Page 96 of No Pucks

“I’m hiding from Dad.” With my brother back in the country, he takes full advantage of my dorm.

“What?”

“It’s his weekend.”

“Doesn’t he have games?”

“Of course he does, and he wants me to go.” Evander gags, rolling to his back. “So I’m hiding.”

“Are you going to get Mother in trouble for this?”

Evander glances over with a smirk. “No. I was in Dad’s custody when I left.”

“Genius, actually, because if he admits to Mother he doesn’t know where you went, she can use it against him.”

“Precisely, and she’s only letting him communicate through an app the court gets record of.”

I laugh, taking a seat in my armchair. “So how long do I have you for?”

“Like you care. I know your roommate better than you. He says he hasn’t seen you in days.” Evander serves the statement just like our mother would.

“Ouch, but true.” No point in denying it.

“So it’s going well, then?”

“I think so.” I can’t quite put my finger on why Anthony has been a little off since our loss against the Monsters, but it’s not worth bringing up to my brother. I don’t need to have him add to my worry.

I’ve been off too, waiting for my dad to rub in the victory. But he’s been oddly silent, which just makes the fear of the impending doom all the heavier on my shoulders.

“Think?”

I need to pick my words more carefully. I love to forget people with trauma end up hyper-vigilant, and my brother is no exception.

“Well, I’m dating my much older coach. It’s not exactly picture perfect or even possible to be public. I’m not sure how to measure that in ‘going well’ terms.” I’m always too honest with my brother, and maybe I shouldn’t be. But maybe that’s the curse siblings share. We’re the only one to understand the other’s specific brand of childhood trauma, thus making us closer.

“Why do you care?” Evander says after a pause.

“What are you getting at?” This is what I get for opening up to a high schooler.

“Have you ever wanted a traditional relationship? Because I don’t think you have. So having to hide it doesn’t change anything about you two. I don’t think you’d be making out in public or overtly open anyway.”

“Why do you have to be right?”

“So what’s your real hang up?”

“I don’t remember signing up for therapy,” I say flatly.

“Maybe if you’d show up to family therapy, I wouldn’t have to come here to provide it.”

I make a face. “No, thanks. I don’t need to talk about my daddy issues.”

“Because you’re too busy acting them out?”

“If you can’t beat them, join them?”

“I don’t think that’s how mental health care works.”

“Maybe I’m tired of fighting my issues and it’s time to give into them?”

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