“What?” I ask, sitting back down.
“Why you are the way you are,” he says, like it's supposed to clear up the confusion. He chuckles because he can see my expression out of the corner of his eye while he watches the game. “You’re so content being the last priority because it’s always meant that the people you love are the first.”
I scoff, both because he’s not wrong but because the statement comes out of nowhere.
“Sunday said they never show up and yet…” he nods to the ice. “You’re always trailing behind them, making sure they never feel that way. Why?” He finally looks at me when he asks.
“Because they didn’t ask for any of this. They’re just kids,” I say as Reid scores his second goal of the game and the crowd surges.
“Neither did you.” He argues gently.
“I have the power to make sure they don’t feel the way I do,” I explain to him. “Showing up is the bottom line.” I whisper, the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes because it’s true.
“Hey.” He hooks his finger into the collar of my hoodie and pulls me toward him until our noses are touching. The sudden show of publicaffection set me off balance a little, but he doesn’t even blink when he says, “Every game, if I can’t be there, it goes on the big TV.”
I smile as my eyes fill with more uncontrollable tears. “Even when the Huskies play?” I ask quietly.
“Especially when the Huskies play.”
“Why?” I ask him.
“Because I have the power to make sure you don’t feel like that anymore either.” His tone isn’t harsh; it’s the same as the voice he used the night I was nervous to wear my heels. I nod, only because if I open my mouth to agree, I’ll cry harder, and we are still very much in public. “Good.”
He pulls the hood over my head, kissing my temple as he pulls me into his side so I can stop what tears are falling without anyone paying attention to me, and we watch the rest of the game like that. Brighton even starts cheering with me for Reid every time he makes a play, and for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like I’m burdening anyone. We’re just here, enjoying the game and the afternoon.
When the game finishes, Brighton waits with me by the locker rooms as Reid showers and collects his bag.
“Why’s he here?” is the first thing out of his mouth when he steps into the tunnel.
“Good game, Reid.” I sigh.
He looks at me, and all I see is the anger behind those green eyes, but it fades as he takes in my expression. He turns to Brighton and unclenches his jaw.
“Sorry,” he clips.
“Can I take that?” Brighton points to his hockey bag, and Reid questions his motives for a second but drops it on the floor. Brighton bends down and scoops it up as Reid throws his hand through the damp, dark hair on his head.
“You did really well today,” I say, trying to diffuse the tension.
Neither of them is paying attention to me, though. My brother is too busy trying to find things he hates aboutmy— about Brighton.Is he my boyfriend? We’ve never had that conversation… Oh god, Rhea. Every turn you stumble around like Bambi in the dark.
Brighton looks at the sticks Reid carries, three, all identical. “Right down to the stick,” he says, and Reid gives him a dirty look as we wander out to the parking lot.
“What?” He scowls.
“Seventy-one. These are expensive. You really like the one-ten flex?” he asks, and my brother turns into a different person I’ve never seen before in my life. “You can’t be more than one-eighty.”
“I’m one-fifty-two, but the one-ten flex has a better give to it than what they recommend for my size. So yeah,” he says as Brighton throws the bag into the back of his truck.
“Evgeni barely handles a one-ten, and he’s twice your size.” Brighton shrugs and closes the cover as he turns back to Reid.
“Geno is the best hockey player of this generation,” Reid defends with a wicked grin on his face. “Don’t tell me, you’re an Ovechkin fan boy. Ree… who the hell is this guy?”
I raise my hands in the air because the way Brighton is talking, I barely know.
“Now you’re just insulting me,” Brighton laughs. “Jagr is who you should idolize,” he says. “That’s a next-level Russian superstar. Geno is just following pace.”
Reid inhales, and his smile grows. “Alright, alright,” he nods. “That's better than I expected. I can work with that.”
