Page 73 of Ruthless Blade

I spent hours in the gym, lifting until my muscles trembled and sweat dripped down my face. I worked with the team's nutritionist, forcing myself to eat when I had no appetite, because my body needed fuel. I met with scouts and agents, answering their questions with the same rehearsed confidence I'd been practicing for months.

"Why should we draft you?"

"What sets you apart from other players?"

"How do you handle pressure?"

They got the answers they wanted to hear. I smiled, shook hands, and played the part. Like someone who belonged. On the outside it seemed like I was okay, but on the inside...I was falling apart.

I was putting things in my locker when Dylan, Kellan, and Torin cornered me in the locker room.

"Alright, we need to talk," Dylan said, dropping his bag on the bench with a thud that echoed off the tile.

I didn't look up. This can’t be good. "About what?"

"The fact that you look like a fucking ghost," Kellan scolded, leaning against the lockers, arms crossed. "You've lost weight, and not the good kind. It’s fucking unhealthy, man."

"I've been training."

"You've been starving yourself and calling it discipline," Torin piped in next. "There's a difference."

Leave me alone.

I slammed the locker door shut, and the sound bounced off the room.

"I'm fine," I said through clenched teeth.

"Bullshit," all three of them exclaimed at the same time, like they'd rehearsed it.

"You've skated every morning before the sun's even up," Dylan added, "You've been in the weight room every night till it closes. You answer every question from every scout like a fucking robot, and when practice ends, you disappear. You don't come out with us anymore. You don't talk. You just—" he gestured at me, at all of me, like I was proof of his point. "This isn't training, Kayden. This is you running from something."

"I'm not running from anything." Damn, I can't even be honest with myself.

"Then what the hell are you doing?" Kellan asked.

I didn't answer, because the truth was more complicated. The fact that I’d had her, and then lost her because of a stupid decision I made, well, that was the part that fucked me up the most.

"He's thinking about her," Torin smirked, the fucker reading the words right off my face.

My fingers dug into my palms. "Drop it."

"No," Dylan said, and there was an edge in his voice I wasn't used to hearing from him. "We're not gonna drop it, because you're about to run yourself into the ground right before the biggest week of our lives. We refuse to sit back and watch you destroy everything you worked hard for. And, from what I know about Lexi, she’ll put your balls in a blender if you fuck this up because of her.”

"I'm handling it." Quit lying to yourself. You’re not handling it, you’re losing your fucking mind.

"You call this handling it?" Kellan gestured to the dark circles under my eyes, the way my hands hadn't quite stopped shaking since Garcia's blood had been on my knuckles. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I haven't,” my body stiffened. Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that.

"Yeah," his brow raised, "That's what we thought."

I sat down on the bench, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The tile was scuffed and stained, years of sweat and blood soaked into it. "I fell in love with her instead of keeping her at a distance like I was supposed to. I fucked up.”

Nobody said anything for a second.

"That's not fucking it up," Torin added. "That's what happened. You can't help who you fall for."

"I told her she was a mistake." My voice cracked on the word, and I hated it. "I said that to her, and then I went and told her I loved her, just for her to close the door on us. I don’t blame her, not after the way I treated her. But it still fucking sucks.”