Page 106 of The Breaking Point

Coach pointed a finger at me. “Either leave my daughter alone,” he threatened, “or I’m trading you to the shittiest team in the league. Far, far away. I’ll send you to fucking Saskatchewan.”

“Do they have a hockey team?” I couldn’t help but quip.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Carmichael.” Coach leaned forward, his voice lowering. “You and I both know why you’re not the guy for Grace. If she found out the truth, do you really think she’d stay with you?”

The breath whooshed out of me. It took every ounce of strength not to run out of that office—or punch Coach in the face.

Which wasn’t fair, because I’d brought this on myself. All of this had been my fault. I knew it, and I needed to accept that and stop trying to fight against fate.

“Let her go,” said Coach quietly. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want to see either of you hurt. You’re like a son to me. You know that, right? And because of that, I’m not going to spare you from the harsh truth.”

I nodded tightly. I couldn’t defend myself. I’d only been trying to deny what was right in front of me. But reality would always come back to bite you in the ass, no matter how hard you tried to keep it under lock and key.

Later that afternoon, Grace texted me. It was a sweet text, full of heart emoji. It made my own stupid heart soar.

But as I was about to type out a reply, I could hear Coach’s voice in my head. I deleted what I’d typed and stuffed my phone back into my pocket.

I’d text her later. Right now I needed to go home and think.

I stayed up nearly half the night, wondering what the fuck I was going to do. Even as I acknowledged that Coach was right, I still didn’t have the strength to break things off with Grace. Not yet.

Aren’t you just prolonging the inevitable? Why make this worse than it could be?

I snarled and swore. I punched a few pillows. I paced like a caged lion. I stared at Grace’s text and felt like I was going to lose my goddamn mind.

Finally, in the early morning, I replied to her.

Hey, I need some time to myself. Just a few days. Don’t take it personally. It’s just me, not you,I texted her.

I was surprised when she immediately texted me back. I hadn’t thought she’d be up this early. I wondered if she’d been waiting all night for my reply, which only made me feel guiltier.

Okay. I love you,was her reply.

I swallowed hard. I told her that I loved her, too, and hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe, we could work this out.

And maybe pigs will fly, and Coach will buy me a sparkly unicorn.

When I sat down on Mac’s couch and he handed me a beer, he said, “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“I’m really sorry to hear about your mom. I wish I could’ve been at the funeral, but with you being out for the game—”

“It’s fine. Honestly, I didn’t really want lots of people there. My relationship with my mom was ... complicated.”

“I get it. I do.” Mac shook his head. “Going to Caroline’s funeral was a mindfuck. Seeing all the people almost made it worse, which I know makes me a selfish piece of shit.”

“Nah, man. That just makes you human,” I replied.

Mac gave me an odd look. “And do you apply that statement to yourself?”

I looked away. I didn’t need my best friend psychoanalyzing me.

“How was your meeting with Coach?” Mac asked.

“Christ, it was a disaster. He told me to break up with Grace, or he’d trade me to the shittiest team in the league.”

Mac’s eyes widened. “Damn. I mean, I knew he’d be pissed, but this seems like an overreaction. His daughter is an adult. What does Grace have to say about all this?”

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