The Game That Breaks Us (22 page)

“Can’t you just switch teams?” I ask.

He glares at me like I’ve committed some sort of sin. “It doesn’t work like that. I signed a contract. I’m legally bound to this team for the remainder of the season.”

“Okay, so then can’t you be traded to another team?” As soon as the words leave my lips, my stomach flops. If Bennett’s traded that means he has to move and he won’t be in Boston. Then, I realize, that regardless, he’ll probably only need me a few more months at the most, and after that, we’ll probably never see each other again. I should be glad to be rid of him, but I’m not. I can’t imagine a day where I don’t see Bennett now. I’ve grown used to his presence.

Bennett shakes his head roughly. “He’d be too scared for me to go to another team. He’d think I could still spill the beans and that would be bad.”

“Why don’t you?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.

He sighs and looks away. “I idolized the guy for a long time. A long fucking time. And it … I don’t know. I guess I felt like I owed it to him to keep my mouth shut, but then he started fucking with me.”

“So tell someone,” I urge.

He shakes his head resolutely. “Who are people going to believe? The legend player turned coach or the alcoholic womanizer asshole?” 

I snort. “You’re none of those things. Okay, maybe
one
of those things, but you’re not as bad as you think.”

“Aw, thanks, Princess.” He presses a hand to his heart. “So which of those two things am I not?”

“Well, you’re definitely not an alcoholic. A few drinks here and there isn’t a bad thing. And you used to be, but you’re not a womanizer anymore.”

He chuckles and rubs his jaw. “So that makes me an asshole?” He fights a smile.

“Ding, ding we have a winner.” He shakes his head at my antics. “So,” I say, growing serious, “what are you going to do?”

He shrugs and stands, pulling off the sweater and dropping it on the bed. “I have no idea, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

He tries to sound positive, but the look on his face tells me he feels anything but sure of himself. I wish I knew how to help him, but he’s on his own with this one. 

Michael and I have been running drills for hours. I’ve gotten to know the guy pretty well, and he’s a nice dude with a future in hockey ahead of him. I’m sure of it. I don’t tell him that—I don’t want to give him false hope—but I already caught sight of some scouts at one of the home games, and I’m certain they were checking out Michael. He’s one of those players that exudes magic on the ice.  

We skate off the ice and head back to the locker room to shower and leave.

“Thanks for helping me out, man,” I say, tying the laces on my shoes.

Michael shrugs into his jacket. “No problem. Glad I could help. Besides, I need all the extra ice time I can get.” He grabs his bag and slings it onto his shoulder. “I’ll see you in the gym tomorrow. Coach says he wants us there early.”

I nod and shove my stuff into my bag. “See you later.”

Michael leaves and I’m alone in the locker room. I can’t help but take a moment to look around. It still looks the same as when I was here a few years ago. Ugly blue tiled walls and floors. Rows and rows of gray lockers and wooden benches. It’s your standard locker room, but to me, it feels like home. 

But it’s not the room that feels like home. It’s the feeling of
belonging
. I always felt like an outsider with the Hunters. Most of the guys don’t like me because I’m better than them. I’m not being cocky, it’s true, and no one wants someone better to come along because it jeopardizes spots on the team. In other words, older players begin to shake in their skates and fear being kicked off the team. 

Playing for the Hunters was my dream since they’re my home team, but the reality could never measure up to the dream. It wasn’t that professional hockey is harder than college hockey, though it is, it’s just … it’s not a good fit. We don’t mesh well. And maybe, with a different coach, we’d come together as a team, but I don’t see Matthews getting booted—though, I wish every day it would happen. 

I don’t know what my next step with Matthews is, but I know I have to get people on my side to back me up, which means I need to start by reaching out to the team. Not all of the guys hate my guts, so I think there are a few who’d be open to going to a bar and getting a few drinks and talking. I don’t know exactly what I’ll tell them, but I know it can’t be the truth. At least not yet.

The
truth
.

Fuck.

I still can’t believe I told Grace. I mean, she kind of guessed it so it doesn’t really count, but … Who the fuck am I kidding? I should’ve never involved her in this. When she guessed right, I should’ve lied or done something. Anything but let her in on the truth, because if Matthews finds out she knows I don’t know what he might do and I swear to God if the fucker hurts her I’ll make all of Grace’s axe murderer worries come true and kill the asshole. 

I slam my locker closed and grab my bag, lumbering out of the arena. I’m exhausted. I’ve been pushing myself too hard, but I’ve had to do something to distract my mind. Being around Grace helps, but she has classes and even more studying than normal with her finals coming up.

I should head back to my room and get some rest, but my feet have a mind of their own and lead me right to Grace’s door. It’s getting late, after ten, and I debate for about thirty seconds on whether or not I should knock on the door before I finally do. 

I knock lightly, just in case she or Elle has fallen asleep studying, but loud enough that someone awake should hear. 

I hear footsteps treading lightly across the floor and then the door eases open a crack. “Bennett?” Grace pokes her head out. “It’s late. Are you okay?” She’s probably having flashbacks to the night I showed up flustered and begged her to go to Boston with me.

“I’m okay,” I assure her. “I just wanted to see you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth I want to take them back, but Grace just nods and doesn’t seem to read into them. I shouldn’t want to see her, though. This
thing
between us is supposed to be a business deal more or less an agreement between two parties who have no interest in each other. But that lie is getting harder and harder to tell myself. No interest in Grace? I’d have to be a blind fucking monk to not be interested in Grace. She’s fucking gorgeous. And sweet. And her smile … Oh, fuck, her smile is the best.

“I was just about to go to bed,” she tells me, not opening the door up any wider. 

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Where the ever-loving fuck did that come from? Stay
here?
For the night? Together? I have completely lost my mind. But it’s too late to take it back now.

She looks back into her room and then at me, biting on her plump bottom lip. It kills me when she does that. It’s an innocent gesture, one she does when she’s nervous or uncomfortable, but there’s something infinitely sexy about it. 

“I …” She pauses and I’m about two seconds away from leaving when she finishes. “Okay.”

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. “Seriously?”

She shrugs. “We’re just going to sleep, so I don’t think it’s a big deal.” She opens the door wider to let me in.

“Where’s Elle?” I ask, noting the empty bed.

Grace sighs. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m betting with Ryland.”

I nod. “I’m not surprised.”

“Me either.” She sits back down at her desk at her open laptop. “I have to work on this paper some more. It’ll probably be an hour before I can even think about sleep.” She sighs and glares at the screen. I kick off my shoes and drop my bag on the floor before flopping on her bed. She laughs. “I’d tell you to make yourself at home but you already have.”

I cross my arms behind my head and smirk. “I thought you letting me stay was invitation enough.” I wiggle around.

She shakes her head. “Don’t distract me, this is important.”

“You do realize that fuels me
to
distract you.”

She narrows her green eyes on me. “Go get me a cupcake then, Bennett.”

“Why?”

“Because that means you’ll be gone long enough for me to almost finish this
and
I’ll have a sweet when I’m done. It’s a win-win.”

“Yeah, a win-win where
I
don’t win,” I counter. I stand, though, and put my shoes back on. “I’ll get you a cupcake, because I’m the best fake boyfriend ever.” I bend down and kiss her temple. Her breath catches and she looks at me with surprised eyes. I quickly step away and open her door. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums, turning her gaze back to her computer but I don’t miss the flush in her cheeks.

I ease the door closed behind me and head down the hall to the elevator.

“Hey, Bennett,” a pretty blond says when I stop beside her to wait for the elevator doors to open.

“Hi,” I say, giving her a quick-once over and then training my eyes back on the elevator doors.

Guys with girlfriends don’t check out other girls—even when your fake dating. Pretty sure it’s a law or something.

“I’m Beth,” she says.

“Okay.” I know I sound cold and I don’t mean to, but if she’s expecting me to flirt it’s not going to happen.

The doors open and we step onto the elevator together. 

“What are you doing in the girls’ dorm?” she asks, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder so that I can get a better shot of her cleavage. I force myself not to look, but it’s really fucking hard when there’s a pair of tits right beside you. I mean, I’m a guy, we like to look. It’s a fact of life.

“Visiting Grace,” I bite out between my teeth.

She lets out a musical laugh. “And leaving so early?”

I know what she’s implying but I don’t bite. The doors open and I step out into the hallway. “See you later, Barb.”

“It’s Beth!” she calls after me.

I disappear outside, and Beth, thankfully, doesn’t follow.

I head across campus to get Grace’s cupcake. I choose the chocolate one with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. My girl likes chocolate.

Holy fucking shit. Did I just address Grace as
my girl?
What the fuck has gotten into me? She’s not my girl. She never will be. I don’t want her to be.

I stop in my tracks in the middle of campus. I don’t know why I keep lying to myself. I do want Grace. For the first time in my life I actually
want
a girlfriend, but the timing … The timing fucking sucks. With everything going on with my team and coach I can’t afford any distractions and Grace would be a distraction. 

I breathe out and watch my breath fog the air. 

I’ve never felt so conflicted and at a loss as to what to do. 

I know I can’t tell Grace how I feel, though. She’s as affected by me as I am by her and I don’t want to give her false hope that something more will ever come of this. I can’t promise her a real relationship. Not while my career is on the line.

I walk around campus for a while, just thinking, before I finally make my way back to her dorm. I don’t bother knocking and let myself in.

Grace jumps and nearly falls out of her chair. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” I say, closing the door and locking it. “Did you finish yet?”

“I think five more minutes will do it.” she sighs, and I notice how tired her eyes are. 

I hold up the clear plastic in my hands. “Well, I brought cupcakes.”

“My hero.” She claps her hands together and pretends to swoon.

“Are you mocking me, woman?” I set the cupcakes on the end of her desk and rid myself of my shoes again. I really hate wearing shoes. 

She laughs. “No. Maybe a little.”

I shake my head. “I buy you cupcakes and you mock me. I see how it goes.”

She smiles and holds up her hand, wiggling her fingers. “Five more minutes.” She turns back to her computer and I remove my shirt and start on my pants. Grace squeaks, “What are you doing?”

I pause with my belt undone. “Getting ready for bed.”

“By taking your clothes off?” Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. 

I suppress a grin. “Princess, I’m not sleeping in my pants and you’ve already seen me naked so there’s nothing to be afraid of.”