Page 49

“Different how?”

“Less guarded.” He glanced at me. “I don’t know, you just seem like you’re actually having a good time now.” He glanced at me. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks, Eric.”

He bumped my shoulder with his. “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. And I don’t think it’s just because of Gordy, even though the guy is clearly stupid in love with you.”

My chest warmed at that, but I didn’t let myself linger on it because I could feel the shift in his tone. The golden retriever energy had dimmed, which had always been a signal that he had something else on his mind. It was almost a relief to realize that even after so long, I still knew my little brother.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked. “About Mom?”

My stomach tightened. I wrapped my arms around myself against the cold, or maybe against what was coming. “Go ahead.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, his jaw working like he was choosing his words carefully. Eric was the baby of the family, the peacekeeper, the one who smoothed things over with a joke or a well-timed change of subject. But right now he looked older than I’d ever seen him.

“After you left, she was really bad.” He kept his eyes on the lights. “Like, not-getting-out-of-bed bad. And it lasted for months. Dad had to take over everything from cooking, bills, to making sure Jordan and I were keeping up with school. She didn’t even get out of bed for my birthday. We were all grieving, but she was…broken. The mom I’d always known had disappeared, and none of us talked about it. Dad just kept us moving and Jordan covered where he could, but no one would talk to me, and you know I’ve always been someone who has to talk it out to process.”

“I remember.” My voice was hoarse, and I gripped my elbows, holding myself tighter. I hadn’t known that about Mom. I’d tried calling a few times at first, but Dad had been so grim on the phone that I couldn’t stand to hear his voice anymore. Mom had never answered, and I guess now I knew why.

“The version of Mom that put herself back together isn’t the same person she was before.” He turned to look at me. “I’m not making excuses for how she treats you. I don’t agree with it, but I think losing Bryce broke something irreparable in her.”

I felt numb, the happiness I’d carried slipping away through my feet.

Eric’s hand on my arm pulled my gaze back to him. “But none of this is your fault, Sammy. Not what happened to Bryce and not how Mom handled it or who she turned into after. And no matter what, I’m glad you came back. I missed my sister.”

I nibbled my lip, hating the burn in my nose and behind my eyes. I really did not want to cry right now.

Before I could say anything, Eric wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tight. “I missed you, Sam. And no matter what happens with Mom and Dad, you’ve always got me in your corner, okay?”

I nodded because emotion was clogging my throat too much for me to talk.

Harry appeared at the edge of my vision holding two cups, but he stopped when he saw Eric and me. He read the scene instantly—he always did—and gave us space without being asked.

God, I loved that man.

When Eric wandered off to find Jordan and Dad, Harry returned to my side and handed me the warm cup. I wrapped my hands around it and looked at him. The lights reflected in his gray eyes, and the slight wind had messed up his dark hair, but even a little messy he was still so steady, so unflinchingly present, that I almost felt undeserving of his attention, let alone his love.

“I love you,” I said. It was only the second time I’d said it, and the words still felt fragile in my mouth, like they might shatter if I held them too tightly.

He set his cup down on the edge of a planter and cupped my face with both hands. “I love you too. For forever and a day.”

If nothing else, I would leave Seattle with this man and knowing at least my brothers still loved me.

TWENTY-THREE

I knew the ice rink was on my mom’s itinerary. I’d seen it on the laminated schedule on the fridge, sandwiched between the neighborhood light walk we’d done last night and Christmas Eve dinner. But knowing about it didn’t stop me from dreading it.

I hadn’t been on the ice in five years. Not once. Not even a public skate at the rink in Dunridge where the hockey guys played. Skating had been my whole identity for over twelve years. It was the first thing I was ever great at, the thing that made me feel like I could do anything. Figure skating had been as important as breathing to me. I lived for the feel of the cool ice in my lungs as my blades cut across the ice. I loved perfecting a move so it looked fluid and easy on the ice even if it was anything but. I’d lived for the rush of landing my spins and pushing my body further and faster while feeling the music to my very core.

But it was also the reason Bryce was dead.

Those two truths lived inside me side by side, and I’d never figured out how to reconcile them. So I’d just amputated the whole thing and cut skating out of my life like a tumor while trying to pretend it had never been part of me at all. The thing that had once brought me so much joy had been the thing that had ruined my life.

And it was easier to forget that I’d ever loved it at all if I avoided the ice.

Going to hockey games to support the CFU guys hadn’t bothered me like I’d worried it would—maybe because they were playing hockey and apart from them both happening on ice, they weren’t even close to the same.

But tonight would be different. Tonight would be about skating. And I wasn’t sure I could do it.