Page 19 of Breaking Point (IceHawks #1)

Bella

WHITEBOARD NOTE

Thank you for seeing me

“ H e did what ?” Layla exclaims, dropping the small box in her hands.

“Layla!” I scold, rushing to pick it up. Relief crashes through me once I see it doesn’t contain fragile items. Gently placing it right side up, Layla remains staring at me, dumbfounded.

“When was this?” she asks, her voice an octave higher than normal.

I move around her still frame and toward my mom’s house. “Last week.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this, I don’t know, as soon as it happened?”

I shrug, averting my eyes as I move through the house to my old childhood bedroom. It’s the bare bones of my old teenage room, minus the evidence of my obsession with One Direction. “No, not particularly.”

“Well, what did you say?”

“No, of course. ”

“Of course?” She scoffs. “And why would that be an of course reaction?”

After placing the small boxes in my arms on the bed, I turn to my best friend, peering past her shoulder because I can’t lie to her while looking her in the eye. It seems lying is my new thing, because I also lied to Grayson.

“Because I’m his assistant, not his fake girlfriend.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the wall. “The idea feels dirty…like I’m being used.”

Layla’s brows rise. She’s quiet for a moment before she cocks her head. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, the red strands swishing over her shoulder as she stares at me. “You’re lying.”

I snort as I turn away, making myself busy. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh my god, you are. What’s the real reason you said no?”

Spinning on my heel, I rush out of the bedroom, heading for the small moving truck filled with the contents of my life. I chose to put my furniture in a storage unit so it’s just the boxes for now.

“No other reason, Layla. I’m sure if someone propositioned you to be a pretend girlfriend you would also feel like a piece of meat being bought.”

Her small feet pad after me. “How did he react when you turned him down?”

Now that makes me pause. “Uh…okay I guess. He was slightly panicked when he thought I was quitting.”

“Jesus, Bella.”

“What?” I ask innocently, passing a small box to Layla and hefting a heavy one into my arms.

“He likes you, doesn’t he?”

“No!” I declare, my voice rising without my permission. Clearing my throat, I try again, moving toward the house. “No, of course not. I’m nothing more than an assistant.”

I’m glad my mom isn’t here to hear this conversation. Although it doesn’t feel right knowing she’s at an appointment with her doctor without me. But this was the only off day I had this week and everything needed to be moved.

“Besides, he’s been trying to fill the position.” The words taste like acid on my tongue and I’m no fool, I know the burning in my lungs is not from exertion.

Layla pauses in my room, dropping the box in her arms on the floor. “Oh, he is?”

“Yes. Why does that surprise you?”

She shakes her head, her eyes never leaving mine. “Seems like it surprises you.”

“It’s for the best. I don’t need a media crazy life, not when my priority needs to be my mom.”

Layla hums as we walk back out to the moving van. “That’s true. The puck bunnies would eat you alive and you’d never find peace on social media again.”

That makes me pause. “How do you know what a puck bunny is?’ I ask. Layla doesn’t watch hockey, or any sport for that matter.

She stumbles over nothing before righting herself and turning to me with flushed cheeks. “Reading is very educational.”

A small bubble of laughter forms in my chest. “Layla, care to share what has you blushing so fiercely?”

“No,” she squeaks, rushing past me and down the driveway.

Once I catch up with her, she has a heavy box in her hands and I’m about to pry it out of them but then I stop myself. Layla knows her limits; she doesn’t need her best friend coddling her.

“Did he offer to pay you?”

I grimace as I grab another box. “Ugh, yes. Which just made me feel even dirtier.” There is nothing wrong with being charged money for services, nothing at all. But this is not how I envisioned my life.

I didn’t expect to be twenty-six, living with my mom, working an assistant job in a field I have no desire to be in after being fired by one of the largest tech organizations in America, and now being propositioned to fake date a famous hockey player.

It’s all surreal, but even with all those emotions, it’s not the real reason I said no.

I knew I needed to say no the moment excitement filled my chest instead of dread at the thought of having to touch him and be closer to him. My need to say no only solidified itself when he grabbed my wrist in the driveway and goosebumps lined my arms.

The real reason I said no was because my heart was too eager to say yes, and there is nothing more dangerous in this world than a blue-eyed, charismatic, shy man staring at you like you are the answer to his prayers.

“Was it just the one time he asked?”

I shrug, slamming the door to the now empty moving van closed. “Not exactly.”

I’ve avoided him like the plague for the past week, purposely doing my tasks when he’s at practice or with his physiotherapist. He knows I’m dodging him; it’s why he’s resorted to leaving me notes on the whiteboard.

Notes that make my chest ache, and not in a painful way.

Yesterday’s one made my stomach flutter. He’s growing bolder by the day.

I’m beginning to think you enjoy torturing me.

First you deny me the pleasure of your company, and now there’s no more brownies in my fridge?

I thought I was a patient man before this. Don’t make me beg.

He found my response no doubt after practice.

I wouldn’t mind seeing you beg.

After all, the brownies are delicious. I think they're worth the effort, don’t you?

It didn’t start out flirty. Believe me, if it had, I would have told him to shove his hockey stick up his ass. But over the passing week it just…evolved. I can’t help it, the man is easy to flirt with.

Although, not all the notes have been flirty.

Some asked me to reconsider the proposition.

In others he thanked me for the food I cooked for him, the laundry I cleaned, the coffee I made.

He’s thanked me for every minuscule task, even going so far as complimenting what I wore that day.

Which was when I found out the hard way he was checking his Ring camera as I entered his house.

That should have freaked me out, but the idea of Grayson checking his camera every morning to catch a small glimpse of me only resulted in warmth filling my belly.

On one particular day, he left me two notes, one on the whiteboard and another tucked under my favorite candle in his house. It was a compliment of the sweater I had worn the day prior. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say his writing was a little shakier than normal.

I’d do unspeakable things to see you in red again.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I held that note to my chest…along with pocketing every paper note he leaves me. I began storing them all in a box under my bedside table. That said box is currently now stashed in my car because I’d die of mortification if anyone found them.

I’d look like a love sick puppy, and I am anything but. They just…brighten my day, that’s all.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I flop onto my bed, Layla doing the same as sweat beads along her brows. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to consider it.”

I’ll just have to deal with the burning hot flush that enters my bloodstream anytime I think about another woman touching him or being close to him. I’ll just have to deal with seeing their smiling photos online and in magazines.

God, I’ll probably have to see her around the house too. Though, I’m doing a fantastic job at avoiding Grayson, I’m sure I’ll be able to avoid her as well.

Sitting up, Layla pops her head in her hand. “Fine, if you won’t fill today with good news, then I will.”

Scrambling up on the bed, my eyes search hers to find them wide with such joy, hope, and happiness that tears spring forth as I ask, “Did they contact you? Did you hear from Berlin?”

She nods her head feverishly before she whispers, “Yes, all the stars you wished upon worked. I’m going to Berlin. They’ve accepted me into their trial?— ”

Layla cuts off as I fling myself at her with a scream.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy but I’m so happy for you!” I can’t help it, I start crying, big heaving sobs that only spur on Layla’s tears.

The sound of the front door opening can’t drag us away from the excited tears spilling down our cheeks.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” my mom asks, rushing into the room much faster than she should.

Layla smiles through her watery gaze as she announces, “I’m going to Berlin for a year. One of their candidates dropped out of the experimental program.”

My mom’s eyes widen before they, too, fill with tears, and not long after all three of us are hugging one another as we weep.

Perhaps miracles do happen.

L ayla stayed well into the evening, joining my mom and me for dinner and several documentaries on true crime that, in all honesty, Layla should be watching considering she’s the most gullible and kindhearted person I know and she’s about to be alone in a foreign country.

Now brushing my teeth after the long day, I should be thinking about how much I’m going to miss my best friend, about how happy I am for her at her shot of hope with her health, but instead, all I can think about is the note I found tucked under the candle in Grayson’s living room.

I’d do unspeakable things to see you in red again.

I’m fixating on the note so thoroughly that I jump when I catch my mom standing behind me in the bathroom mirror. Yelping, I quickly rinse my mouth and spin. “You scared the crap out of me!”

She chuckles softly. “I called your name three times, love. ”

Sheepish, I can’t help but blush at the reason why I was distracted. “Sorry, I was just going through a mental list of what I have to do tomorrow.”

Not that far from a lie. I was reviewing my mental list…before the note.

“You and your lists.” She chuckles. “And what’s on the agenda?”

Leaning back against the bathroom sink, my eyes do a quick sweep of her, noting the fatigue evidently present. “First order of business is asking how your meeting went today with your oncologist.”

I didn’t think it was possible but her body grows heavier, slumping. “Let’s at least sit down for this.”

A lump rises in my throat, emotion catching at the weariness in her tone. Maybe I should have left it for tomorrow, left today a happy celebration of Layla and her chance at recovery and answers.

Sitting perpendicular to her on the living room sofa, the crackle and pop of the fire fills the silence as we stare at one another.

In most people’s houses, the kitchen is the heart of the home, but for us, it’s always been the living room.

The deep gray softness of the lounging chairs, the wooden coffee table my mom and dad built by hand, the family photos I tore down in a rage that horrible first week she was diagnosed, only for my mom to hang the frames back up.

I don’t know how she can stand to look at the photos but when she caught me with a black Sharpie in hand, she scolded me, telling me that just because our present has changed it doesn’t take away from the happiness we felt in the past.

It was the first of many things we disagreed on.

He altered everything, made me look back at memories and view them differently. He ruined our family, and there’s no part of me that remembers him with fondness. He placed a permanent black cloud over what used to be.

“Did you bring your art supplies in? I didn’t see them in your room,” my mom says, pulling me from my desolate thoughts .

I quirk a brow. “Delaying telling me news, are we?”

“Avoiding the question, are we?” she parrots.

Huffing, I nestle deeper into the couch, staring at my mom’s brown hair.

It looks like her natural hair, but it’s a wig.

The day the first hair clump fell out was the day she picked up the buzz cutter.

She said cancer had grasped control of the reins of her life and she was tired of it driving her vehicle.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat at the memory, I admit, “It’s in storage.” Before she can harp on me about getting back into drawing, I lean forward. “Please, Mom, just rip the Band-Aid off. No more secrets, remember? What about your daily confession? Can this be it?”

Something weighted passes through her eyes. Her posture changes, as if she’s readying for battle. “It’s not bad news, per se.”

That has me straightening.

Rubbing her temple, she takes a deep breath and raises her brown eyes to mine. It’s like staring in a mirror, we’re nearly identical. “Dr. Stewart informed me that a new drug was released to the market.” She holds up her hand as a smile works across my face. “I had to turn him down today.”

“What?” I scream, jumping to my feet and instantly apologizing for the level of my voice as my mom winces, no doubt a headache pounding against her skull. “Mom, why the hell would you say no? Nothing else is working.”

“It’s not that simple, Bella. Because it’s a new drug, insurance won’t cover it.”

Every ounce of hope that was blossoming in my chest deflates in an instant. “H-how much is it?” I stutter, slowly sitting once again.

“Far too much to consider, and I refuse to put you into any more debt than you already are. We cannot afford it.”

“You can’t put a price on your life, Mom.”

“Well, you can and they have. It’s…a large price.” Her lips flatten into a thin line. “I’m sorry, Bella, but?—”

“How much?” I probe. She shakes her head, so I ask again, firmer this time. “How much? ”

“It’s brutal, and the process is lengthy with the medicine requiring different dosages and forms of consumption?—”

“How much?” I repeat.

“Fourteen thousand dollars,” she whispers. And something blooms within me again until it’s crushed entirely as she adds, “A month.”

I’m earning a lot—enough to slowly pay off the hospital bills that have been racking up, enough to support my mother—but this?

She’s right, I’d go into debt. I could scrounge up five thousand, maybe push to eight thousand a month and continue to let the bills and debt climb, but then I’d barely have enough to feed us.

Something deeply unsettling occurs as I watch the very hope drain from my mother’s body. I have known for months, and yet it only truly sinks in at this moment.

My mom is dying, and there is nothing I can do to stop it from happening.