Breaking South (Turner Artist Rocker #3) - Alyson Santos Page 0,55

about to do, but what choice do I have? There is no choice when it comes to Oliver. He’s given up enough for me. He’s too beautiful to be forced into a violent faceoff with the ugly. “You want me to break up with him,” I say quietly.

Raffie’s eyes widen as he snorts a laugh. “Break up with him? Are you kidding? Have you heard nothing I just said?” He shakes his head, still smirking. “The damage is already done, sweetie. You break his heart now, you’ll have more than some stupid tabloids to worry about. You’ll be going head-to-head with the whole damn Trojans hockey club.”

CHAPTER 11

“Worth the pain”

Says the boy unafraid

Who lives for a game he can’t play

“I won’t fight”

Says the girl so ashamed

Who lives for fame she can’t claim.

OLIVER

I pull into Sandy’s driveway, exhausted and ready to collapse on the couch. I can run drills from sun-up to sun-down, push for hours in the gym, battle through tedious, and sometimes painful rehab, and it’s got nothing on the marathon meetings today. Coaches, front office bigwigs, the team psychologist, everyone wanted a piece of me from the second I arrived. They’re all so damn sure I’m a different person today than I’ve been for the years they’ve known me, just because some stupid websites tried to make a buck on gossip. Even Genevieve joined the parade, leaving multiple messages to call her. I don’t blame her. She probably wants to know who the hell Regina whatever is also. I can’t bring myself to face her critique on top of everything else, so I haven’t returned her inquiries. Later, maybe. Once I get a moment to breathe and sort through the mess that is my brain. I wondered what ugly meant, what millions of judgmental eyes would look like. Now, I know.

After parking my car, I trudge up to the house and push inside. I’ve never wished for a separate entrance to my apartment as much as at this moment. I can’t take more from Sandy and Kelsie right now. Especially, because after an entire day of hearing how much I fucked up, I still don’t think I did. What did I do wrong other than fall for a woman whose life is complicated? Plenty, according to everyone else.

Camille. If I ever needed to hear my sister’s voice and see her supportive smile, it’s now. She’s left several messages as well. She’ll be the first voice I seek out as soon as I gather the strength to keep going. One day at a time, right? This day is maxed out.

Sandy’s house smell’s amazing when I step inside. My stomach rumbles with hunger, and I realize how little I’ve eaten today amidst the external chaos and internal anxiety. Suddenly, another lecture from my teammate doesn’t seem so bad. The aromas of baking bread and simmering sauces waft through the foyer in an inviting cloud. I don’t like to intrude on their lives, but maybe, just this once, I can ask to join them for dinner. I need something. A moment of connection. Anything to feel wanted after today. The thought of slinking down to my dark basement for a night alone with a packaged meal makes my heart twist in my chest.

“Oliver, that you?” Sandy calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah. Just got in.” I hesitate at my door. Should I ask? Maybe once he sees my face, he’ll know what happened and let me lose myself in the warmth of his family for a little bit. Just long enough to recharge before facing the lonely climb again.

“Good. Dinner’s almost ready.”

I blink toward the light at the end of the hall, my hand still resting on the handle to my door. Was that an invitation? Had to be. Emotion burns in my throat. The torrent I’ve been fighting all day rushes in at once to assault my barriers. I can take a lot. Almost anything, I always thought. Today confirmed the mental game will always be harder than the physical one.

“Coming,” I return, clearing my throat of the rare tears invading my voice. I clench my fist with alarm, forcing them back down. After everything I’ve been through these past months, I’m not going to cry now. With a tentative step forward, I move toward the light.

“Hey, babe. Welcome home,” Genevieve tosses back casually from the stove when I reach the kitchen. I stare at her in disbelief, my gaze sliding from her confusing stir of a pot to Sandy and Kelsie