Page 22 of Breakaway

“But if I?—”

“Listen to me. I know what you can’t say. So hear ME… I need you to win that game. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

“Ar—are you sure?”

“Trust me. I know exactly what I’m doing. Now go win. I’ll be listening to the game.”

I’m halfway through the first period before my head is really in the game. All the time before was just instinct. But we’re already down a point. There’s a whistle and I glance to the box. Baylor looks right at me and smirks.

What am I doing? I swore I’d never be a victim again. If we lose, if I cave, I’ll be walking away from the one thing I love. Because I won’t be able to hold my head up. I will have let my teammates down and the owner who is being more than fair with me.

Mel said he could handle it. That he had it under control. To trust him.

If I do this, my teammates will never be able to trust me. Just like no one trusts Missy.

Damn. Now it makes sense. Missy has been throwing the games or at least trying to. With her out sick they needed someone else. Hands on my knees, I lean over and take a couple deep breaths. I will not be a victim. I’ll die first.

Straightening, I roll my shoulders and skate toward Tatum. With my back to the box, I speak. “I’m sorry. My head hasn’t been in the game. Keep your eyes on me and listen closely. I found out that Missy has been trying to throw the games. Baylor cornered me and told me since she was out today, I had to. He, uh, threatened Mel if I didn’t. My head’s back on straight. We are not going to lose this. Mel can take care of himself. I’ll quit when the game is over. But can you trust me now? I don’t want us to lose.”

I can see the temper flare in my friend’s face. “I knew that asshole was up to something. And no, you are not quitting, but he sure as hell is getting fired once I tell my brother. Let’s win this thing and show that fucker who has the real power. Go give Steph and Teddie a pep talk. I’ll handle Megan and Leslie. We’re gonna kick some serious ass now.”

By the time play restarts I’ve gotten a head nod from everyone on the ice. By the end of the period, we’re tied. Clark shows up at intermission and cuts Baylor off when he tries to speak. Turk is in the tunnel on his phone. I notice that Tatum has had a private word with each of the team. Each of the first-string players are focused and refuse time off the ice. End of the second period we’re one up. They tie in the third with a lucky shot, but we come back with two precision goals and win. Baylor spears me with a glare and makes a show of being on the phone.

Mel will be okay, I assure myself.

As I shower, I realize I am the weak link. Even if they get rid of Baylor, my stepbrother will still try to find ways to manipulate me as long as he’s free to run his illegal operations. Using me, hurting me, hurting someone I care about is just part of his sickpersonality. Like the bogus rate raises of my ‘loan’. I will never get away from him. Unless I give him what he wants. What I told him I know nothing about.

I should just run. Find a place to live off grid. Maybe he’ll leave the team alone. That means leaving the few friends I have and starting over in some other part of the country. Giving up hockey. The one thing that’s ever given me joy.

If I stay, who else will he threaten? Mel may be able to take care of himself, but what about Tatum, Leslie, the rest of the team.

Giving him what he wants will just give him more power, control. And he’ll still never leave me alone. Once he has what he wants he’ll dispose of me, too.

After my shower, I pack my bag. Glancing at my stick, a knot fills my throat blocking my air. It took me a year to save enough money to buy those two sticks. I remember the excitement, the joy, the sense that life was finally starting to turn around.

That part of my life is over. It would be too easy to find me if I ever try to play again. I have to leave. Maybe it will keep the others safe.

Lifting my duffle bag, I slip out the door and head toward the bus terminal. I’ll buy a ticket to as far away as I can afford and lose myself. I learned a long time ago to always carry what’s important with me. Whatever is left at my place is worthless and meaningless. I’ll pick a random destination.

My kiss with Turk flashes through my mind as I maneuver the foot traffic still lingering from the game. He made me feel wanted, talented, special. Almost pretty. I swipe at the tears streaming down my face. There is a crippling pain in my chest and the tears fall harder.

Walking blindly, I stumble off a curb and into the street. Tires screech and I bump into something hard. A woman screams. “Look out!”

Too late. I’m falling.

“Cat!”

CHAPTER 13

Turk

My phone rings. I glance at the screen to see my sister’s name.

“Yep.”

“She’s gone. Her bag, too.

“Where’d she go? I’ve got eyes on Baylor. He doesn’t have her.”

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