Page 112 of Forbidden Hockey
My hands claw into either side of the porcelain sink as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hat’s on backward—my hat, not anyone else’s—so that my mangy hockey hair’s tucked away. I set my jaw and relax my brows.
“Hunt, I’m in love with Travis Nolan. Hell, I’d fucking marry him tomorrow if he asked.”
Even when I’m alone with the damn mirror, it doesn’t roll off the tongue. It’s not that I don’t mean it. That’s the problem. Being with Travis is something I want so bad, the thought of Hunter’s disapproval chokes the words in my throat, making it a wonder they come out at all.
“Hunter loves you, Dirk,” I tell myself out loud, voice full of confidence. “No matter what, he loves you.”
Flushing the toilet, I wash my hands, and head back to the kitchen, where my hard-ass construction worker brother’s pulling a pie out of the oven. Yeah, we’re at dessert, and I stillhaven’t gathered my balls. To think I really thought I was gonna traipse in here, tell him I’m in love, and casually sip my beer.
Didn’t happen. But it hasn’t helped that he’s been less talkative than usual. He didn’t even lecture me on the benefits of a post-secondary education, and I know it’s not because he’s given up hope I’ll take that route someday. He’s got a nest egg for me he won’t touch, in hopes I’ll use it to go to school.
He serves the pie and ice cream, but doesn’t touch his other than to stir it around until it’s melty goop. A new knot forms in my stomach.
“Hunt? Something up?”
Hunter rubs a hand over his face. “Sorry, I … I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you this. Mom showed up at the site the other day. Took me by surprise. I think I’m still processing it.”
Mom is Hunter’s wound. She’s his stop him in his tracks, fold in on himself, wound. He’s tough, strong, immovable, but one mention of Mom can send him spiraling.
Seeing her?
Shit.
Mom didn’t leave me unscarred, but Hunter took the worst of her.
“It’s been a long time since the last time, didn’t think she’d be back,” he says.
We’ve never hidden from Mom. She can find us if she wants to, but she seldom wants to.
“What did she want this time?” She always wants something when she springs up like a toxic daisy.
“The usual.”
So, money. I don’t even need to ask if he gave it to her; of course, he did. It’s money down the fucking toilet. I’m a sucker because every time he gave her money in the past, I hoped one day she’d come back to us, the mom my foolish heart stillremembers. He’s a sucker because he thinks it’ll heal away the guilt haunting him for leaving her.
“Don’t look at me like that. She’s our mother.”
“Lucky us.” I crack open another beer, biting back what I wanna say. “How are you?”
He’s the only one I care about in this situation.Goddammit, Mom.
“Honestly? No idea. Yesterday, I warned the crew I’d be gone for lunch. I walked around the neighborhood near the site for so long, I blinked, and the stars were out. She seeps inside me, and I can’t think right. Today? Better. It helped knowing you were coming over tonight.”
Never mind, I am the worst, but not for wishing Mom wasn’t our mom. I’m not a good brother. I’ve been lying to him, and that makes me no better than Mom. Hunt deserves better than that. The sleep this guy lost, up late nights with me while I was sick and puking my guts out, taking me to hockey practice in the dark, in the winter. He worked crazy hours, so he could afford to send me to said hockey practices. He wants what’s best for me, does what’s best for me, and I fight him.
I can’t break it off with Trav, but there is something I can do.
“I have some good news for you,” I say. “This upcoming season will be my last. I was wondering if we could attack those college applications together this summer. We can make sure I have everything in order.”
He frowns. Not the reaction I was expecting. “Uh, I mean, of course, yeah.” Finally, he cracks a smile, but there’s hesitation there.
“You still have the money saved, yeah?” I ask. Maybe that’s the problem. Did he use it on the house?
Hunt’s eyes flick away for a brief second. “Yeah, kid. I’ve got it. This is just … unexpected.” Hunter leans back, shoulders dropping. His hand unclenches, and years lift off him. Hasthis been weighing on him that much? Me not going to post-secondary? Hunter transforms the same way cherry blossom trees do in the spring, going from a craggy mass of dead sticks to soft pink blooms.
Is this my brother? My austere brother with the stone face and a brow dark enough to be a nightmare. He’s practically giddy.
“Eat up, bud. We’ll get started tonight. You’ve gotta pick a major first, then a school.” He claps his hands together. “This’ll be awesome.”
