The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

Bennett winces. “Yeah, I did,” he admits.

“What did he do?”

Bennett shakes his head. “The less you know the better.”

“Did he kill someone?”

Bennett snorts. “Princess, I’m really beginning to worry about your obsession with killing, but no, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” I plead. “You can tell me. It’s not like I’m going to spill the beans to someone.”

Bennett sighs and begins taking off his clothes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did it have to do with steroids?” I ask.

He freezes in the process of taking the sweater off so I can’t see his face. He lowers his arms again and the shirt falls. “What makes you say that?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” I grin. “That’s why he made that drug test look like you were doing steroids.”

Bennett’s lips pinch and he pulls out his desk chair, taking a seat. He claps his hands together and looks at me seriously. “You can’t tell anyone, Grace. I mean it.”

“Yes!” I do a little dance. “I was right!”

“Stop it,” Bennett scolds but his tone is light.

I cease my dance and mime zipping my lips. I sit on the edge of his bed and lean toward him. “So,” I begin, “you saw your coach doing steroids? Big deal—he’s the coach, not a player, so I don’t see where that’s an issue.”

Bennett shakes his head and lays his hands on his knees, spreading out his long fingers. “No, Grace, I saw the coach giving a player steroids—not just any player, our Captain.”

I gape at him. “That is a big deal.”

“Exactly.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and leans back in the chair so far that I’m afraid it’s going to topple over. He moves forward and the legs come crashing back down against the linoleum floor. “I got injured shortly after that so I couldn’t play and he wasn’t worried about me. Then, I think he hoped I wouldn’t get well enough to play again, now that I’ve proven him wrong, he’s stuck grasping at any fucking straws he can get his hands on to keep me off the team.”

“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.