Page 35 of Game Winner
I search my brain for anything that can prove I’m not defined by one thing. “I’m getting into photography. Only a few pictures so far, but I could see myself doing that more.” I don’t add that I got the idea while away with the same friend group, on a trip arranged by them, because it would only prove his point. One I now see.
His eyes light up with his smile. “Are you? I’m happy to hear it. Send us some pictures, Brian and I would love to see them.”
“I will.”
“I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I know things were tough for you because of your brother. You were made to feel like you had to fade into the background because of his need to shine.” He pushes a basket of fries my way. “That’s always bothered me.”
I take a handful. Nils has always been my safe person to talk to, standing up for me when my parents would make excuses for my brother’s behavior. “I think Johan never got over the fact that he had to share attention once I came along.”
Chuckling, he grabs some fries. “I could say the same about your dad when it came to me. People say the oldest child has the most responsibility or the hardest time because they’re the first. But we younger siblings don’t have it easy. Lucky for me, your dad wasn’t anything like your brother.”
“Hockey was all I had that Johan couldn’t do.”
Though Johan tried hockey after Nils got me involved, he hated it. Hockey became the one thing where I could shine and not worry about him trying to steal the spotlight.
“And look at you now.” He lifts his soda, gesturing to me and the teammates around us. “Playing well. Impressing the right people. Though, when you first started, I never imagined you’d want to be a goalie. I thought you’d be a defenseman like me. But back then, you guarded that net like you owned it. You still do.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, or why it’s making me emotional. Maybe because he took the time to see me. That he wanted to help. And that my being good at this one thing completely changed my life. “Yeah, well… I like my little corner of the rink. What can I say, goalies are weird.”
He grins. “True.”
“Goaliesareweird.” Sage slips his arm around me, squeezes me hard, and from the compassion glittering in his eyes, I wonder how much he heard of our conversation. “But we love you anyway.”
The backs of my eyes burn. I sniffle and hope that if anyone notices, they’ll assume it’s due to the intensity of the wings. “Thanks.”
I feel like everything I’ve ever wanted is nearly within reach. And if it’s truly down to me relaxing more because I have Tyler and Bax in my life… then things can only get better from here.
CHAPTER NINE
TYLER
Six AM. And I’m wide awake.
Lying between Soren and Bax, tucked under the dark comforter, I’m warm and safe. And completely freaking out.
Tonight, I’m playing in a Metros game. And unless something happens, for the foreseeable future, I’m a Metro. They think I’m ready. I hope they’re right.
I sit up, calculating how I can crawl out of bed without disturbing the guys. Lifting the blankets, I inch up my legs, and lift one then the other free of the soft material.
Bax snuffles in his sleep, turning his body toward me. I freeze until he settles. I watched him set his alarm last night, and he still has an hour and a half to sleep. Once he’s breathing deep and even, I scoot down the mattress toward the foot of the bed.
Our clothes are in a pile on the chair by Soren’s desk. I tug on the plaid pajama bottoms I borrowed from him weeks ago. Every time I wash them, I intend to give them back, but they’re so soft, andhis, and they end up back in my drawer. Even though my own clothes are here, thanks to the moving company, I like wearing his things. Instead of grabbing my shirt from the pile, I pull Bax’s hoodie over my head.
Coffee will help. Or make my anxiety worse. Maybe I can borrow one of Sage’s fidget spinners.
I pad upstairs. The house is quiet, no sounds of voices or movement from anywhere. Maybe it’s too early. I’m not usually awake at this hour. When I was on the Slash, I’d head into the kitchen around seven-thirty to grab breakfast, then hop in the car with Gio, Phil, and Soren at quarter of eight to carpool to the Slash’s practice facility. The Metros practices start a bit later, though today, their morning skate isn’t until ten o’clock.
I scoop out coffee and set a large mug in front of the coffeemaker. Spitting and hissing and gurgling, it works its magic. I pace the length of the room, looking out each window, and glancing at the clock.
Six-oh-five.
I could go back downstairs. Or head up to my room. Going down, I’ll disturb and wake Soren and Bax. But going up, I’m left alone with my worries, and I don’t want that. Struck with indecision, I stand in the middle of the kitchen. The photo of Benny hanging on the refrigerator seems like it’s laughing at me.
Footsteps come from the hallway by the laundry room. “Ty?” Soren shuffles into the room. His blond hair is messy from sleep and my hands running through the strands last night.
Guilt spikes into my chest. “Did I wake you when I got up?”
“I felt the bed move. Thought you were hitting the bathroom. Then heard you on the stairs. Bax mumbled something about getting up to check on you. That you seemed restless during the night. So we rock-paper-scissored to decide who’d come look for you, and I won.”
