Nik
I can make food.
Nik’s always the first to offer food as his way of helping in any sort of situation. I appreciate him for that.
Collins
No. We’re just going to rest today. I appreciate it. Someone tell the girls, Harley’s still sleeping. I don’t want them waking her up.
Mav
On it.
Tatum
Let us know if you need anything.
Dom
Seriously. Anything at all.
Collins
Thank you. Appreciate you guys.
I set my phone down and let my eyes drift closed again before I’m woken up by Precious. She’s making biscuits on my back, I must’ve flipped over after I fell back asleep. She has an automatic feeder and litter box, so she’s waking me up for attention.
“Morning, Precious,” I mumble into my pillow. She moves away so I can flip to my side. Except something’s not right. Harley isn’t asleep beside me, and when I turn toward thebathroom, the door is open, lights off. I quickly stand up, exiting the bedroom.
“Harley?” I shout into the house.
“Kitchen.” She hollers back. Oh, thank God, she didn’t leave.
Stepping into the kitchen, I see what appears to be a roast, cornbread, and fresh chocolate chip cookies spread across the island.
“What’s this?” I ask, hoping she didn’t get up and cook us food after what happened last night.
“Guys dropped it off, maybe twenty minutes ago. I was going to come and wake you to eat soon.”
“What time is it?” I groggily wipe my eyes.
“Six-thirty. I got up around five-thirty. I was exhausted.”
“Same. Now I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” She laughs lightly but stops herself. “We need to talk.”
“I know, food first.”
We quickly plate some food, eating in silence on my couch. Only the sounds of our forks hitting our bowls and Precious’ footsteps make sounds around us. As we sit here, I wonder where I should start. The girls don’t know about Jordan. I asked the team to keep it to themselves, including their wives.
After we clean up from dinner, I guide Harley out onto my back porch, which opens into a modest yard. I’ve got a few wicker chairs, a small fire pit, and a shed out here. Nothing extravagant, just enough for me to come and sit on nice nights. We take chairs sitting opposite each other, and Harley sits there, waiting for me to talk.
I gulp in a heavy breath toward the ground before speaking, “I had a twin brother.”
I dare to look up at Harley, and to my surprise, her expression has remained indifferent. I guess going to school for counseling will teach you that. I continue, “When we weresixteen, we had been invited to a friend’s sixteenth birthday party on a Friday evening. I didn’t go because I had a hockey game, so Mom took me while Dad stayed at home. Jordan—that was my brother’s name—went to the party without me, he took our shared bright yellow jeep. After my game, Mom brought me home, she fed me dinner, and I showered. We were all hanging out, watching a movie, and waiting for Jordan to get home. Our curfew was ten, and we always had to text one of our parents before heading home.”
I take a moment because the next part is the hardest to get out, but I know I need to share this with Harley.
