Page 44 of Breaking Point
“Sir, I understand my actions are despicable. I know that,” I say, clutching my chest. “He made a comment about Drew and I lost my shit?—”
He holds up his hand. “I understand. Unlike the rest of the world I know what the reporter spat at you. The thing is, I’ve done everything to keep you on this team and I think you just hit the final nail in your coffin.”
To keep me on the team?
I straighten in my seat, my hungover suddenly forgotten. “What are you saying?”
Panic engulfs my body, a feeling finally other than unending sadness, and yet I’m dreading the words that are going to come out of his mouth.
“Your contract is up for renewal. The higher-ups are over the PR nightmare you’ve become and you’re no longer performing how you used to.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Grayson, they’ve got another player they’re looking to trade in.”
“No.” It tumbles out of my mouth as quickly as my heart plummets.
I haven’t felt such a blind panic since the night Drew and I got in the car accident. Who knew all it would take to revive my dead heart would be the loss of my found family? “There has to be something I can do. Please, this is all I have left. I shouldn’t have come back as quickly as I did. I needed more time, Anderson.”
“I know, son, but my hands are tied. They’ll be making a final decision in three months when your contract expires.”
For the first time since the doctor at the hospital informed me that my baby brother died, I put my head in my hands and weep.
I believe Coach Anderson when he said his hands are tied. I believe him when he said he’s been saving my ass for the last year. I also believe him when he put his arm around me and whispered that I still have a fighting chance. A chance to stay on the team that I dreamed of being drafted to since I was eight.
I was wrong before; I was so wrong. I still have a reason to breathe, and it is this team.
Drew would be so disappointed in me. He’d be disgusted I let myself fall so deep.
But I can change it.
I have three months. Three months to get my shit together. Three months to try and turn my life around from the dumpster fire it’s become.
Coach was smart to call Kieran to drive me home. I haven’t been able to stop crying. It’s as if every ounce of emotion I’ve been suppressing with the alcohol is rising and I can’t stop it. I have no shame in crying, not an ounce, but it hurts. So fucking deeply I’m struggling to breathe. Struggling to keep my head above water.
Kieran pulls up to the front of my house and turns off his truck but he doesn’t get out. He side-eyes Lucy’s sedan in my driveway and quickly turns to me.
“Are you ready for this?”
“Ready for what?” I ask, surprised to find my voice hoarse. It feels like I’ve swallowed razor blades.
“To get your shit together.”
Swallowing thickly, I admit, “I don’t think I have a choice.”
He pauses, watching me. “You always have a choice. You can let the team go and become a drunk or you can work through your grief and become the player Drew was proud to be related to.”
His words are a slap to the face, but I need to hear them. Something tells me Kieran knows it’s time he spoke them.
I need to know the truth. No more denial, no more haze. No more suppressing.
Kieran stares at me like my next words are the most important ones I’ll ever speak, but I don’t need time to know what I want to do.
“I want my life back,” I admit gutturally. “I don’t want to wake up feeling like I was the one who should have died in that car wreck.”
Now it looks like I slapped Kieran.
His mouth opens and closes, a thousand thoughts and words flying through his eyes before he slowly dips his chin. “I’ve got you, buddy. You won’t be doing this alone. Let’s go fix this.” He moves first, opening the driver’s side door before he stops. “For the record, Grayson, I miss Drew. Truly, I do, and I would do anything to have him here with us again, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wake up every morning and thank the stars you’re still alive.”
My hand pauses on the door handle. My heart stutters at his words and for once they don’t go in one ear and out the other. His gratitude settles throughout my body and nestles into my heart.
“You have people here that love you, Grayson. Don’t forget that,” he adds before it’s followed by the slam of his truck door. I barely have the time to process how that makes me feel before he’s opening my door and cocking his head, motioning toward my house. “Come on, let’s go speak with the she-devil.”
