The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

“Is false, just like the steroids.”

I shake my head. “Yeah, I thought he was telling the truth about the steroids too, but now I think that was just a lie. I think his coach has been innocent in this whole thing and Bennett’s blaming his screw-ups on the poor man.”

Sabrina shakes her head. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” I say, but my voice wobbles.

“Bennett is a lot of things,” Sabrina says solemnly, “and I know he doesn’t have the best track record, but he’s a good guy and he loves you. He’s heartbroken about this, and let me tell you: I’ve never seen my brother torn up over a woman the way he is with you.”

“He hasn’t come to see me,” I admit softly.

“Would you have spoken to him if he had?” she counters with a raised brow.

“Well, no,” I admit.

“Exactly.” She gives me a small smile. “You can believe what you want, Grace, but trust me when I say he’s doing everything he can to prove his innocence.” She stands and opens the door, but pauses before leaving. She levels a look at me over her shoulder. “I just hope by the time he does it isn’t too late to fix things.”

I feel like I’m on America’s Most Wanted and everyone in the whole fucking United States is hunting me down. I haven’t left my apartment in six days and the paparazzi are still camped outside my house. The fucking vultures. I’m tempted to throw water balloons on them but I’m pretty sure that would make everyone hate me even more. My social media accounts have been going off non-stop with notifications, most of them from people calling me names. They’re favorite name seems to be pig.

I’m honestly amazed by how many people will rally together to tear someone apart but so few build each other up.

People love drama, even if they say they don’t.

I tap my fingers against the kitchen counter.

A plan. I need a plan.

My life has imploded before my eyes and I’m not going to sit idly by while the last remnants of it fly away.

A key in the door rattles, and a moment later, Sabrina steps into my apartment.

“Hey,” I greet her with a half-hearted wave.

She closes and locks the door behind her and holds out a to-go bag from my favorite Chinese restaurant.

“Eat, you’re losing too much weight,” she scolds.

“It’s not my fault I can’t leave my apartment to get groceries.”

She rolls her eyes. “Then use your computer and order them, Bennie.”

“You can do that?” I ask, setting the bag down on the counter and pulling out the boxes.

She sets her purse down and pulls out one of the barstools. “Yes, of course. God, you’re such a guy.”

I grin and open one of the boxes. “Mmm, my favorite. You’re the best, Bina.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she chimes. “You owe me, yada-yada-yada.”

I chuckle and dump the serving of chicken on a plate, add noodles, and an egg roll.

Enlisting my journalist sister to help me is probably the best decision I’ve ever made. If there’s a loose end she’ll sniff it out. My parents want to help in any way they can but there’s nothing for them to do. They want to be here with me in the city too, but I insisted on them staying home. The media would hound them to death here, and after my dad’s stroke he doesn’t need that kind of stress. I don’t worry about Sabrina. She can hold her own against the vultures.

“Have you found out anything?” I ask, taking a large bite of egg roll.

“Not yet,” she admits with a defeated sigh. “Give me time.”

“Time,” I repeat. “I don’t have much left of it.”