“Nah.” She shakes her head. “But I would like a glass of that 2006 zinfandel you keep for special occasions after I shower.”
With that, she’s gone. I’m not sure whether it’s a younger sister thing or just a Darby trait, but she doesn’t take no for an answer. I swear she could talk her way onto an international flight without a passport if she put her mind to it. I have no doubt she’ll convince me to have a glass with her, even though I have to be at practice early tomorrow, so I cut straight to the punchline, take out a bottle of wine, and pour two glasses.
While I wait for her to return, I join Goose on the couch, sinking into the soft, leathery seat. This wine cost more than I’d ever admit, but rather than savor the taste, I take a large mouthful like it’s Gatorade. With nothing better to do since Maya won’t speak to me, and because I’ve ignored them for the past two days, I scroll through the messages the guys sent in our group chat after Maya showed up at practice. Cameron and Jake’s texts are sympathetic, but Logan’s contain emojis that get increasingly more aggressive. The last one he sent includes an eggplant, a knife, and an upside-down smiley face.
Darby, now wearing pajamas and a relaxed smile, grabs the other glass of wine from the coffee table and joins me on the couch. “Mmm. Thank you.”
“That was the quickest shower in history. Did you even use soap?”
She gives me a dirty look over the rim of her drink. “When you grow up with three older siblings who monopolize the bathroom, you get into the habit of showering quickly.”
A small smile ghosts over my lips. “Funny.”
“You’ve made some changes to the place,” she comments, cozying up next to Goose. “It looks nice.”
I survey the space. My bookcase now boasts a few current titles in addition to the aesthetically pleasing books I’ve never read. A Polaroid photo of Goose lying on Maya’s lap hangs on the fridge, and an extra e-reader charger is draped along the counter next to the blender. “Yeah, I guess so.”
She takes a sip of wine and studies me, wearing an all-knowing expression that’s frighteningly similar to our mom’s. “What’s going on?”
I’m tempted to pretend nothing’s going on, but I don’t have the energy. “The Bobcats are trading me to the Devils.”
Darby’s dark brows hit her hairline and she heaves herself forward. “Oh shit. Wait, why? You’re their best player.”
“They didn’t initially want to, but the Devils approached them, and if they accept, it’d clear up cap space for some new prospects.”
“It’s not a done deal?”
I shake my head and pick at an imaginary piece of lint on my sweats. “The plan was a three-way trade, but it didn’t pan out. Mark says the Devils are close to securing something else, but he doesn’t know the details.”
“Damn. I had dinner with Mom and Dad last week and they didn’t tell me any of this.”
I twirl the stem of the glass between my pointer finger and thumb. “Probably because I haven’t told them yet.”
She sucks in a breath. “Back that ass up. You haven’t told Mom and Dad that you’re movinghome? You didn’t, I don’t know, think that was something they’d want to know?”
Head lowered, I rough a hand over my jaw. “Maya didn’t even know until two days ago.”
“How’d she take it?”
“Considering it wasn’t me she heard it from?” I lock eyes with my sister. “Not too well.”
Her mouth compresses into a tight line. “You didn’t tell yourgirlfriendyou were traded? To a team across the country? That’s—well, fuck—that’s about the stupidest thing you could do. Or not do, I guess. Why are you keeping this so hush-hush?”
Avoiding her gaze, I focus on the framed photo of Maya and me on the end table. She gave it to me on Valentine’s Day. It’s the one that the helicopter company insisted we take after our skyline tour. In it, we’re both wearing ridiculously wide smiles. “I guess because telling people makes it more real.”
“And that’s a bad thing because…” She trails off, head tilted like she’s trying to read my mood.
“It’s not. It’s just—fuck. I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what I want.”
It’s the first time I’ve admitted it aloud, and it feels like a weight’s been lifted off my chest. But alongside that comes the grief and guilt.
Goose rests his chin on my thigh as if he knows I need the comfort. Scratching behind his ear, I take a swig of wine. “Do you remember when Mom and Dad got Nate and me skates for our birthday?”
“Oh, I remember.” She rolls her eyes. “I stole Nathan’s and turned them into houses for my Barbies. He told me if I ever touched his skates again, he’d hide all my dolls.”
I can’t help but laugh. Nate was always territorial about his gear. At some point, he wouldn’t even let Mom wash his jerseys. “Sounds like him. I have those skates, you know, if you want them. Make a dollhouse for your own kids one day or something.”
A smile springs to her lips. “Thanks, Cole. That’d be nice.”
