Page 40 of Breaking Point
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Search: Are athletes prone to mood swings?
Answer: Yes, athletes are susceptible to mood swings and mental health issues. In fact, athletes have an increased risk of developing mental health conditions. A study in 2019 found that 35% of elite athletes suffer from mental health concerns. Some of the top issues among them being burnout, depression, and anxiety due to the competitive and stressful nature of their job.
“He ran out?” Layla asks, her face mirroring my confusion as we sit at Totti’s, our favorite bar downtown, sipping pink cocktails.
Grayson’s face, full of anger and a hint of despair, flashes across my mind. “Slammed the front door and didn’t come back for the rest of the day.”
“What did you end up doing?”
Twirling my finger along the rim of my cocktail, I shrug. “Organized his schedule. He ended up emailing me everything I needed.”
Layla holds up a hand. “He emailed you after he left?”
I dip my chin before taking a large gulp of my drink. The sweet flavors explode along my tongue, mingling with the burn of vodka. “At first, I was worried but then I became annoyed if I’m honest. It was my first day and my boss just ran out on me, but?—”
“It’s sweet he emailed you everything you needed,” Layla finishes for me.
“Yes.” I peer around the bar, the lengthy NDA weighing over my head as I whisper, “I found out he fired his cook. Not just one butsix. I spent the afternoon getting in touch with the team’s nutritionist and finding out what to prepare because based on what was in the fridge, I have no idea if this man has even been eating.”
“Why would he continue to hire cooks if he’s just going to end up firing them?”
“I think Lucy, his agent, hires for him. I have a feeling if she knew there hasn’t been a cook in weeks, she’d be livid.” I give Layla a look over the rim of my cocktail. “She is a woman to be reckoned with.”
“Should you maybe tell her and just hire another cook? It’s not in your job duties to cook for him, right?” she asks before taking the tiniest sip of her drink.
We always have to be careful with the cocktails. They’re as good as fruit juices that you can’t stop guzzling. One minute we can be laughing and the next I’m on the ground as the room spins. You can always tell who is a regular and who’s new here just by their wobble.
I cock my head. “I could but something tells me he let them go for a reason. Besides, he’s paying me a salary large enough to be his assistant, maid, chauffeur, and private chef. When he isn’t there, I don’t have much to do.”
“No wonder the job pays so much. He sounds like a hot mess, B.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter under my breath.
I might have sent a cryptic meme about bunnies but that was the only thing I alluded to about what occurred at the house this morning. It’s not even about the NDA because I know Laylawould never sell anything to the press; she’d rather cut off her arm than hurt another person’s feelings. It has more to do with the look that clouded Grayson’s eyes as I told him what happened. Not only embarrassment but also a hint of shame and dare I say failure.
I have no idea what’s going on with him, nor do I think it’s any of my business, but Grayson doesn’t need his assistant gossiping behind his back about the ramifications of what he’s dealing with. While this man is paying me to make his life easier, I should do just that.
He needs someone to take some of the weight off his shoulders.
“I’m his assistant. It’s my job to make his life easier and it seems like he could use the help right now.”
Layla reaches across the high bar table and squeezes my hand. “But who’s taking care of you, Bella?”
My lips flatten into a line before I put on a sickly-sweet smile. “Me.”
Always me.
Waving off whatever she’s about to say, I jump in. “Have you heard from Berlin?”
Her shoulders tighten ever so slightly. “Not yet, no. I think I need to stop hoping.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to hope for because you’ve been through enough disappointment, but I won’t stop hoping for you.”
Emotion fills her blue eyes. “Thanks, B,” she says thickly.
“Well, I guess this girls’ night has turned into an emotional shit fest anyways, so…” Throwing caution to the wind, I pick up my cocktail and dump the rest of its contents into my mouth. “My mom’s cancer is too aggressive for chemotherapy. I’m giving up my apartment and moving in to spend time with her.”
