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Beckett nods, and yeah, I get it too. He’s a dad who was only interested in his son when he was a professional athlete. What an asshole.

“Do your mom and sister not like hockey? They haven’t been to any Revelers games, have they?”

“Actually, they love hockey,” Lawson says. “Especially my sister.”

“Older sister or younger?” Beckett wipes the corner of his mouth with a thumb.

I’m going to make my brother his favorite brownies for this.

Then it hits me that that’s a very sisterly thing to do.

I sigh inwardly. Because I’ll probably also take some of those brownies over to Brewser and Lawson.

But it will seem nurturing, and they will think that whoever is coming to their house is just trying to take care of them and doesn’t have any feelings for Lawson.

This is ridiculous.

I want Lawson to feel… worthy of being stalked. Of having someone crazy for him. Willing to take big risks to get his attention and make him feel adored.

“Younger,” Lawson says.

“Are you close?” Beckett asks.

“Yeah.” Lawson sighs. “Especially growing up, we really were. I’ll be honest,” he says, looking at Beckett, then to me. “They came to a lot of my pro games. When I started out here, they came to a couple of the minor league games, but when this changed over to what we’re doing now, I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I wasn’t really sure what this was or if they’d like it.”

Beckett nods. “Really true hockey fans might not love bonkers hockey.”

Lawson nods. “Exactly. And I wasn’t that into it, as you recall.”

Beckett grins at him. “I do recall.”

Lawson was skeptical, to say the least, about the switch from straight hockey to hockey that includes letting the fans determine what happens to a player when he has a penalty, where the rules change as the game goes on, and where at any moment a player—or more—might suddenly burst into song.

“You weren’t the only one,” I say.

Alex was also very grumpy about the whole thing when he arrived and realized he wouldn't be playing “real” hockey.

“No, but I definitely wasn’t talking about it on family phone calls or at holiday dinner,” he admits. “And we’ve…” He trails off, then shrugs. “She’s mad at me right now. So she doesn’t really want to hang out and cheer for me.”

Oh.

He really shouldn’t have said that.

Between what Brewser said about him not talking with his family much, and now knowing that his dad is an ass, and now this?

Every one of my make him feel better, make him happy, make him feel loved and like he belongs buttons has been pushed.

It’s none of my business. But I want to know everything. And I want to fix whatever it is.

“Was it your fault?” Beckett asks bluntly, digging into the pan for another cinnamon roll with his bare hands.

I’m glad I already rescued two for Lawson to take home.

I want to roll my eyes at my brother’s intrusive question, but instead I hold my breath and wait for Lawson’s answer.

Lawson sighs. “Uh, yeah.”

My heart squeezes. He seems full of regret.