Page 14 of Wild Blades

I don’t recognize myself.

I look evil.

Possessed and fucking crazy.

“Oh, shit,” I mumble under my breath. “I can explain.” But I can’t. Because I don’t remember. I was too trashed after yet another binge drinking expedition.

I check the date and realize it was the month my life started to unravel. I was in the paper almost daily. On the ice drama, off the ice drama.

It was the month of all months.

The month that everything changed.

Kali’s no-nonsense chocolate eyes hit mine and I’m momentarily speechless.

“Explain it to me, Wade. What is it then?” she demands, but I keep my mouth glued shut.

Her features soften as she calmly pushes me for an answer. “The stories in this file start twelve months ago. I searched hardbut didn’t find one single bad news article about you before then. So, give me one good reason why you think you don’t need grief counseling? Because, according to this file, up until twelve months ago, you were a model athlete. So, the total one eighty in your personality has nothing to do with losing someone you loved? No?”

Keeping her emotions in check, she’s too calm.

I don’t like it.

I don’t like her calling me out on my bullshit attitude, exposing the person I’ve become.

The truth is, I don’t know who I am anymore without Gretchen in my life.

She was my lighthouse; she kept me safe, but she’s no longer here to guide me back home.

Wrapping my lips around my teeth, I stay quiet and shake my head. There is no way in hell I am telling an audience how empty and broken I feel.

She stares me down, all badass and beautiful.

My heart races a million miles per hour, making me feel hotter than a jalapeño.

“I can’t do this.”

Pushing myself away from the table, I prepare to stand and exit the room. That’s my default setting. When the going gets tough, I run.

As I’m about to bolt, I can feel that little black cloud that was about to dissipate, returning, and it’s darker than ever.

“Why not?” she asks.

When I rise to my feet, she doesn’t seem to be intimidated by my height in the slightest.

My blue eyes meet her dark ones, which question me in ways that make me feel uncomfortable.

“You’ve just confessed that playing for the Eagles is all you care about. So, what is it Wade, fight or flight? What you do now will determine your future. Decide.”

“I don’t like you.” I grind my teeth together.

“I don’t care. I don’t particularly like being called at midnight to arrange a meeting to come here today and now I have bags under my eyes because I stayed up all night making a plan to help you. I’m here to do my job.”

She’s lying. She has zero dark circles under her eyes. Just like her photos, Kali Roth is flawless.

Turning away from me, I follow her movement as she addresses Marcus. “Sorry Marcus, I’m grateful to be here. No offense.”

Focusing back on me again, determination written all over her face, she says, “You might be accustomed to the coaches and managers bailing you out of jail and covering for you when you’ve been arrested. Or taking yet another game suspension on the chin and passing it off as being young and reckless. Call yourself a rebel, perhaps. Orwild,like the tabloids call you, proving they are all right about you. But it’s time to admit you need help, Wade. You are more than just a hockey player. The Eagles team is a brand. You’re a brand, but you appear to have forgotten your obligation to everyone to maintain your high profile. You’ve had hours of press training and years of experience living life in the limelight. You know this stuff, but somehow it seems to have dropped out of your head. You’ve given up and aren’t even trying anymore.”

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