The Game That Breaks Us Read Online Free Page A

Bennett.” He slaps his hand against his desk so hard that his pen cup bounces and rolls to the floor. He glares at the cup and pens now littering the floor and then at me. “Pick them up, asshole,” he says.
    I sigh and bend down to pick them up. My hurt leg and knee protests with the movement and I wince. Coach notices but doesn’t comment. The cast I’ve worn for months only came off a week ago and my leg is still stiff. It’s not used to the freedom of mobility which is a damn shame considering the game I play. Getting out on the ice again is going to be brutal. 
    I make quick work of picking up the pens and stuff them back in the tin cup with a clatter. I set the cup down on his desk with a little more force than necessary and his lips lift just the slightest bit.
    Coach Harrison is a hardass. It’s why I’ve always liked him and why he’s the right guy for this job—the job of getting me back to my team. Sure, my team has plenty of people who could help me, but they don’t want to. All those assholes want is to see me fail. I’m determined to prove them wrong.
    I called up Coach about a month ago, and after some persuasion on my part, he agreed to train me in his spare time—even going so far as to let me work with the university team. I’ve seen the guys on the team play and they’re good—yeah, it’s not the same as my NHL team, but I was one of these guys only a few years ago, so chances are, at least one of them will end up playing professionally. I know this is what I need to get back to my team, to go back to my roots. I’ve lost myself along the way, and it fucking sucks. I’ve always been cocky, according to everyone I know, but according to my manager, my head’s gotten even more inflated. He’s right, and I fucking hate that he’s right. I needed a major reality check, and I hate that it came in the form of an injury—a near career-ending one at that.
    Coach leans back in his chair, sizing me up. I have no idea what’s going on in his head—his stoic expression sure doesn’t give anything away. Finally, he sighs, his leather chair creaking when he adjusts his weight. 
    “You’re not ready to get back on the ice,” he says. “Hit the gym.” He begins gathering his things.
    “That’s all you have to say?”
    He pauses what he’s doing and looks up at me with an expression like I’m the dumbest person he’s ever encountered. “I saw that look on your face when you bent down. I’m not sending you out on the ice like that. Go do some fucking yoga and loosen up that leg.”
    “Yoga? Seriously?”
    “I’m always serious,” he says, standing and slinging his bag onto his shoulder. “I won’t put you on the ice until you’re ready. The last thing you need is another injury.”
    His words hit home, and my head falls in dejection. “Yeah, I understand, Coach.”
    He nods and slaps my arm as I pass. “See you tomorrow, Bennett.”
    “Mhm, thanks.” I sigh heavily and press my fingers to my eyes, letting out a groan.
    This is going to be harder than I thought.

“You’re not wearing that to the party, are you?” Elle crosses her thin arms over her chest and glares at me. Is it sad that in the short time I’ve been here I’ve already grown used to her glare?
    I look down at my sequined skirt and white blousy top. “What’s wrong with this?”
    She rolls her eyes. “Everything.” She taps a finger to her lips. “We’re about the same size …” she muses. “Hang on.”
    She rifles through her drawers, making an even bigger mess of her already messy side of the dorm room. It makes me cringe. I like order. 
    “Here.” She throws a pair of black jeans at me. I catch them and hold them out so I can look them over. The leg and knee area is ripped to shreds. She tosses something else at me and it covers my face. She snickers as I pull it off. It’s a top that leaves nothing to the imagination. “Change,” she demands. “We need to go before all the good beer is