I couldn’t think about all that right now. Rachel had asked me to come over because she needed help with some things. I’d never told Leif out loud that if anything ever happened to him, I’d look after his family—why would I? We were in our twenties. Nothing was going to happen to either of us. But now that he was gone, I’d made that vow to myself that I’d never said out loud to my friend.
There was nothing any of us could do to bring back her husband and their father, but like hell was I going to add to this family’s burden by being an emotional trainwreck. Even if that was exactly what I fucking was.
“Pull it together,” I muttered as I shut off the engine. “Leif’s family needs you.”
I let that mantra beat on the insides of my skull as I got out of the car. Today wasn’t about me or my grief. It was about the woman who’d lost her husband and the kids who’d lost their father.
I paused for a deep breath. Then I locked my car and walked in through the garage, ignoring the absence of that bike and the way my fingertips itched to run over the seat and the fuel tank. It had been a habit. I didn’t even remember when or why I’d started doing it, and I hadn’t actually been aware that I did until now when there was nothing to touch.
Jesus. Was this grief? Just getting blindsided by random gut punches over things I didn’t even know I missed?
The door to the kitchen opened, mercifully jarring meout of my thoughts. In an instant, the uncomfortably silent garage was filled with shouts of “Uncle Avery!” as the twins came thundering down the steps.
I laughed as they almost knocked my legs out from under me, and the relief was dizzying. I hugged them, and they talked over each other, wanting to drag me to their rooms or the rec room or the backyard. Kalle fell all over himself to tell me all about something he’d made in kindergarten that he wanted to show me. Linnea wanted me to take her swimming because I promised. They stared up at me with wide, elated eyes, unaware of how much they both looked like their dad. Those blue eyes. Those dark curls.
“I think that’s why Rachel wants a fourth so bad,”Leif had joked.“She wantsoneof the kids to look like her.”
“Hey,”Rachel had retorted, elbowing him.“Fourth time’s the charm!”
Yep. One unexpected gut punch after another. Fuuuck.
“Come on, you two,” Rachel’s voice broke through the noise, “At least let Uncle Avery come in and take off his shoes. Linnea, it’s too cold to swim today.”
Linnea pouted. Kalle took my hand and tugged me toward the kitchen, pleading his case with his mom as we walked. Inside, Elsa saw me, and her round face lit up as she stretched out her arms for a hug.
Rachel offered a smile, obviously trying to be strong for the kids (and probably for me). She couldn’t hide the fatigue and heartache, though. “Hi, Avery. How are you doing?”
“I’m all right,” I lied as I hoisted Elsa onto my hip. I opened my mouth to follow up with a quip about practice or the season, but they all turned to ashes on my tongue.
“I think Coach is trying to kill us.”
“You know how brutal the regular season is.”
“It’s tough, but I wouldn’t trade a minute.”
Those had all been automatic responses in the past. Today, none of them felt like the right thing to say to my teammate’s grieving widow. Instead, I went with, “The season is keeping me busy.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling. No hockey, but…” She gestured at the kids.
“I’m sure Coach can relate, keeping after all of us.”
She managed a quiet laugh at that, and so did I.
I gently put Elsa back down so I could take off my shoes. While I did that, Rachel parked the kids in front of the TV. She and Leif had never been reliant on electronic babysitters, but they’d both freely admitted that there was no harm inoccasionallyusing a cartoon to occupy the kids. I had a feeling there’d been more of that than usual lately, and I didn’t judge Rachel for itat all.
While she got the kids situated, I poured myself a cup of coffee—they’d always insisted I make myself completely at home here—and a moment later, Rachel came into the kitchen to get one of her own.
Then, coffee cups in hand, we stepped into the dining room. Here, she could still keep an eye on the kids while we had a modicum of privacy.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “Be honest—how are you doing?”
She stole a glance into the living room, then ducked back into the dining room, fully out of their sight, and let the veil drop. Her shoulders sank. Her smile fell. She seemed paler, too, though that might’ve been my imagination.
She set her coffee on the dining room table, and mine joined it a second later. I suddenly wasn’t so sure I could stomach drinking it.
With a heavy sigh, she folded her arms loosely and pressed her shoulder into the wall beneath a weddingportrait. “It’s been hard. I…” She closed her eyes and pushed out a breath before looking up at me again. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“I don’t think anyone expects you to,” I whispered. “But you know you’ve got all of us, right? Me, but also any of the Rebels. Even the new guys. Anything you need, anything we can do…”
