Page 181 of Breaking Point
Chapter 47
Grayson
GRAYSON
please tell me you’re not running off this afternoon because I need to see you wearing that in person
BELLA
first, it’s just a shirt, and secondly…
stop spying on me through the camera
GRAYSON
never
and it’s not just a shirt, you’re torturing me
it’s red
BELLA
I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was at the top of my clean laundry pile
GRAYSON
then I thank the laundry gods
you look beautiful today
and every other day
It’s been two weeks since I saw my parents, and despite not being able to step into my childhood home, something shifted in my heart. Knowing that my parents can lookme in the eye and not see a man who killed their son lifted a weight off my shoulders that I thought would never leave.
That ache is still there, forever present, but it isn’t trying to drown me anymore.
Even skating feels different.
It’s always come naturally to me, and this season felt like I lost that, like I had to work harder to achieve something that came to me like second nature. Tonight, that isn’t the case, and as I slap the puck into the net, a siren wails around me as my teammates slide toward me, slapping my back in congratulations.
The smile that stretches across my face isn’t forced.
Finding the nearest camera, I wink, mouthing,That’s for my girl.
Bella and Cindy are watching from my house, the girls deciding to make a night of it to be with Bambi. I have no doubt Asher and I will step foot into chaos once we get back to my house.
It isn’t long before Kieran is making a fast break away again and I’m right behind him. My skates make me feel like I’m floating as I hustle beside him, my mind laser-focused.
Kieran fakes a left, his eyes never even sliding my way as he pulls his stick back and slaps the puck to the side. I’m right there though, our energy on the same wavelength. No looks needed, just trust knowing I’ll be there.
The puck meeting my stick makes the crowd explode around the arena.
The defenseman from Michigan sneers as he locks his gaze on me. He pumps his legs trying to catch up to me but it’s no use. I’m flying tonight, feeling for once like my brother is right there beside me. I can practically hear his voice in my ear, screaming, as I lift my stick and slap the puck, watching it sail to the right, up and over the goalie’s shoulder.
It hits the back of the net as I slide to a stop, spraying ice over the defensemen.
Kieran rushes me, my team following suit as the countdown buzzes.
