Page 79 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

“Tomorrow at ten?” Ashley confirms our call for tomorrow. “Hopefully you’ll be calling me from Georgia!”

“I can’t believe you’re voluntarily going home.” Richie toes off his tennis shoes the second he clicks his seatbelt on. I grimace at his airplane etiquette but decide I can’t focus on that right now. I have bigger issues to deal with. “I mean, I know you were just there, but it took Mom having a heart attack.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a warm and fuzzy place for me,” I tell him, glad I spent the extra money for first class so there isn’t anyone sitting next to us.

He gives me an exaggerated pout with his baby voice. “Ah, did Mommy’s favorite not have a fun childhood?”

I turn toward him, refusing to take the bait. “Actually, no. I didn’t, Richie. I had a traumatic childhood, probably similar to yours, except you had someone younger than you to bully. I had no one.”

Richie frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you mean,bully?”

“Well, you four blamed everything that went wrong on me. You made me fetch you water and snacks and shit or you’d threaten to beat my face in. Will gave me my first shiner. You all gave me shit for how much hockey I played. Said I was wasting Mom and Dad’s money on all the equipment. You’re the only brother who showed up to congratulate me when I was drafted. What part of that sounds warm and fuzzy and loving?”

Richie’s head starts to bob up and down. “Hmm, you’re right. That sounds kind of awful. Though to be fair, the older ones beatmy ass too. You’re not the only one who had to fetch them snacks or face an ass whooping.”

Richie points to the faint scar above his eyebrow that has been there for as long as I can remember. “This is from Will when I stole one of his T-shirts from his room and wore it on a date with Allie. Remember her? She let me kiss her, tongue and everything. Then I got home and Will saw me in his shirt. Dumbass punched me right in the face and ended up getting blood on it, ruining it.”

I put my hand on Richie’s arm. “Dude, that’s messed up. How come I don’t remember that?”

Richie shrugs. “I guess we were all just doing our best to survive. Grow up. Move out.”

I sit back in my cushy seat and mull all that over. I think of Molly and Matthew and how much they enjoy spending time together. That’s how families should be. My abused heart squeezes out a trickle of sympathy for Richie. For all of us boys.

“I don’t want to just survive our family, Rich. We’re all grown now. We should move past all that childish shit and support each other.”

He looks over at me and I brace myself for him to grab me in a headlock or burst out laughing at my ridiculous idea. Instead, he rolls his lips in like he’s choked up. He nods then sticks out his hand. We shake on it, and he pulls me into a backslapping hug before letting go. He turns to stare out the window, clearing his throat. And fuck if that doesn’t get me all up in my feels too. About my brothers, my career, my Molly.

The flight is uneventful and thankfully, Richie puts his shoes back on before we land. Richie drives the rental car while I text our brothers on the brother group chat that goes silent except when someone wants to give one of us shit.

Me: Family meeting at Mom and Dad’s house at eight tonight. Be there.

Will: Who the fuck made you king of this family?

Artie: Pretty sure just because you make a shit ton of money doesn’t mean you get to boss us around, Bobby-boy.

George: Wait. Are you back in town again?

Me: Just meet me at the house. Please? I have something I want to talk to everyone about.

Will: Really? Mom has more important things to worry about than your love life problems. Just because you and that woman are all over the news today doesn’t mean you can swoop in here and demand we all meet up, fuckhead.

Me: Wait, what? What news??

Artie: Like you don’t know you were the main topic for a full ten-minute segment on ESPN this morning.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I blow off the rest of their bullshit comments to pull up a few websites, all of which have pictures of me and Molly from before last night’s game.

She looks so pretty in jeans, boots, and a sweater. My jaw clenches about her deciding not to wear my jersey. One shot shows her looking up at me, her beautiful hazel eyes searchingfor something from me that she clearly didn’t get or didn’t see because the next shot shows her walking away. The speculation on who she is didn’t last long. They’ve found out her name, her occupation, and have a running list of theories on what she means to me. Not a single one has the truth.

I’m so in love with this woman, not even her breaking up with me will make that love stop.

“We’re here,” Richie says calmly.

I put my phone away. I can only handle one thing at a time. Molly would hate having pictures of her on the internet, just like she’d loathe all the speculation about us, but it was inevitable dating a professional hockey player. If she wasn’t already done with me last night, I’m sure this latest invasion of her privacy isn’t going to help things.

“Ready to try something different?”

Richie barely gets out a yes before Will’s yanking the passenger side door open, nearly ripping it off its hinges.

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