I didn’t know what to say. The only people that came to mind were my coach and my cutman, but they weren’t actually my friends. They were just the people I spent the most time with.
“All right, I see your point,” I grumbled under my breath.
“I just want you to be happy, bro.” Gavin pulled me into him. “You’ve been through too much to not truly live life.”
I stared down at my hands wrapped around my empty rocks glass. “Yeah, I need to figure something out.”
“You will. Tomorrow is a new day.”
“When the hell did you get so good at giving advice?” I glanced up at my big brother, who was—really for the first time in our lives—being the big brother I had always needed him to be.
Sean chuckled. “He’s become very wise since Myla got him reading and shit.”
Gavin threw his hands in the air. “What can I say? That chick has made a better man out of me.”
Chapter 6
Griffin
“Happy birthday, bro.” Gavin slapped my shoulder as he walked into our parents’ foyer with a shit-eating grin on his face. His wife was in tow, beaming at me and holding a huge gift-wrapped box with a blue bow on the top. Sean, Jessica, and Jordan were already sitting awkwardly with my folks in the living room.
Myla shoved the gift into my hands before hooking her arms around my middle. “Happy birthday, Griff.”
Myla and I were not the closest of in-laws, but she always knew how to light up a room. Her bubbling personality was truly refreshing in the dank melancholy that usually festered in my parents’ home. There was so much bad blood and frustration that dripped from the walls, it had stained the family long ago. Mostly it was because my father was a pretentious asshat that treated my brother like a second-class citizen and resented me for getting sick at such a young age.
Gideon Hayes had grand dreams for his boys, and you would think we were both injecting heroine into our eyeballs from the way he treated us, but we were everything he had ever wanted for us. Gavin had been the captain of the New York Otters hockey team for years, was married to another hockey player’s sister, and had a gorgeous penthouse on the Upper East Side—he was living the fucking dream. I was fighting my way into the big time, winning title after title, but nothing would ever be good enough for the crotchety old man my father had become.
My mother waltzed into the foyer, daintily kissing my cheek. “Happy birthday, baby.” I could smell the gin on her from a mile away.
“Thanks, Ma. What’s for dinner? It smells amazing in here.” We all hung up our coats and followed my folks into the living room where our friends were waiting.
After saying hello to everyone, Gavin and I bee-lined it straight for the wet bar while mom answered my question. “Braised beef tenderloin with a kale salad, roasted beets, and Brussels sprouts with bacon, just the way you like it.” The look of satisfaction on my mother’s face was hysterical—she’d plannedGavin’sfavorite meal formybirthday.Fucking perfect.
Gavin tried to stifle his laughter. “That sounds fantastic, Ma! Can’t wait.”
“Helga should have it ready promptly at seven.” She looked down at her watch. “Excuse me, I need to make sure we’re on schedule.”
“I’m going to get some air,” I mumbled to no one in particular.
I started to pace around the back patio. I couldn’t put a finger on exactly how I felt. I wasn’t upset that my mom had messed up and gotten Gavin’s and my food preferences confused; it was an honest mistake. I couldn’t have cared less about Amy and knew I was better off without her. Grabbing my wallet from my back pocket, I pulled out a laminated newspaper clipping and reread the words I had read over and over for the better part of the last ten years.
Michael “Mic” Cooper, 45, passed away in a tragic accident this past Saturday in New York, New York. He was born January 14th, 1962 to Albert and Virginia Reed Cooper in Jamaica, New York. Mic enjoyed hunting, fishing, and mechanics.
Survivors include his wife, Hilary, and his daughter, Olive “Liv” Cooper, 14, as well as many nieces, nephews, other relatives, and friends.
He was preceded in death by his mother-in-law Judy Waters, his brother, Bobby Cooper, and his sister, Maggie Stewart.
“Hey Griff, are you doing okay?” Myla’s sweet voice came from behind me. She was walking outside with Jordan at her side.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just needed to get a little bit of fresh air.” I really wanted to be left alone, but that was just how Myla was—a little ray of sunshine in the dark cloud of our family. Amidst all the drama, all the bullshit, Myla was the one that really kept us moving forward. I guess I couldn’t really be surprised that she’d followed me outside and Jordan was always one to spring into action when one of the guys was upset or having a rough time. I hastily shoved Mic’s obituary back into my wallet and turned to them, trying to hide the fact that I had gotten choked up reading the short article.
“Something’s bothering you, Griffin. I can tell. I can always tell.” Myla put her hands on her hips, smiling sweetly at me. “Why don't you ever just talk to us?”
I sighed, leaning against the metal fencing around the marble patio. “I just don't know how to not take my life for granted,” I confessed. The crap Gavin had said the night before had really started to sink in, and it had gotten me thinking. I hated to admit it, but my brother was right—I needed to find more substance in my life.
Taking a seat in one of the patio chairs, Myla patted the one next to her. “Come on, let’s talk this out.”
I reluctantly slunk down into the empty seat, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.
