Page 57 of Breaking Point (IceHawks #1)

Bella

BELLA

you changed the code?

Grayson, please talk to me and let me know what’s wrong

At least tell me if Bambi is okay

please, Grayson

M y heart is pounding, my mouth is dry, and my hands are shaking as I clutch the steering wheel of my car.

I haven’t heard from Grayson in over two days.

I’ve run the last interaction in his kitchen through my mind a thousand times. I’ve gone so far as to text his agent to ask if I’ve been fired, which she responded with, You better not be.

The punch I felt in my gut as I tried to put the key code into his front gate, only to be denied, was hard. The last time I felt like my stomach heaved and a lump was in my throat was when we got the diagnosis for my mom’s ovarian cancer.

I prayed I’d never feel that way again and yet here I am, with a pit in my stomach for two agonizing days.

I know something is wrong, and I know for a fact it has nothing to do with me.

Call me delusional, optimistic, psychotic—I don’t care. All I care about is that no one has heard from him. Kieran sounded belligerent when I called him—far too drunk to help me—and it’s nearing two in the morning.

I cannot shake this feeling that something horrendous has happened. My intuition is screaming at me, and if that means I have to throw myself over the gate, I’ll do it. Grayson once did the same for me and it’s about time I returned his kind gestures.

My car skids to a stop outside the front of his large iron gate. I lock it behind me before muttering under my breath, “Here goes nothing.”

Shoving my left foot in between the iron slats, my foot is well above my hip by the time my toe finds purchase on the iron bar. Wrapping my hands around the gate, high above my head, I grit my teeth and pull myself up.

All the while, I curse myself for ever stopping my Pilates classes. I’m huffing and puffing by the time I drag myself over the top of the gate. Straddling the top beam, my legs begin to shake in earnest, and I snap my head upwards.

“Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t. Look. Down,” I chant.

Like the glutton for punishment that I am, I look down.

A squeal escapes me before I slam my eyes shut.

“I said don’t look down!” I berate myself.

Clenching my teeth, my brain apparently decides it’s best to proceed with my eyes shut.

The grip I have on the top of the iron grate is deadly, but as I swing my leg over the side and try to find the horizontal beam for support, my hands turn clammy.

My foot dangles in the cold night, feeling nothing but air.

The sound of a dog barking snaps my eyes open.

Everything grows quiet. The wind slows, the trees stop rustling, and the crickets grow silent.

Until it’s not soundless any longer.

Multiple barks ring out, the sound frantic and making my heart jump into my throat.

“I’m coming, Bambi!” I call out, but what little good that does. She can’t hear me.

Forcing myself to look down, I slide my hands down the iron bars as the feel of my toes landing on the horizontal beam has my heart sinking with relief.

I jump the last bit of space, pain slicing up my shins but I catch myself quickly with my hands and run.

The pounding of my feet is accompanied by Bambi’s hysterical barking.

If he left her here for days by herself, I am going to shove my foot so far up his ass that he’ll?—

As the trees part, I see a figure illuminated by the security light, wobbling from side to side. I come to a halt right as they finally tip over, their large hulking frame hitting the front walkway sounding like a boulder crashing into the side of a mountain.

Bambi is in the glass side panel beside the front door, her big fearful eyes cutting me to my core as she barks relentlessly at the figure.

“Excuseeee me, door, this is myyy home,” the figure slurs.

It takes a moment for the voice to hit. For the recognition to settle in.

It’s Grayson, fumbling around on the floor.

Wasted.

“What the fuck?” I snap.

His head rises at the sound of my shrill voice. The bleary blue eyes that stare back at me are red-rimmed, the bags under them deep and puffy, and his nose is bright red like Rudolph’s.

I know it’s cold. I can feel the icy wind slicing into my skin despite my layers, but the red around his eyes is different.

Grayson’s been crying.

The revelation saps any anger I had pulsing through my veins.

I approach him as if he were a startled animal in the middle of the highway, my steps slow and cautious as he tries to watch me through his heavy-lidded gaze.

Pain slices through my heart. He was doing well . He was about to hit two months sober.

Kneeling beside him, he gives me this sad, crooked, watery smile. “I know you. You’re minee .”

I shake my head at how belligerent he is. “Why?” I ask softly. “Why did you do this to yourself, Grayson? ”

I don’t expect much of a response considering the state he’s in, so I’m startled when he slurs, “The date. The very, veryyy important date.”

My brows furrow so deep I swear I can see them. “What date?”

He hiccups. “I forgot—” Hiccup. “My brother’s birthday.”

My heart stutters to a stop.

He lifts a finger between us. “My dead brother, by the way.” Another hiccup. “I never wanted”—he pokes my nose with his finger—“that look on your face. I wanted to keep your beautiful glances all to myself, without the pity.”

Little does he know, I found out about his brother weeks ago at the hockey game.

“Grayson, I don’t pity you,” I whisper, running my fingers through his disheveled hair. “My heart is breaking for you, but that’s not pity.”

He frowns at that. “Why is it breaking?”

Figuring he’s too drunk to remember this in the morning, I whisper, “Because it hurts me to see you hurt.”

He scoffs, saying the words that crack my heart further. “But I hurt all the time.”

Bambi lets out a pitiful whine, reminding me where we are. Pushing all my feelings away, I step into the role of the person he needs right now. Not the assistant with a crush who’s shattering at the pain behind his eyes.

“Did anyone see you drinking?” I whisper.

He purses his lips, eyes squinting. “I didn’t drink with puck bunnies if that’s what you’re asking.” He sighs. “I don’t like anyone but you, Blaze.”

I realize just how hard this is going to be with him drunk, all the while simultaneously trying not to have butterflies. He said it as if he’s accepted he’ll never like anyone else so long as he lives.

I can do my own digging on the internet to see if he got caught drinking or if he licked his wounds in solitude, which I hope is the latter considering that his spot on the team is at stake.

I slide my hands under his shoulders and grunt as I try to heave him up.

“Come on, big guy. Bambi is inside stressing out and you need to show her you’re okay. ”

He smirks. “You think I’m big?”

“ So not what’s important right now, Grayson.”

He blows a raspberry. “It feelsss important.”

“You think your dick size is more important than Bambi?”

He clumsily puts his feet beneath him and stands, leaning the majority of his hulking weight against me. “Well, when you put it that way, no.”

As we slowly stumble to the door, Grayson peering down at me with a dopey smile and me grunting against his heavy weight, I pant out, “Did you leave Bambi for two days?”

He straightens, pulling me to a sudden stop, causing us to almost topple over. “No! I was with her just a few hours ago. I would never do that, ever.”

Despite his slurred words and the way he can’t stand still, the sincerity and horror in his voice has my worry fading.

“Okay, I believe you.”

His shoulders sag. “She’s stressed but she kept licking my face, trying to stop me from drinking.” He scowls in her direction but it’s half-assed at best. “She’s too smart.”

I snort as I grab my key out of my pocket. “Good one, Bambi.”

“Pfft. If you killed your family member you wouldn’t want anyone getting in the way of yourrr drinking either.”

The jumble of words makes me freeze, my hand halfway to the door with my key.

Did he just say he killed his brother?

Taking a breath to steady myself, I push the key in the door. He keeps talking but his words sound like he’s underwater now, all the words beginning to slur together to the point I can’t understand him anymore.

The moment the front door opens, Bambi is upon him.

“ My girl !” Grayson exclaims, his tone suddenly cheerful despite the drunken confession.

I don’t urge him up the stairs right away, both to give him a moment with Bambi and to give myself a second to pull it together. This must be the real reason Grayson flew off the deep end for over a year.

Bambi, too smart for her own good, starts nudging Grayson with her nose toward the stairs, herding him like cattle. Grayson’s laughter is deep and gravelly and despite the heavy atmosphere he’s entirely unaware of, the sound still makes my heart perk up.

Laying a gentle hand on his back, I urge, “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay, I give consent,” he declares. “Take advantage of me, Blaze. I’ve been dying for your touch!”

I do my absolute best not to laugh, putting all my focus on making sure he doesn’t fall down the stairs and snap his neck. “You are going to sleep, and I am going to go downstairs.”

I don’t tell him I’ll likely stay in the corner chair in his room. I’m too scared to leave him alone to sleep. What if he rolls on his back and chokes on his vomit?

His sigh is heavy. “I had a feeling you would say that.” He hiccups as he spins, his eyes widening as he topples backward.

Unconcerned, even though he just fell on his ass, he peers up at me through his thick black lashes, with the saddest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Can you stay with me?” he whispers. “I can’t stop seeing his body. ”

The splinter through my heart cracks it completely, sending shock waves of pain throughout my body for the man breaking before me.

Bending so I’m at his eye level, I whisper, “I’ll stay with you for as long as you need me, but we need to get you into bed, okay?”

He nods furiously. “I’ll do whatever you want if it means you’ll stay.”

I help him rise again, thankful that we make it to his bedroom unscathed.

Grayson doesn’t slow down. He flops onto his stomach in his clothes on top of the covers. I don’t bother trying to get him dressed or under the sheets. I merely slip his shoes off and find a blanket in the closet, laying it gently over his body.

I’m not at all surprised to find his eyes shut, his breathing slow and even already. I’m just happy he’s on his stomach with his head to the side.

Without his prying eyes on me, I allow myself a moment to soak him in. To allow my mind to take in that he’s here and he’s safe. The anxiety and stress that had consumed me slowly ebbs out of my body, leaving a bone tiredness in its wake.

Except I know I won’t be able to sleep.

I was terrified something had happened. So incredibly fearful that I would never see him again that it made me realize how much I care for this man. That despite my best efforts to keep my heart locked away, it snuck out of its cage and ran directly to him.

Brushing my fingers through his shaggy brown hair, my eyes start to sting. I suck in a sharp breath to get my emotions under control and go to move away when Grayson’s hand suddenly darts out, his eyes remaining closed as he whispers, “Will it go away?”

“Will what?”

His eyes open now, and the bottomless pit of despair steals my breath. “The pain. Will it ever go away?”

I kneel beside the bed and roll my lips to give myself time. The truth is, I don’t know. It’s the thing I fear the most, that if my mom passes, I’ll be left with a gaping hole so large it will never be able to be repaired.

But Grayson doesn’t need to know that.

“Your love for your brother is so big and beautiful, Grayson, that I think you will always carry it with you.” My finger traces his sharp jawline, the stubble of his five o’clock shadow tickling my skin.

“You’ll feel that ache, but the pain will get lighter, and hopefully with time you can think back on the happy memories you had with him and cherish them.

” I lean forward, my heart urging me to soothe the hurt in his.

I plant a featherlight kiss on his forehead, emboldened that he won’t remember this in the morning, and whisper, “One day you’ll wake up and realize it’s not debilitating anymore, that it’s just a phantom ache you can live with. ”

His eyes pool with silver. “But how can I do that when I’m the one who took his life?

How can I move on with his blood on my hands?

” His voice cracks on the last word, a tear spilling down his cheek.

Before I can respond, his lip wobbles as he confesses, “I wish it were me. I wish it were me that died that day. It already feels like I did, but the world keeps moving and I don’t know how to stop it. ”

My vision blurs with tears. “Don’t say that, Grayson. Please don’t say that,” I plead.

“It’s the truth, though. I should have died that day. I’m a walking miracle they said…but I think it was my punishment to live on without him.”

“No one deserves to die, and you did not survive as a punishment,” I say vehemently. “If your brother was here, he would agree with me.”

“But that’s the thing, Blaze. He isn’t here.”

And with that Grayson closes his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks as he tumbles into a drunken slumber.

I need to know what happened. I need to know why he carries so much guilt.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I take a seat on the chair in the corner and pull my phone out.

GOOGLE SEARCH

Search: Grayson Crawford’s brother’s death