The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

Coach shrugs. “I want to believe you, Bennett, but he faxed me over the papers, and I can’t deny the truth in what I see.” He looks at me sadly, like a father that’s been let down.

“Coach,” I plead. “Give me another drug test—I promise you I’m not on anything. You know me.” I pound my fist against my chest. “You know me,” I repeat.

He looks tired … Defeated, almost. I’d expect him to be angry in this situation, but it’s like the fight has gone out of him. “I plan on giving you a drug test,” he says, and opens a drawer. He holds out a white clear cup for me to pee in and I take it. “This way I can be sure you don’t have time to sober up if you’re on anything.” He leans back in his chair. “There’s something else, Bennett.”

What else could there possibly be? “What?” I ask, scared to know.

“Your probation has been changed to a suspension for half of the season.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I roar. I completely lose it then, shoving everything off of Coach’s desk. I scream until the veins in my neck feel ready to burst. “He’s ruining my life!” Melodramatic, maybe, but Coach Matthews has it out for me. He’s a complete asshole—if he can’t own me, make me one of his puppets, he’ll break me. Completely fucking ruin me.

When I can finally regain my wits, I pick up the stupid fucking cup I need to pee in and point at Coach. “Don’t trust anything that man tells you. He’s a fucking slime ball.”

Coach surprises me by saying, “I know.”

I march out of his office and pee in the cup, dropping it off in the sports clinic. They won’t find anything. I’m squeaky clean. But I don’t put it past Coach Matthews to have covered his tracks some way, somehow.

I need to go to Boston.

Tonight.

I knock on Grace’s door.

I’m a jittery mess, and I should be on my way to Boston, but I can’t go alone. I’m scared if I go alone I just might strangle the man.

The door opens a second later and Grace stands there in the shortest pair of shorts I’ve ever seen and a skin-tight top.

“Do you always study dressed like that?” I gawk at her. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s drool in the corner of my mouth.

She looks down. “I like to be comfy. Why are you here?” She looks around the hall like she’s afraid we’ll be spotted together.

“I don’t know,” I sigh, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Some shit happened and I need to go to Boston tonight. Can you come with me?” She looks back into her room and then at me. “Are you not alone?” My tone sounds way too jealous for my liking. Giggles sound in the room and I grin. “Slumber party? Are there going to be pillow fights? Why didn’t you invite me, Princess? I’m hurt.” I pout, clutching my heart.

She sighs. “Celine and Makenna are here studying which has somehow turned into fingernail painting. I’m still really studying, though—so no, I can’t go to Boston tonight. It’s already eight, Bennett, and that’s like a three-hour drive.”

“Please,” I beg her. “I can’t do this alone. Bring your books. You can study on the way. We can stay at my place in the city and come back in the morning. Tomorrow’s Saturday so you can’t argue about missing class,” I remind her.

She bites her lip and I know I’ve worn her down. “Okay,” she says softly. “Give me like fifteen minutes to pack and change and I’ll meet you at your car.”

“No, I’ll wait outside,” I tell her. “I don’t want you walking across campus in the dark by yourself.” I pause, my brows furrowing. “Wait, fifteen minutes? Princess, we’re only going to be gone overnight. You don’t need to pack your whole closet.”

She rolls her eyes. “My books, laptop, and a change of clothes, Bennett. That’s all. Promise.” She promptly closes the door in my face.

I chuckle. “Well then.”

I stuff my hands into the pocket of my sweatshirt and head outside to the steps to wait. If we’re spending the night at my apartment I don’t need to pack anything and I have my gym bag with me so I can at least wash that stuff tonight. I’m sure Grace will shit her pants at the sight of me doing my own laundry. She seems to think I’m incapable of doing most things. I like to think I just might surprise her.

The air is growing cold as we move into October and I love it. It’s my favorite time of the year. I love the change of the leaves and the crispness in the air—something in the air just smells of hockey. I might play the whole year between training and scrimmages, but fall time means real games. It means the rush and high of a win and the crushing feeling of defeat when we lose.

My phone rings in my pocket and I pull it out, seeing my sister’s name light up the screen.

“Hey, Bina,” I say into the speaker.

“Bennett, what the hell?” I hear something slam in the background, like a kitchen counter or something.

I take a seat on the step and pinch the bridge of my nose. “What did I do now?”

Something else slams and she curses. “Our sports reporter cornered me today, with this gloating smirk on his face, and informed me that he had exclusive news that you’ve been suspended for doing steroids. I told him that was an outright lie, but is it, Bennett? Are you on steroids? Do I need to come there and haul your ass to rehab? Because I will. You might be a giant, but I can do it. Don’t underestimate me, Bennett James.”