Page 104 of Saddle Storm

I push my cold coffee aside and wrap my hands around the cool glass.

“Figured you’re not planning on making good on your word to go have a few with me, might as well sneak one in.”

“I’ll make good on it.” I set my phone aside. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Hate to point out the obvious, but that’s sorta the point of getting beers with your brother. Maybe I can help?”

I shake my head. “Thanks, but my agent’s on it,” I say flatly.

“Not that kind of help, Silas,” he rasps.

I take a sip and look past him.

“But all right, fine. Let’s talk about that. Know you were back at the arena last week. Watching instead of playing. How’d that feel?”

I turn a hard glare at him. “Dream come true.”

I’ve got to say, out of both my brothers, Dallas is the most patient—which only adds to my frustration because he acts like a goddamn therapist, just waiting for me to burst. He leans back and takes a sip too. “Standin’ next to some pretty important folks there, so I’d say so.”

“That’s not exactly the suit I wanted to be wearing,” I mutter.

He leans in like we’re getting somewhere. “I know that. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. And I know this is going to come back to bite me, but why didn’t you listen to me last year? You told me you’d get that shoulder checked out and you didn’t.”

“It’s not my shoulder, it’s my bicep.”

“That you tore because of the pressure from your shoulder,” he practically hisses. “Silas, this is your career, you can’t hide or ignore shit like that.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” I snap. “You have all this. You break an arm, you don’t lose your whole world. I do.”

He’s quiet for a moment, watching me. “You’re right. I can’t imagine what’d it be like if someone took all this away from me.” He twists his glass. “But it wasn’t that long ago when I did lose my whole world.”

I sigh to myself. Millie.

“It’s not the same.”

“Maybe not for you. But I didn’t want to do anything else. Didn’t want to work, talk to people, finish the house I was buildin’ her. I was dead inside.”

I’m not about to repeat that it’s not the same thing because looking back now, he was dead inside. No one could get through to him. Convince him there’s life after Millie when all he wanted was to be buried next to her.

“Look, I respect hockey is your life and we’re all proud of your success. But you’re not dead without it. We’re still your family. Still here for you.”

My nod is small, unconvincing.

“Why do you feel so out of place here?” he asks.

I look around the fields, remembering my talk with Dad. Understanding his reasons. But also knowing that wasn’t the case with my brothers.

“I know you got back on your horse,” he continues. “It’s a helluva start.” He glances at my arm. “When you’re a hundred percent, I can teach you more—everything you want to know.” He glances away. “What I should’ve done when you were still interested.”

I scratch my chin. “I’m good, thanks. How ’bout we just stick with what you do best these days. Criticize me for never coming around, what the media’s saying about me, fact that I can’t lasso a basketball hoop much less a moving horse.” I shrug and adjust in my seat. “Every family needs a joke. Might as well be me.”

Dallas scoffs. “Wish I could say I’m sorry, but it brought a lot of laughs when we needed it.”

I frown at the honesty behind it. Never thought of it that way.

“Look, I’ve got to go check on the set-up for the festival tonight. How ’bout that beer tonight? I’mma need it after all this.”

“Not tonight.”