Page 43 of My Brother's Enemy
He came over the next night.
I opened the door and glared at him. “Last night was supposed to be the end.”
He flashed me a wicked grin before shouldering his way past me and into my room. He was carrying a bag of take-out. “Who said I’m just here for sex? Maybe I’m here for you to shrink me?”
He winced at the same time I growled. “Not the right words to say, buddy.”
He relaxed, giving me that grin again. “See. Buddy. We can do this.” He held up the bags. “I have food and I know there’s a rerun of Harry Potter happening on TV.”
“You’re a fan of Harry Potter?”
He gave me a look. “Duh. I’m a Griffin.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
He’d begun taking out the food, but stopped and raised his head, alarmed. “Do not tell me that you’ve never watched Harry Potter?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know it’s not just the movies, right? That they’re based on books?”
He waved that off, continuing to pull out the containers of food. “Books shmooks. I know the movies are great to watch on the plane when we’re going to our away games. Gets me out of the mindset of only hockey, you know?”
I moved closer. “What do you mean?”
He paused after popping one of the containers open. It was filled with noodles and another bag looked like there were egg rolls inside. He gave me a look before shrugging. “Nothing.”
“Hey.” I moved even closer, my hand going to his arm. “What do you mean?”
He tensed under my touch. “It’s nothing, but…” He was back to watching me, a bit warily. “I’m still fitting in. Or I’m still waiting for the team to fully accept me. Or, I don’t know. Maybe they have? Bruge sat down with me, said it was good I joined the team. That felt important.”
“It is.” I was going over every interaction I’d witnessed from the team and was coming up empty with anyone still unsure about Tyler’s place on the team. “Tyler, where is this coming from? The team is doing better because you’re on it. Trust me. This is my job. I’m paid to watch and assess. The team from last year is not the team this year. You’ve upped the ante. Your whole expectation that you’re going to win is infectious. Youexpectto win, not in an unrealistic way, but in a way that’s just is. Like tomorrow is another day. It’s fact. You’re that good and you’re going to win. Fact. But it’s more than that. You believe in the team and they see that.”
He was so still, his chest barely moving. His eyes were glued to me, and he was listening to every word I said. I encircled his wrist, feeling for his pulse. It was pounding incredibly fast under my touch.
I hoped he could hear the sincerity in my tone. “They’re taking their cues from you. And your cue is that you’re all in with them. That’s breathing new energy into them. It’s as ifsomewhere down the line, someone told them they were only going to go so far and they believed them. They let themselves get locked into that box, except there was no door for them to get out. You didn’t just break into the box to release them. You obliterated the box for them. They’re starting with new belief in themselves and that’s because of you. You believe in them. They see that. They’re starting to believe in themselves too and they’re having fun. Athletes always play the best when their bodies are loose, when their minds are clear, and having fun is the best way to make that happen. You brought that back to them. That’s no small feat. Give yourself that, at least.”
He didn’t reply right away. His throat was tightening before he said, gruffly, “Thanks for that.”
I shrugged, releasing him and stepping over to grab some plates. “Just the truth.” I turned away, giving him a modicum of privacy because I could see what I said had an effect on him. His head bent before I turned away and I heard him draw in a ragged breath.
“It weighs on me.”
I slowed in pulling the plates out from the cupboard. “What does?”
“Coming here. Trying to juggle a family crisis but wanting to do my best as a player too. As a teammate. I like them. I like this team a lot. I want to do the best for them, be the best that I can be.”
I glanced over my shoulder. He was watching me back, a raw vulnerability to him that was making my heart pound in my chest. I murmured, “You already are.”
He closed his eyes and nodded, his chest rising. “Thanks.”
I shrugged again. “Like I said, it’s the truth. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass.”
His lips tipped up, curving. “I’ve never had that experience.”
“And we’re back to our regular programmed Tyler show.”
He chuckled. “Not quite. Let’s eat and watch the Sorcerer’s Stone so you get the full effect of the Harry Potter world.”
“Learn what a griffin is?”
