Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Why, Jay? Why are you taking these? They’re addictive.”
“Just stay out of my fucking business.”
“Did Doc give them to you?”
I brace my shoulders, hands gripping the window ledge for stability. My head screams, and I curse myself for not taking the last two pills in the bottle. What if I can’t get anymore? What if Hayes takes them and I… I stare at my shaking hands like they belong to someone else.
“Jesus,” Hayes mutters as Riley’s footsteps pad closer. She doesn’t touch me, but she’s close enough, and her presence still has the calming effect I’ve grown so dependent on.
“Help me understand why you’d risk your health, your career, hell, your life over this rather than talking to us.”
I laugh bitterly, running a hand through my hair. “You think I have a choice? The whole country is looking at me. Will Jacob Drayton match his father’s records? Is he man enough? Will a Drayton finally lift the Stanley Cup or flunk out like the last one?”
“Oh, Jacob…”
“Don’t,” I say through gritted teeth. “Don’t use that fucking tone. I can’t take it.” I grip my skull between my hands and squeeze, but it does nothing.
Nothing works.
Not anymore.
I can’t breathe.
Riley sees what I am. She knows my weakness. She knows. My heart is thunder, the pound of horses’ hooves, and my mind swims.
I clutch my throat with one shaking hand. “You don’t know what it’s like,” I say, my voice cracking beneath my palm. “Living in his shadow, carrying his fucking name, hearing his criticism over and over, knowing that I was responsible for ending his career, his chance, his life. You don’t know what it’s like to try to live up to all that, to prove that you’re not the worthless shit he always told you that you were… to push through pain so bad that it makes you want to fall to your fucking knees and weep.”
“Jacob—”
“You think I can just talk about it, and everything will be fine?” I laugh bitterly, not even sounding like myself anymore.
When I turn to Riley, my panic is a vibration as visceral as a jackhammer on concrete, but she just nods. “I’m here, Jacob. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are your brothers. You don’t have to manage this alone. We’re here to help you with this.. with everything.”
“I don’t need your pity, Riley. And I sure as hell don’t need you to hold me up.”
“Jacob.” Hayes’ voice sounds strangled, broken. “You didn’t end his career or his life. I think he had post-concussion syndrome. I read his journal. He couldn’t play anymore. He shouldn’t have been driving. He’s suffered with headaches and fits, and he didn’t tell anyone. That must have been what happened.”
Post-concussion syndrome. Carl Drayton? Bought to his knees, to his death by a bad hit? Career stolen. Life stolen. My eyes sting as tears rip at my throat, leaving bitterness in their wake, before my mind rebels. That isn’t what happened. It can’t be. I’ve been telling myself something else for so many years. “You shouldn’t have read his private journal,” I snap, hearing myself and how stupid I sound but unable to stop. I’ve been barreling down the same road for years, and nothing can stop me.
“Listen to Hayes,” Riley says. “Your dad was gripped by headaches. It’s why he dropped out. He was too embarrassed to admit it… and he didn’t get treatment for his symptoms, Jacob. He was too proud and look what happened to him.”
Her voice cracks, and her eyes well, becoming glossy and filled with pain I can’t bear to look at. “I’m not going to let you do the same thing. Do you understand me? You have to see the doctor, and you have to tell Coach. It’s not safe for you to play until you do. Look what happened when you took that punch to the head. It made everything worse.”
I grit my teeth together so hard they creak. “You want to take away my career… everything I’ve worked for?”
She gasps like I hit her. “Of course not.”
“Jay. Stop talking crazy.” Hayes is still holding the pills, holding my sanity hostage, and my hands curl to fists at the sight of him, so cool and calm and in control. How can he be like that when every day, every waking minute, monsters bay at my door?
“I don’t have anything else, don’t you understand?” I’m quiet now in the face of a reality so different from what I comprehended, from the spill of realization, I’m too broken to comprehend.
I fold at the waist, gripping the ledge because it’s the only thing keeping me standing.
“It doesn’t have to come to that,” Hayes says. “You don’t know what the doctor will say.”
“If I have to take a break, if the press finds out, I’m finished. No team is going to take me if I could get taken out with one bad hit.”