doesn’t get out. He side-eyes Lucy’s sedan in my driveway and quickly turns to me.

“Are you ready for this?”

“Ready for what?” I ask, surprised to find my voice hoarse. It feels like I’ve swallowed razor blades.

“To get your shit together.”

Swallowing thickly, I admit, “I don’t think I have a choice.”

He pauses, watching me. “You always have a choice. You can let the team go and become a drunk or you can work through your grief and become the player Drew was proud to be related to.”

His words are a slap to the face, but I need to hear them. Something tells me Kieran knows it’s time he spoke them.

I need to know the truth. No more denial, no more haze. No more suppressing.

Kieran stares at me like my next words are the most important ones I’ll ever speak, but I don’t need time to know what I want to do .

“I want my life back,” I admit gutturally. “I don’t want to wake up feeling like I was the one who should have died in that car wreck.”

Now it looks like I slapped Kieran.

His mouth opens and closes, a thousand thoughts and words flying through his eyes before he slowly dips his chin.

“I’ve got you, buddy. You won’t be doing this alone.

Let’s go fix this.” He moves first, opening the driver’s side door before he stops.

“For the record, Grayson, I miss Drew. Truly, I do, and I would do anything to have him here with us again, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wake up every morning and thank the stars you’re still alive. ”

My hand pauses on the door handle. My heart stutters at his words and for once they don’t go in one ear and out the other. His gratitude settles throughout my body and nestles into my heart.

“You have people here that love you, Grayson. Don’t forget that,” he adds before it’s followed by the slam of his truck door.

I barely have the time to process how that makes me feel before he’s opening my door and cocking his head, motioning toward my house.

“Come on, let’s go speak with the she-devil. ”

The corner of my lip tips up into a grin. “Knew you couldn’t stay mushy with me for long.”

Kieran winks those blue eyes so similar to mine as I slide out of his truck. “You should be kissing my feet, Crawford, because you’re the only one who sees that side.”

A bubble of laughter rises but never escapes.

The first thing I notice as I enter my home is not the tense voice of my agent on the phone but the citrus scent that lingers in the hallway.

Bella.

It’s the first time I’ve managed to take a deep breath since I walked into Coach’s office, the first breath that doesn’t hurt, and it shocks me when I realize I’m searching for her as I make my way to the lounge room.

Why is it that the worst thing that could happen to me is occurring and I’m instead looking for her in every room I pass?

“I’ll have to call you back,” Lucy says, quickly ending her call as I take a seat on the couch. She turns, addressing me. “Do you need another lecture, or should I just get into how we’re going to fix this?”

I shake my head. “I know I fucked up, Lucy, and I hope I can confidently say this is the last time I’ll do this.

” When I lift my eyes to hers, I find her gaze hard as she stands before me in a no-nonsense pantsuit.

She’s brought her A game. “I want to stay on the team. They’re my family,” I croak out, the last word splitting something inside my chest.

It makes Lucy pause, her lips pursing.

“What is it?” Kieran asks. “You’re holding something back.”

I have no idea how Kieran can read people so well. It’s his superpower and I’m not questioning it; he’s never been wrong before.

Sitting forward, I lean my arms on my knees. “If there is something I need to know, say it.”

“They’re considering filling your position with a Michigan Bulls player.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kieran spits, instantly on edge as Lucy mentions our rival team.

We always end up playing against them in the Stanley Cup. The rivalry and competition has grown over the past four years to such an imaginable feat that whenever we play one another, fans take bets on how many fights will break out.

“Who are they considering trading in?”