“All the time when we were really young,” he says. “But it was mostly out of our systems by high school.”
“I worshiped Miles when I was young,” I say, fighting off a yawn. “He was so much older than me, we didn’t really have much tofight about.”
“Hey, there’s a yawn,” Carter says. “My goal to bore you is working.”
I smile into my pillow. I would fight sleep all night if it meant getting to talk to him. “It’s not boring at all! I love it. So why did Theo give you a penny? If it was a thing with your dad?”
Carter spends the next ten minutes telling me the story of the night his dad was killed. How Theo was driving. How Carter wasn’t with them because he’d stayed late after hockey practice for speed drills Theodidn’thave to do. He’d clocked times fast enough not to need them. So the two of them had gone out to grab dinner, with a plan to circle back by the rink to get Carter.
Theo was a good driver. He’d had his license over a year. Followed the rules. Didn’t speed. But none of that mattered. The other driver was drunk, speeding, and ignoring the red light that was supposed to keep all of them safe.
Carter tells me how hard Theo spiraled after the accident. How hard he had to fight to keep his brother on the ice, committed to the goals they were so close to achieving despite how much they were both grieving.
My heart aches for them. That at such a young age, they had to deal with such a sudden and tragic loss. My mom was sick for years, so sick that by the time I was seventeen, I’d already grown used to the idea that at some point, she wasn’t going to be around anymore. It wasn’t better—in a lot of ways, it was probably worse. Living with death hanging over us all those years.
But at least I was prepared when it finally happened.
I rub my thumb over the back of Carter’s knuckles, grateful for the point of contact. For some small way to remind him he isn’t alone.
“Anyway,” Carter continues, “there was one night when I was just so frustrated with Theo. We’d already been drafted and were playing for an AHL team in North Carolina. He’d had too much to drink and was picked up by the cops for drunk and disorderly conduct, and I was just so angry with him. Our team captain had to come pick us up, and it just felt like…everything was slipping away.”
“I can imagine,” I say. “Especially when your success was so closely tied together.”
“After he sobered up,” Carter continues, “I pretty much iced him out. I was done trying. Done taking care of him. Being the older brother.”
“Are you older?” I ask.
“By seventeen minutes,” he says. “And I always acted like it. But then I decided if he wanted to throw his career away, I wasn’t going to stop him. Not anymore.” He pauses, and for a long moment, all I can hear is the low hum of the central heat. Somewhere down the hall, a door opens, then shuts. “Then one night after a home game, he came into our room and tossed a penny onto my bed.”
I suck in a tiny gasp. “Because he knew then you’d have to talk to him.”
“Exactly.”
“This is a really good story, Carter.”
“You’re supposed to be getting sleepy over there,” he says.
“I can’t. I have to know how it ends.”
“That’s pretty much the end. We talked, and for once, I didn’t hold back. I told him exactly how I felt about everything he’d been doing. He listened, nodded, then a week later, he showed up with two pennies, one for each of us. Said they were to remind us to never stop talking. That’s what Dad would want.”
“Geez, are you serious right now?” I ask, tugging my hand away from his so I can wipe at my tears. “You could write a book with this story.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” he says. “It feels a little cheesy.”
“It’s not cheesy. It’s perfect. And honestly, it makes me like Theo a little more.”
“You didn’t like him before?”
“No, I did,” I quickly say. “Theo is fine. But I’ve never liked him as much as I like you.”
Carter shifts again, his foot brushing against mine. Somehow, our conversation has migrated us closer and closer to the center of the bed. For once, all this touching really does just feel friendly. Like it’s more about being present with each other. “Can I have a three- to five-paragraph essay detailing the many reasons why? As this is the first time in history anyone has ever preferred me to my brother, I’d like written evidence.”
I laugh. “You aren’t giving yourself enough credit. Anna likes you more. And she says her girls do too.”
“I liked it better when we were talking about whyyoudo,” he says.
“Let’s see,” I say. “One, because you’re nice enough that you aren’t going to freak out when I use your very warm leg to thaw my frozen toes.”
