Page 25 of Breaking Point
I give her a flat smile. “Three days now.”
She dips her head, the corner of her lips lifting. “Good. How does it feel?”
“Like shit.”
She barks out a short, quick laugh. “And that surprises you?”
“No.”Why do you think I never stopped drinking?
It’s like she can see right through me, as if she watched the thought pop into my mind and settle. She leans against the boards, her baggy IceHawks jumper hanging down to her thighs. Some of the guys on the team talk about how attractive she is, but I’ve never looked at her as anything other than a coach.
With her blonde hair slicked back today, the guys had prepared themselves for a grueling practice. We’re not sure why,but slicked-back hair correlates to hard practices. It’s like a bad omen.
“I didn’t come out here to invade your privacy. Just wanted to check that you were in a good headspace.”
I side-eye her. “Why?”
She clicks her tongue before pushing off the boards. “Come with me.”
Something in the pit of my gut churns, a foreboding feeling, as I follow her down the tunnel and into her office. I’m surprised to find it empty. I’m not sure what I was expecting but that feeling won’t go away.
“Sit,” she commands.
I’m on autopilot. The voice she takes on is her coach’s voice and my body obeys. That’s when I notice what she’s reaching for, the red light blinking on the machine.
Jumping from my seat, I snap, “No!”
But I’m too late.
“Allie, I’ve got him in the room.” She clicks a button as she puts the phone handle down. Clapping me on the back, she says softly on her way out, “Talk to her before she feels like she’s lost two sons.”
Her parting words blare through my mind until the voice I’ve been dodging comes over the speakerphone.
“Grayson?”
My blood roars in my ears as I whisper, “Hi, Mom.”
She inhales a sharp breath. I can tell instantly she’s holding back tears. I can practically taste the sadness coming over the line, and this is the reason I’ve been dodging her and my dad’s calls since Drew’s funeral.
How am I meant to look them in the eye when I killed their baby boy?
“Grayson, honey…” She trails off, no doubt a thousand questions wanting to explode off her tongue. But then she settles on, “Can you come home? For dinner this weekend?”
A family dinner where there will be three placemats instead of four?
A family dinner that will end with my mom in tears?
A family dinner with my dad staring off into space where Drew used to sit?
A family dinner where it’s quiet because my baby brother brought laughter, light, and sound into our family?
As much as I love my mom, I cannot put myself through that.
That will break me.Thatwould be my breaking point. One I know I couldn’t return from.
I have to lie. “I’m sorry, Mom. I have pre-season training this weekend.”
“Coach Foster said there was only Sunday morning practice.”
