“What about Ander?”
I nod my head. “Ander knows.”
“Why him?”
I lay my head back down on his chest, looking away from him. If I look at him now as he continues to ask these questions, I run the risk of accidentally blurting out the truth. “He kind of figured it out.”
He continues to play with my hair. “But he’s okay with it?”
“Of course he is.”
GREEN BAY, WISCONSIN—EIGHT YEARS AGO
Ryan
Not that I necessarily have a lot of practice, but I’ve never been good at goodbyes. And right now, as I watch Big Mike and Ander load up my things into the back of his Suburban, I’ve never felt more depleted.
I should be thrilled right now. Instead of having to go home to Dallas, I got invited to play for the United States Developmental Hockey Team. I’m likely to play for my country in the World Juniors tournament.For the next year, I’ll be living in Ann Arbor, Michigan. That’s where my new team is based. And instead of living with a billet family, I’ll be staying in the dorms there. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for a hockey player my age. But there’s a part of me, a very large part, that wants to stay here with the Bouchards.
Who am I kidding, though? As nice and welcoming as the Bouchards have been to me this past year, that’s what they do. It’s who they are. I’m not special. In a few weeks, another billet son will move in with them and I’ll be long forgotten. Just another face in a picture on their wall.
“You about ready, son?” Big Mike asks with a clap to myshoulder as he shuts the back hatch. Since I’m not going back to Dallas, he’s offered to drive me to my new home. An errand that is going to take him about twelve hours round trip. But there is no easy way to just put me on a plane.
“I think I have everything.”
He looks at me and an expression I can’t place paints his face. “That’s not what I asked.”
“I’m not ready!” Momma B says as she comes down the driveway. As soon as she reaches me, she wraps me in a hug. “You know you don’t have to go.”
“New season starts in a week,” I say. Plus, I’ve already overstayed. I should have been out of their hair two months ago at the beginning of summer when the Hodags’ season ended. But they were nice enough to invite me to stay longer without asking any questions.
It was a lot like at Christmas. Momma B just seemed to know I had nowhere else to go and she’s too polite to ask me to leave.
She lets me out of her embrace but grabs my hands with hers. “Your new team is lucky to have you. But if you need anything at all, please call us. We’re just a car ride away.”
“A six-hour car ride away,” I tell her.
“That’s light work,” Big Mike says with another clap to my shoulder. He looks around. “Where’s Brandon?”
“Sulking inside,” Ander says. He lightly punches me in the arm, then gives me a hug. “See you at the draft next summer.”
“You know it,” I say as we thump each other on the back before we let go.
“I’ll go grab Brandon,” he says, as he runs off.
Brandon
My chest hurts so bad I can’t breathe. My stomach aches. I feel like I’m choking. And to make matters worse, I can’t get my eyes to stop burning.
This is the worst day of my life, and it’s an even worse time formy brother to find me with my knees pulled into my chest as I sit on the floor between our beds.
“Jesus, Brandon,” he says after bursting into our room. “You sick or something? You look like you’re dying.”
I feel like I’m dying. How come no one told me? Why wasn’t I warned about this? When was someone going to let me know that losing someone you care about is the worst pain imaginable? Worse than cracking your head open on the ice.
My heart hurts and I have no idea how to fix it.
Ander sits across from me. We don’t have a lot of space, so his knees end up banging against mine as he mirrors my position.
