The Game That Breaks Us

by Micalea Smeltzer

  I finally wrench myself from his arms and shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I say, not meeting his eyes. “I can’t do this. I have to go.”

  I push my way through the crowd and back to the bar, where I order another drink. I down it as fast as I did the others and then go in search of Ryland and Elle.

  I find them on the dance floor and I yell above the noise. “I’m leaving. I’ll call a cab. You guys keep having fun.”

  “What?” Elle’s face falls. “No, you can’t go. Tonight is all about you.”

  Tears sting my eyes. “I can’t,” my voice cracks. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”

  “Grace,” she says softly, almost worriedly, and reaches for my arm.

  I move out of the way and leave before she can stop me.

  My cab arrives quickly and I’m relieved to get out of there.

  I stare at my reflection in the glass window and I wish I could un-see the tears on my cheeks, but they’re there, the physical presence of the scar on my heart.

  “Hey, Michael.” I greet the player with a handshake. I’m shocked he wanted to come all the way to Boston to see me. I figured all the college players were laughing it up that I’d finally completely fucked myself over this time.

  “Hey,” he says with an easy smile. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.” I close the door behind him. “I was surprised to hear from you,” I admit. “Do you want anything to drink?” I point my thumb over my shoulder to the refrigerator.

  “Nah.” He shakes his head and sits on the couch. “I wanted to see you.”

  “Why?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

  He shrugs. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think you did this.”

  I breathe out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. It feels so fucking good to hear someone that’s not family say they believe me.

  “I didn’t,” I tell him, in case he needs to hear the words straight from me. “I’ve fucked a lot of women, I won’t deny that, but I never touched her.”

  He nods like that’s enough for him. “Coach doesn’t think you did it, either. He yells at anyone that says anything bad about you.” I smile at that. “He sent me to help you.”

  I snort. “Help me? I don’t think anyone can do anything to help me.” At this point the only person that can help me is myself and my sister—and we’re working on it, day by day. I just wish it wasn’t taking so fucking long.

  Michael shrugs and raises his hands innocently. “Hey, I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “Has Coach talked to Matthews?” I ask.

  Michael shakes his head. “Don’t think so. If he did, I think he’d try to kill the bastard.” Michael clears his throat and sobers. “I know you’re getting a lot of hate right now.” Understatement of the century, considering I can’t leave my house without having things thrown at me and being called names. “But there are still people out there that believe in you.”

  I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “Bennett …” Sabrina says softly, appearing from the guestroom. She’s been staying here and working from her laptop, while also helping me in any way she can. She’s a fucking saint and the best sister anyone could ask for. “Have you seen this?”

  My brows furrow together. “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind.” She starts to disappear back down the hall but I know something is up. Matthews has probably come out saying his daughter’s pregnant now with my demon offspring and it’s going to eat its way out of her vagina and kill her—anything to make people feel sorrier for him.

  I jump up and hop over the back of her couch, stealing her phone from her hand.

  “Hey,” she protests weakly, trying to grab it.

  It’s too late, though. I’ve already seen and it’s like someone stabbed a knife in my heart and twisted it. It’s picture of Grace at some club and she’s dancing with that douchebag Tanner.

  I think I’ve finally found someone I hate more than Coach Matthews.

  I lift the phone, ready slam it in the wall but Sabrina grabs it from my hand. “Don’t even think about it,” she warns. “That’s my phone.” She holds tightly to the phone in case there’s any chance of me swiping it and breaking it out of spite. “There’s more,” she says even softer than before.

  “What?” I bite out, thinking she’s going to give me more bad news about Grace. My thoughts are running rampant, imagining her fucking Tanner in a closet in the club.

  “Greg Paulson agreed to meet with us.” All the air whooshes out of my lungs. Greg Paulson, the team captain for the Hunters, and the player I caught Matthews giving steroids to. If he has a bone to pick with Matthews the way I do then maybe, just maybe, we can take the asshat down once and for all.

  “When?” I ask, daring to hope for the first time in over a month.

  “Tomorrow.”

  I breathe out. Soon. This could all be over in the next week.

  Sabrina heads back to her room, probably to do research, and Michael whistles.

  “Damn, who was that? She’s hot.”

  I stride over to the couch and smack the back of his head. “My sister.”

  “Fuck,” he says.

  “Yeah, fuck,” I agree. Sitting down beside him. “I have another guestroom. You wanna stay?” I ask him. “You can go with Bina and me to talk to Paulson.”

  He grins. “Sure. I’m in. Just let me know what you need me to do.” He glances down the hall and I narrow my eyes on him.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I warn.

  He chuckles. “Sorry. She’s hot.”

  “Don’t make me regret letting you help,” I warn him.

  He chuckles. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  I don’t believe him, not for one second, but I can’t bring myself to be bothered because he cares enough about me to be here. I’ve never really had friends before, but maybe now I do.

  It’s been three days since the club and I can’t get the sticky feeling of Tanner’s hands off my body. It doesn’t help that there’s a photo floating around of us dancing. A photo that makes it look like I was enjoying it. Ugh. The media really knows how to skew things to make them look different than they really are.

  I sit in front of my computer, trying to work on my paper. Trying being the keyword there. I can’t seem to bring myself to care, which is bad. The last thing I need is my grades to slip because of my personal life. My parents would give me no choice on staying then and haul my ass back home.

  Elle comes busting into the dorm, out of breath and red-faced.

  “What happened to you?” I ask, checking her over to make sure she’s not hurt.

  “You have to see this.” She shoves her phone at me and I take it. “Play the video,” she orders and bends to clutch her knees, trying to get enough air.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her.

  “Fine.” She waves a dismissive hand. “I just ran all the way across campus to show that to you and I’m now reminded that I’m extremely out of shape.” She clutches at a stitch in her side.

  “You realize you could’ve texted me, right?”

  Her mouth falls open. “Oh. I forgot. Just play the damn video.”

  I shake my head, still watching her out of the corner of my eye since I’m afraid she’s about to collapse, and then press play.

  Bennett and another player come onto the screen and sit behind a table. It looks like they’re holding some sort of press conference.

  I hold my breath and wait for them to speak.

  The other player speaks first.

  “I’m sure you’re all shocked to see the two of us together, but we decided it was time for the truth to come out. The truth about Coach Matthews. You all see him as a legend and an amazing coach, but that’s not who he really is. He’s a liar and a cheater. As his star player, he forced me to use steroids to be even better. You’re probably wondering how exactly he forced me—let’s just say blackmail was involved and it involved my daughter. This man thr
eatened my two-year-old daughter and I felt I had no choice but to do it. Coach Matthews is a well-respected man, and he knew how to cover his tracks, so no one would’ve believed me if I told.” He pauses and takes a drink of water from the bottle on the table. “Until this guy accidently walked in on Matthews giving me the steroids. He didn’t know what he’d walked in on, what exactly was happening, but Coach Matthews began messing with him too. You’re probably thinking about his injury, but that was entirely an accident. But the steroid and rape allegations are all from Coach Matthews himself. He’s trying to get rid of Bennett—keep him from ever playing hockey again—to save his own ass. I’m appealing to all players out there, if you’ve ever played for Coach Matthews and he’s blackmailed you too, come forward. You’re not alone. The man’s a monster, and monsters need to be put down.” He nods to Bennett for him to speak.

  Bennett clears his throat. “I know I don’t have the best track record and haven’t always done the best thing, but I met someone who made me want to be better. For her and for me. In the last six weeks, I’ve watched my life spiral out of control and there was nothing I could do. No one believed me. It was my word against Matthews and his daughter’s, and who’s going to believe the guy that used to fuck everyone?” He shrugs sadly. “I understand why no one believed me, I really do, but innocent until proven guilty is nothing but a lie. I’ve been made to feel like the dirtiest of scum for something I didn’t do.” He takes a deep breath and spreads his fingers out on the table. I feel tears prick my eyes. My Bennett. “I don’t hate anyone for treating me the way they did. Rapists should get more shit than they do, but I’m not one of them. To Matthews’ daughter, I want to say I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry your father used you in a vendetta against me. That’s not something a father should ever do.” He licks his lips nervously. “I don’t know where things will go from here. Whether anyone will believe us, but everything we’ve told you is the truth. Look into Matthews. He’s dirty, and I’m sure you’ll find proof of something he’s done because I guarantee you this is the least of it.” He flicks a finger between him and the other guy. “All I’ve ever wanted to do is play hockey and I hope that dream isn’t crushed.”

  The video ends and a sob wracks through my body.

  I read the attached article and see that in the hours following the press conference, a journalist came forward with enough information to condemn Coach Matthews for multiple counts including slander, blackmail, distributing drugs to athletes, and even money laundering. Even though it doesn’t say who the journalist was, my gut says it was Sabrina. She’d do anything for her brother and I’m sure she’s been pouring all her time and energy into clearing his name. She’s a better person than I am. I just abandoned him.

  “I can’t believe I ever thought he did it. Even for one second.” I rub away the tears sticking to my face.

  Elle comes and puts her arms around me. “Hey, with the information we were given, it was impossible not to believe it.”

  I shake my head and choke on a sob. “But I know him and he’s a good person. I should’ve known he wouldn’t do it.” I hiccup. “I feel horrible. I should’ve defended him. Done something—like hire a PI to look into his coach. I just sat back and believed what was in front of me and deluded myself into believing everything he told me was a lie.” I groan into my hands, incredibly frustrated with myself. “He probably hates me,” I mumble. “And I can’t even blame him.”

  Elle gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

  “If he doesn’t, then he’s a better person than I am, because I would hate me.” I breathe out, trying to calm the shakiness in my body. I feel untethered to the world around me, like I’m a balloon on a string about to blow away.

  “What are you going to do?” Elle asks. “Are you going to go to him?”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I want to, but what if he doesn’t want to see me?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please, for the love of God, don’t be one of those girls who sits back and doesn’t go after what she wants because she’s afraid of rejection. Just do the damn thing.”

  I don’t know how I can laugh with how shitty I feel, but I do. “I have to make this good, though. He’s been through hell and he deserves an epic apology.”

  She grins wickedly. “Damn straight he does.

  Watching Matthews get carted away in handcuffs might be one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen. He yelled obscenities at everyone and even spit on one officer. I’m pretty sure I saw that officer give him a right good shove in the gut when he was getting in the car.

  This feels like the best kind of retribution since only weeks before, I was being arrested for a crime I didn’t commit.

  Now, I change into my gear, about to play my first game of the season. I should’ve been here long ago, but I’m not going to dwell on the past. All that matters is that I’m here now, with a new coach and a team that is now banded together in a way we never were before.

  Three more current players came forward after Paulson and I spoke out. Five others that played for Matthews previously also came out with grievances against him.

  I wish now I would’ve done something sooner—believed in myself—but I can’t undo the past and the only thing I can do is learn from it.

  My sister … Fuck. I owe her everything. She dug and dug and dug until she got enough proof that there’d be no doubt that Paulson and I were telling the truth once we went public. She gave Matthews no way to slander us further. I owe her everything.

  Paulson claps his hand down on my shoulder pads. “You ready, James? This is your big day.”

  My chance to redeem myself.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I’m ready.”

  I’ve learned that Greg Paulson is a decent fucking guy. Fuck, a lot of the players I never got along with before are great now. I’m learning that Matthews hatred had seeped down into all of us. A team is meant to be a family and we weren’t. I think we’re getting there now, though. It’s just going to take more time. Something I have plenty of now that I’m not worried about losing my contract. As long as I play well until the end of the season I know I’ll get a renewed contract and I have no doubts that I’m going to kick some ass. It’s been too long.

  Our new coach—Coach Thompson—stands on a chair and yells above the chaos to be heard. When the room quiets he finally speaks.

  “I don’t have much to say, but what I do have to say is important so listen up. This is our first game together, let’s make each other proud.” He claps his hands together and jumps from the chair.

  Paulson stands beside me and nudges my shoulder with his and our pads clink together. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

  Even the frigid air from the ice isn’t enough to cool me down. I’m on fire and my body drips with sweat by the second period. My parents, sister, Michael, and Coach Harrison sit front and center in the stands cheering me on. It feels good to know I have a solid support system. But there is one important person missing.

  Grace.

  I’ve picked up my phone a hundred times to call her—not to mention all the times I’ve gotten behind the wheel of my car to go see her—but I don’t know what to say. Things ended so suddenly and awkwardly between us.

  All the practices with Coach Thompson haven’t helped matters, either. He’s been working us hard, wanting to get us into better shape and get used to his coaching style. Suffice it to say, I’ve been exhausted every evening when I’ve gotten home. It’s all been worth it, though, and I know that tomorrow I’ll finally figure out what to say to her. I have the whole day off so going to campus shouldn’t be a big deal. I just want her back. I want her to forgive me. I understand that she might not. Even though the rape allegations were nothing but a lie, it still hurt her and she might have decided I’m not worth that kind of pain.

  Paulson slings the puck into the goal and the buzzer sounds. Another point for us. The period ends and we start down the tunnel.
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br />   I’m sweaty, and tired, but riding the biggest adrenaline high of my life. We’re playing like champions tonight and I think, if we keep this up, that we might make it to the finals. Maybe it’s a long shot, but I’m allowed to hope.

  Our break ends and we’re back out on the ice.

  I get in my position and focus on the opposing player I want to take out and that’s when a fucking Sour Patch Kid lands in front of my skate.

  I stare at it, wondering how the fuck it got there, when another one drops a few feet away.

  “What the hell?” another player mutters.

  My gaze is drawn to the stadium stairs to my right and that’s when I see her.

  “Grace,” I breathe, and her name comes out sounding muffled around my mouth guard.

  I don’t give a fuck that we’re in the middle of a game, I skate over to the bench and climb over the wall. I spit out my mouth-guard and drop my helmet on the floor along with my hockey stick before climbing to the other side to the hall. Grace saw where I was going and stands above me, the black rails keep her away from me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  The whole arena is silent, watching us with surprise and maybe a little fascination.

  She shrugs with a wry smile. “Getting my man back.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Is that what I am? Your man?”

  She rests her arms on the rail and leans over. Her hair tumbles over her shoulder and fuck she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.

  “I mean, only if you want to be. Before you say no, though, I have a list of reasons why you should say yes.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and fight a grin. “Is that so, Princess? What are they?”

  “Number one, I’ll always bring you Sour Patch Kids even if I think they’re the grossest thing ever.” I laugh at this. “Two,” she ticks it off on her finger, “I’ll learn to ice skate and maybe even learn to play hockey.” I press my lips together, staving off my smile. “Three, I’ll always tell you when you’re wrong—which you are, a lot.” I shake my head. “Four, when you start to get to cocky, I’ll bring you back down to Earth.” She winks, and fuck it if my stomach doesn’t do a little flip because dammit that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “And five, I love you and that’s reason enough.”