The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

My mom shakes her eyes. “I’m sure Coach Harrison helped sculpt you into the amazing player that you are, but you underestimate your raw talent.”

I slurp at my root beer. “He won’t let me out on the ice,” I grumble.

I need to be out there. To have my skates glide against the ice and feel the hockey stick in my hands as I slap it against the puck.

“He must have a good reason for keeping you off the ice,” my mom reasons.

“He says my leg isn’t ready,” I mumble, looking into the depths of my empty glass like it holds all the answers to the world.

“Then it isn’t ready,” she says.

I sigh. There’s no point in explaining my need to her. People don’t understand even if they have their own obsessions.

Jolene brings out our food, and my stomach comes to life.

I’d forgotten how good the food was here.

I look down at my plateful of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast, and lick my lips.

“You’re so weird,” Bina says, having seen my reaction.

“So are you.” I bump her elbow with mine and she glares.

My mom sighs heavily. “You guys are old enough not to act like children anymore and yet…” she trails off.

I take a bite of sausage and smile through the food. “Get used to it, Mom, you’re going to be stuck with us acting like two big kids for the rest of your life.”

She cuts into her omelet. “Trust me, I’m very aware.”

“So what’s new with you, Bina?” I ask, trying to be nice. It’s rare but it happens

“Work, work, and more work.”

Sabrina works for a newspaper as a reporter. Luckily, she’s not a sports reporter, or I’d be fucked.

“I hope you’re doing your finger work outs.” I flick my fingers through the air.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re such an ass. At least I don’t party for a living.”

I wince. “Touché.”

Her face softens. “I think this will be good for you, though. Working with Coach Harrison again. He’s a nice guy. There’s something off about your new coach.”

I look away. There is something off about my coach. He’s a fucking prick.

Frank West is supposed to be one of the best coaches in the league. He’s been coaching my team, the Plymouth Hunters, for almost ten years, but he’s crooked. A fucking bad guy in my opinion. He wants me off the team and fuck, if I was in a position to be traded, I’d fucking take it just to get away from him, but with my recent media firestorms no one wants me, and the Hunters are stuck with me until my contract is up next season. I have one year. One fucking chance to make this right.

We finish breakfast and I pay; everyone protests that fact, but fuck it. I have the money and I want to treat my family.

Out in the parking lot, I hug Sabrina goodbye, and she leaves, having to get home to finish an article.

“Come by the house soon,” my mom says as she hugs me. “We miss you.”

“I miss you too.” I let her go and hug my dad, holding on a little tighter. I thought we were going to lose him after his stroke and I don’t know what I’d do without him. This man has always been my rock, someone I can admire and look up to. “I love you, Dad.”

He nods against my shoulder. “L-Love y-y-you.” His hands shake against my back.

I clap him on the shoulder and step back so my mom can get him in the car.