Breakaway

by Sophia Henry

  “Yes. I am. I want to stay. The city is okay, but I love my job and my colleagues and…” I pause. “Luke.”

  “Who’s Luke?”

  “The guy I’ve been seeing here. I know Mom and Dad told you after my last call with them. Even Aunt Bonnie called to grill me about him.”

  I feel the stupid, silly smile creep onto my face. Last time my parents called, they both got on the phone with me at the same time. Dad had asked how things were going with Luke. While I didn’t tell them I was in love, I did say that things were getting serious. Saying the L-word out loud makes me feel like an idiot. When I first met Luke, I didn’t even want anything more than a fling.

  How the hell did I let myself fall in love in less than six months?

  Luke makes me feel more alive than I ever have. He appreciates my strength, yet understands my shortcomings. And I can’t deny that he’s got me feeling some kind of way every time I’m with him. It sounds so ridiculous, because while I’ve always liked having sex, I’ve never craved being with someone before. I’ve never wanted to spend every moment with someone.

  I can barely remember what life was like before I met him and I can’t imagine what I’d do without him. I love California, but there’s nothing keeping me there. I don’t necessarily love Charlotte, but I feel like I can be myself here. And the thought of leaving Luke fills me with dread.

  Mason’s eyes widen as he stares at me. “The hockey player?”

  Though I want to shout it from the rooftops, the rap on the door stops me from doing anything other than nodding.

  Chapter 23

  Luke

  Bree swings the door wide open after the first knock. She greets me with a smile, wearing a black tank top, tight yoga pants in the same color, and her hair pulled into a sloppy knot on top of her head. The only time she looks sexier is when she’s got her leg swung over my hip, cuddling up to me in bed, sweaty and completely naked.

  Without hesitation, I take a step forward, wrap my arms around her waist, and press my mouth to hers. She responds by lacing her fingers into my hair. I know she loves my hair, which makes me never want to get it cut.

  Our lips are still locked when I begin walking her backward into her apartment. Her body stiffens and I remove my mouth from hers in confusion. Over her shoulder, I see a familiar face in her living room, though I can’t quite place where I know the guy from. He’s holding a phone up to his ear and staring at us. Maybe he’s her neighbor?

  “Who is that?” I ask, releasing her and taking a step back out the door. My mood plummets and I’m a few seconds from freaking out. A nanosecond actually. We’ve never had a conversation about exclusivity. I didn’t think we had to since we seemed to be on the same page about seeing only each other the last few weeks.

  “That’s Mason, my brother. He flew in for a surprise visit,” Bree explains with a twisted smile.

  Her brother? That dude can’t be her fucking brother. The reason he seems so familiar hits me like a bolt of lightning. He looks just like the guy who got carried off the ice in a stretcher after I nailed him at center ice during a game in Juniors.

  In Spokane.

  Which is the team Bree said her brother played for when he was in the WHL.

  No. No. No. No. No! This cannot be happening.

  Mason lifts the phone off his ear, nods slightly, and says, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I respond. My heart hammers in my ear.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How the fuck is this my life? What did I do to make the universe hate me so much?

  “Come on in.” Bree moves aside, giving me room to enter.

  Honesty. Honesty. Honesty.

  “I can’t,” I lie. “That’s what I came over for. I wanted to tell you that I have, uh, a last-minute trip up north. One of our guys is having some trouble. I’ve gotta go straighten things out.”

  The words flow smoothly, though I have no clue what I’m talking about. I’m making it up off the top of my head as I go. There are no problems. I don’t have a trip scheduled. I just have to stay away from Bree while her brother is in town.

  “Aw. That sucks. I really wanted you and Mason to hang out and talk.” Bree looks at her brother, but he’s still on the phone. She’s frowning when she turns back to me.

  “Maybe we still can. When does he leave?” I ask, watching as Mason looks at me, then disappears into the spare bedroom.

  “Saturday morning.”

  “Shit. I’m back on Sunday afternoon.” The lies keep coming and I feel bad, but I’m not ready to have this confrontation right now. I don’t even know if the kid recognizes me or not, but if we start shooting the shit about hockey, it’s going to jog his memory. “I wanted to tell you in person so I could give you a hug and kiss and…” I trail off because I don’t want to say what else I wanted to do while her brother is still in the apartment. That’s tacky as shit.

  “When do you have to leave?” she asks. Her eyelids drop and her lips lose the curve of her smile. I feel like shit for being such a fucking coward and lying to her face. The last thing I ever thought I would do was lie to this angel.

  “I’m on my way to the airport now. Flying in tonight so I can catch up with him after the game.”

  Bree nods, then moves closer to hug me. I return the embrace, and hope like hell she’ll forgive me when I have the guts to come clean.

  “See you on Sunday?” she asks when she pulls away. There’s a sparkle of hope in her beautiful eyes.

  “Absolutely.” I bend down and kiss her. “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming to town?”

  “I didn’t know. I mean, my dad mentioned it a few weeks ago, but I said no. They sent him anyway.” Bree sighs and glances back, but Mason is still in the other room.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugs. “It’s been all right. We’ve had some good discussions about life.”

  I want to ask her what she means and make sure everything is okay, but I backed myself into a lie and now I have to keep up the charade. I glance at my watch. “I gotta go, babe.”

  I know I have to tell her the truth, and I will, after her brother leaves. I hate being dishonest. I feel like my mother, when she gave me excuses to try to convince me that she wasn’t leaving the house to find her next high.

  Bree grabs my arms to brace herself and stand on her toes to kiss me again. “Have a safe trip.”

  I nod and walk backward to the elevators until she closes the door.

  It’s at that particular moment that I realize that Bree and I can never be together. The perfect conditions for a brutal storm are all coming together at once. It’s my fault that her brother’s career is over. It’s my fault that her parents have made her life miserable over the last few years. It’s my fault that I fell in love with a girl who is so far out of my league that I can’t even pretend we could ever have a normal life together.

  It’s not my fault that my dad died suddenly and screwed up a fairly normal middle-class life. It’s not my fault that I grew up a poor kid in a shitty neighborhood because my mom turned to drugs instead of giving a fuck about me. But I have to deal with the complications and ramifications from it all the same.

  I don’t deserve her. I can’t afford her. I can’t keep lying to her.

  Once I’m outside, I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk home. Guess I’m booking a road trip.

  Chapter 24

  Bree

  “That was your boyfriend?” Mason asks, entering the living room and throwing his phone onto the couch.

  “Yeah,” I say. I’m bummed that Luke has a trip tonight. I could use his strength right now.

  “Do you even know who he is, Bree?” Mason glares at me. “Has he admitted what he did yet?”

  “What does that mean?” My stomach flips and spins as I wonder what Luke could possibly have done. And how would Mason know about it?

  “Your boyfriend is the cocksucker who took me out of the game.”

  Mason’s language should offend me, but I’m used to i
t from him. He’s never been one to keep the locker-room talk in the locker room.

  “What?”

  “He’s the one who hit me, Bree. Did you know that?”

  “How would I know that?” I pause, confused because he’s never named the guy who hit him before. He’s never even cared. “How do you know that?”

  “I recognize his face, Bree. It’s ingrained in my memory. That guy is the one who hit me in that last game I played.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.” I shake my head in disbelief. My brother is such an asshole.

  “Yeah, I am. I know his face so well I could pick it out of a criminal lineup.” Mason raises his voice. “His hit ruined my career.”

  I’m shocked at how the hell Mason could jump to such a ridiculous conclusion. I think he’s full of shit, but even if it was Luke that delivered that final hit, I don’t know why he’s bringing this up, since we both know it wasn’t that one hit that took him out. It was multiple thrashings that brought on a series of concussions. The final hit wasn’t the sole episode that ended his career.

  “There had to be a last hit, Mason, or you’d still be playing. You’ve said time and time again that it wasn’t a dirty hit. What’s with trying to pin the blame now?”

  “You don’t get it, Bree.” Mason bats a coffee mug from the counter with a swift, hard slap. It crashes against the stainless-steel sink and cracks into three large pieces.

  “I don’t, Mason! I don’t get it. I never have. I mean, at first I understood how horrible it was when you were told you’d never play again, but after all this time I don’t understand why you can’t just get over it. Why are you accusing Luke of being the one who took you out when you’ve never even cared about who it was before?”

  “Because he had the career I wanted, Bree!” Mason yells.

  I grab the countertop with both hands and take a deep breath. He’s not pissed because he finally has someone to blame—it’s because he’s jealous. “He didn’t have the career you wanted, Mason. He got hurt and had to leave the game just like you did.”

  “He went further. He got drafted. He signed a huge contract. He actually got to play in the NHL.”

  “So did thousands of other hockey players. And countless other guys didn’t even make it to the level you played in. Jesus, Mason, you need help. If that is what this is all about you need a psychiatrist—there’s always going to be someone better than you, who makes more than you, and so on. That’s life, get over it.”

  I don’t have the patience to sympathize with him anymore. Not after seeing how well Luke has handled his injury and subsequent departure from the game. And especially not after this outburst of pure jealousy.

  “For such a good nurse, you sure are a heartless bitch, Bree,” Mason mutters before stalking back into the guest room and slamming the door.

  His words sting, but I can’t find it in my heart to apologize. At some point he has to end his pity party and get on with this life.

  I finally figured out the difference between Luke and Mason. Luke didn’t have a cushy life growing up. He didn’t have parents who gave him everything he desired. He worked his ass off for everything he has.

  Mason is drowning in his own privilege. Sure, he worked his ass off to become a talented hockey player, too, but once he left the game, he had no drive to pursue anything else. And there was no pressure to. He knew he could go back home and live off of our parents. We grew up in an environment where we didn’t have to worry.

  Luke, on the other hand, knew that when his playing career ended he’d have nothing. I’m sure he mourned the loss of hockey, but he didn’t have time to mope. He had to pick his life up and get another job. He’s always had to have tenacity and drive, an internal hunger to keep going and make something of himself. He had no other choice.

  I’m not saying everyone who grew up wealthy or privileged has no drive. But the difference in background speaks volumes about character in this particular case, where the two men’s stories seem so similar, but led to such different results.

  The fractured mug in the sink catches my eye. I pick up each piece carefully and carry them to the trash can. “Luke. Mason. Me,” I say as I drop each piece in. Two of the most important men in my life were broken by the loss of their hockey careers. I know Mason wants to blame Luke for all of his problems, but instead of Luke being the cause, maybe he could be the person who brings us back together.

  Chapter 25

  Luke

  I tried to book a last-minute trip to Canada to meet up with the guys we have in London and Guelph who will be playing in the NHL Prospect Tournament in September, but I couldn’t make it work with their game schedules, so I ended up not booking anything at all.

  I didn’t tell Bree that, though. I sent her a text saying I’m in London, Ontario, meeting up with our prospects. I’ve never felt like such a complete and total dickbag. Since when did lying become the way I handled myself? The longer I hide out, the more I feel like my Mom. Lying about having a job. Lying about using. Lying to make it seem like she really wanted to see me when all she wanted was more money.

  “How’s it going there?” Bree asks.

  After leaving her apartment the other day, I went straight to an ABC store, the state-mandated liquor stores in North Carolina, and bought a shit-ton of vodka—so much that the cashier asked if I was getting married. At first, I didn’t understand, but then realized he must have thought I was buying for a reception. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was all for me.

  I’m four bottles down when I finally have the nerve to talk to her. I’ve been drunk for three days straight.

  “Good. Good. I’m excited about Tag Stinson, this kid from Guelph. I think he’s gonna be a star. Reminds me of me when I was his age.”

  “Talented with a heart of gold. I like him already.”

  I ignore her compliment, because it doesn’t describe me anymore. “How are things going there?”

  “I really miss you, Luke. Being with you gives me confidence and strength, like I can handle anything. My brother is being an immature idiot.”

  “Why? What’s he doing?”

  Bree’s exhaustion comes through in her sigh. “He has this stupid idea that you’re the one who took him out of the game. That you’re the one who hit him.” Bree groans. “He’s being absolutely ridiculous. Before you showed up at my house, we had a fight about what’s he’s doing with his life. Now he’s acting like a spoiled brat, lashing out, grasping at stupid straws, because he’s jealous that I’m happy.”

  I bang the back of my head against the chair. Her words sink into my skin, seep into my veins. I’m the biggest fucking coward for not telling her the truth, especially when we don’t have much more time left together. I should man up and tell her that Mason is right, but I can’t.

  I feel like a fucking maggot—or whatever the lowest form of life is. I could walk over right now, fess up, and help Bree through this. Talking to Mason might suck at first, but I know he’d understand. Or I hope he would.

  But, no. I’m a selfish dick, sitting in my condo, three blocks away from her, downing vodka like it’s water. Just because I knew it would make me forget what a fucking idiot I am. Each swallow promises to make the guilt go away. Well, the guilt from being the one who took Mason out of the game. Not the guilt of lying to the only woman I’ve ever really cared about.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I—” I begin to say.

  But Bree continues speaking. “I wish he had the strength to move on like you did. If he were excited about something, it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Maybe I can help find him a job with a team,” I say quickly.

  “You can?”

  The lilt in her voice tells me everything I need to know. I’ve offered what she’s been hoping I would, but never wanted to come out and ask me.

  How could she not realize that I adore the ground she walks on? I’d throw myself in front of a fucking bus for her. I’d give her anything I possibly could. If Bree Co
llins asked for one of my kidneys, I’d cut it out myself with a fucking butter knife and hand it to her on a silver platter.

  I don’t even deserve to look at her—let alone date her. I don’t deserve her affection or concern. I don’t deserve to be with a girl who has so much life and love in her heart.

  Bree deserves someone better—stronger—than me. As much as I want to have her in my life, I can’t. I can’t ask her to stay in Charlotte. I can’t even ask her to try a long-distance relationship.

  Bree deserves a knight in shining armor, not a lowlife from Downtown Eastside Vancouver, disguised in expensive clothes, who will always be teetering on the edge of sobriety, destined to follow in his addict mother’s footsteps.

  “Let me talk to some people,” I answer. “We’ll get him back on track.”

  “Thank you, Luke,” she says. Her slight pause tells me there are tears shimmering in those big, beautiful, blue eyes. “I never would have asked you for help, but I really appreciate you offering.”

  “You can always ask me for anything, Bree. Nothing makes me happier than making you smile.” My words aren’t hollow. It’s complete and raw honesty coming out. “You’re the most amazing, selfless person I’ve ever met.”

  “Luke Daniels, have you been drinking?” she teases me.

  I run my fingers along the bottle. “Nope. I just don’t think you hear that enough.”

  There’s silence on Bree’s end. “You are an amazing person, Luke. And one of the strongest men I’ve ever known.”

  It takes all the will I have not to laugh out loud. My strength has always been forged. Fake it until you make it.

  For a moment, I wonder if she knows. That my trip is a complete fucking fraud. That I’ve never been as drunk as I am right now. That without the alcohol in my system, I’m not strong enough to suppress the memories of Mason’s past or my own.