How could Decker find that happy he was on the verge of grasping, while being back in that lifestyle?
Decker headed to the workshop.Sweat beaded between his shoulder blades and a drop slid down his back. The hot summer temperatures didn’t help his feelings toward his brother any.
He pushed through the door and stepped into the cool workshop and leaned against the wall. Eyes closed, he tried counting down like his therapist taught him to, but it didn’t help.
“Did he tell you?” Miles asked, his head popping up from behind the refrigerator.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, but I’ve been dying to know if he told you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Brian? Did he tell you?” Miles slapped a hand over his mouth. “Shit! He hasn’t talked to you. I totally blew it.”
“No, you didn’t. I just spoke to him.”And he looked about as excited as you, kid.
“And? How did it go?”
“How do you think it went?”
“Incredible! I mean, the three of us working together on Grandpa’s land? He’ll be so proud.”
“Brian would let you take time off school?”
“We made a deal. Architectural school during the academic year, and then I can work on the show with you guys during the summer.”
Of course Brian would work a deal that would benefit him. Keep the kid doing what he wanted him to do and then dangle fame for the summer.
“Is that what you want to do? I mean, all month we’ve been having a pretty good time picking furniture, paint colors, and restoring the history of Stark House.”
Miles lifted a shoulder. “I can do that and still see if I like swinging hammers, too. You know, don’t cut myself short and all that.”
Decker had to swallow. “And you think that being a finisher would mean cutting yourself short?”
Another lift of the shoulder.
“You’re good, kid. Really good. Better than I was at your age. And I’m not going to influence which direction you should go; I’m just going to say do what makes you happy.”
Now if only Decker knew how to listen to his own advice.
DIARY ROOM:
Brian: It’s kind of nice to see my brother looking like an idiot over a woman. If he knew this was a ruse, he’d kick my ass, but an ass-kicking is worth watching him fall all over himself. The King of Cool might have found his match. And I know when he sees it my way, he’ll be thanking me.
24
He was going to die.
Decker’s chest was so tight he felt like he was in a straitjacket hanging upside down. His lungs refused to take in oxygen and his vision began to blur around the edges. Decker hadn’t felt this kind of pressure in his chest since his last year in the NHL. He’d felt his knee starting to give way, but his mind was still there, moving at full tilt. He’d thought that would be enough to stop it before it was irreversible.
He’d wanted to quit hockey while he was on top, but the pressure from his team, his coach, his agent had been so strong—everyone had wanted him to finish out the year—so he had. Then, three games into the season there was the crack heard around the world. He’d gone from the best goalie in the NHL to the guy with the fucked-up knee spending more time in PT than with his team.
Soon the calls slowed down and the time with the guys became nonexistent, until it was just him, Taters, and these fucking panic attacks—which for the most part he’d gotten under control through therapy and medication. But man, hefelt one coming on—fast and hard.
Telling Miles to go see Brian before he left, Decker waited until he was alone and then took a seat on the concrete. He let his head fall between his knees and breathed in deeply.
It didn’t help. All he could hear was his brother’s and Miles’s excited voices filtering through the garage door, talking about this project. Decker could feel the weight of the disappointment Brian schlepped off on him, and the tightness of his chest threatening to crash in on him. It was like a jackhammer was chiseling away at his sternum—and making progress.
