The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

Thump.

Thump.

The sun began to rise above the tall gothic style buildings that dotted campus. Even I had to admit that Addams University was pretty damn nice. It was a beautiful location and only thirty minutes from where I grew up.

Speaking of, my mom would be wondering where I was. I promised to meet her and my dad for breakfast at a little diner halfway between campus and home. I turned back around and jogged toward the dorms—that was part of the condition Coach had for working with me; I had to stay in a dorm. My apartment in Boston was only two hours away, and I would’ve gladly made the drive every day, but he wouldn’t have it. He said something about, “That shiny apartment of yours will only inflate your already inflated head, Bennett. It’s time to come back down to Earth.”

So here I was, back on campus, living in the fucking dorms.

I’d say it was the fucking Circle of Life, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The dorm is in sight so I slow to a walk. With the sun only beginning to rise, the campus is dead. I’m the only one crazy enough to be up at this time. Once upon a time, I would’ve never even been to bed yet.

I lift my formerly-injured leg onto the stairs and use them to stretch the stiff muscle.

Playing right wing, I was constantly getting hit and doing the hitting. Hockey is a fucking aggressive sport. My injury, though, hadn’t happened on the fucking ice. Oh, no, this idiot fell down a mountain because I was trying to save my fucking beer. I’m never drinking again.

I stand with my hands on my hips, breathing in and out deeply trying to catch my breath.

I like this time of morning.

The peace.

It is one of the only times I ever feel that wholly calm feeling. I know all too soon campus will be packed and soon word would spread that I am here. There will be the ones who revere me and the ones who hate me. I’m not ready for all the attention. The questions. The speculation as to why I am here. The only people who know I am on campus at this moment are the dean, Coach, and Grace—and she obviously doesn’t know who I am. Most of the freshman arriving yesterday haven’t noticed me, either, since they are too busy finding their way around campus. That will all be a different story soon.

I finish stretching and head inside the building.

When I attended school here, I’d had a shared dorm, but this time, Coach had mercy on me and made sure I got a single since I wasn’t actually a student. The room is small, barely enough room to turn around in. It’s definitely nothing like my apartment in Boston. I swing the door open to my room and inhale the stale air. It smells like disinfectant.

My tennis shoes squeak on the linoleum floor and I take a seat on the lumpy mattress. I kick off my shoes and flop back on the bed. I know I need to get in the shower. My mom will be calling if I’m late for our eight o’ clock breakfast, and the last thing I want is to upset her—especially with all the shit I’ve put her through.

I rub my hands over my face. I have to make things better. Not just with my mom, but with everyone. I have to be the person everyone expects me to be.

I have to become respectable and not the laughing stock of the NHL.

Fuck. My. Life.

I grab my clothes from the dresser and smell them—yeah, they’re clean—and head into the small-attached bathroom. It’s so small that it makes my room look like a fucking mansion.

The water in the shower is either scalding or too cold, with no in-between, and I seem to have no way to control it. It’s Russian roulette as to what I’ll get.

I step inside and am pelted with shards of ice.

I shower as quickly as I can and get out, drying off my hair and getting dressed before I catch frostbite.

I check my phone, and sure enough, there’s a missed call from my mom. She worries about me more than she should—scratch that, I’ve given her every reason in the world to worry about me.

I stuff my phone in my pocket. I’ll call her back once I’m in the car. I grab my wallet and check the room to make sure I’m not forgetting anything and spot my gym bag. Yeah, I’ll need that. As soon as I get back to campus, I’m hitting the gym.

I head out of my room, keeping my head low in the off chance that there’s someone in the hall. I doubt anyone is in this building but me. It usually only houses upperclassmen, and they probably won’t arrive until Sunday.

It takes me ten minutes to get from the dorm to the garage where I park my car. My mom’s going to be standing on her head by the time I call her back.