After they’ve eaten their fill of chicken sandwiches, fries and milkshakes while parked at a nearby park that Sadie took me to months before, I open my phone and pull up Aurora’s contact, stepping out of the car and slightly to the side before dialing her.
It rings twice, before a gruff voice snarls, “What the fuck do you want, asshole?”
I pause, nearly choking on my own spit at the furious male growl that definitely isn’t Aurora. Something uncomfortable slithers down my spine.
“Is this not Aurora’s number?” I ask, my voice steady, slightly calm—but still firm. My “Captain Rhys” voice, some on my team might call it.
There’s a long pause, then a much lighter sounding, “Rhys?”
My eyes bug and I cough. “Freddy?”
I’ve never heard Freddy sound like that in my life.
I hear some fussing in background, before Matt fucking Fredderic is back. “We’re, um, studying right now.” His voice drops, like he’s further away from the phone and I can just make out a quiet, “It’s Rhys, princess—I can handle it.”
Suddenly, he’s back at full volume. “Sorry—um, wait—why the fuck are you calling Aurora?”
His voice is almost gruff, like he’s a little annoyed with me.
“Why am I—” I cut myself off from the tirade I’d like to spring on my forward that definitely ends with Find a new fucking tutor and leave that girl alone. But, instead, I run a hand over my face and sigh. “Sadie wants me to bring her brothers to Aurora at the dorms.”
Another bout of rustling, and I can hear Freddy complaining in the background as Aurora takes over.
“Hey,” she starts, voice light and airy. “Sorry, I’ve been having a problem with spam calls. Um, I can—I won’t be back for a few hours. Shoot.”
“It’s fine, Rora.” I smile and look back at my car, seeing the boys dipping the last of their friends into the shakes, chocolate smeared all over Liam’s mouth. They look calm—even Oliver, to a degree, has relaxed just a bit. “I can keep them with me until later, if you want. Just let me know when you’re ready for them, okay? Take as long as you need.”
She sighs into the phone with an audible smile. “Thanks, Rhys.”
“No problem.”
As I pull up to my parent’s house, I hear Oliver almost choke on his milkshake—that is somehow not empty, while Liam audibly squeals.
“You live in a castle?” Liam asks, blinking wide at the colonial that’s been completely refurbished.
The front retains its original style, but the back has been added onto and stretches further than whoever owned it first. It’s painted gray, but it’s bursting with life from multiple trellises and trees, one of the gardens viewable even from here where bright colored flowers dot the canvas of summer green.
It’s a pain during the winter months, but my mother’s green thumb in the spring and summer shows brightly, even now in the beginnings of fall.
I smile. “No, but my parents do.”
Speaking of, I see my mom step out of the garden, hearing my car approach. Her face is all happy surprise when she steps down from the raised terrace, tall green gardening boots and overalls queuing me that she is in the middle of a project.
My windows are too tinted and I want to give her a warning, so I idle the car and tell the boys I’ll be right back, before slipping out.
She hugs me first, and I kiss her cheek lightly before whispering, “I need your help.”
“What’s wrong, Rhys?”
My voice is shaking as I nod over to the car. “Sadie’s brothers are here with me. She needed help—”
“Have they eaten?” she cuts me off, only worried over them—exactly as I expected she’d be. “Rhys, calm down.”
Why am I so upset?
Because Sadie has been alone, taking care of them and you made her take care of you too. Selfish.
I close my eyes tight and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” I swallow again, brushing a hand through my tangled hair. “And yes, I took them for food. Sadie—she wanted me to drop them home, but—I don’t know. It’s complicated. And they’re kids, so I didn’t want to take them to the Hockey House in case some of the players were there, or what if they don’t like strangers?”
My mom smiles again and pats my cheek. “Just get them out of your car and we’ll bring them inside for some cookies, okay?”
“Okay.”
She stands back as I return to the car and open their doors. They both hesitate, Liam looking at my mom curiously, straining over the seat to see her out of the window.
“Who is that? She’s really pretty.”
I smile as I unbuckle him. He should probably be in a car seat, but that’s not something I currently have on hand. I barely stop myself from pulling out my phone to blindly order one off of Amazon. “That’s my mom.”
“Is she nice?”
“Yeah,” I say gently, fighting over the lump in my throat at the question. “She’s very nice. She would love to meet you.”
Liam nods, but his eyes never leave her.
Oliver lets himself out and closes the door, standing at the side of the car and waiting for me to get Liam out.
“That’s nice,” Liam mumbles quietly as I pull him out.
“What is, bud?”
He tucks his head into my neck. “That you have a mommy. And a nice one.”
I have to close my eyes for a second. Fuck fuck fuck.
“Yeah bud, I’m very thankful.” I am now, and always will be, because this kid is hurting my soul.
I decide to carry him, since I suddenly don’t want to set him down. His arms are wrapped around my neck anyway, head ducked seeming slightly shy—the first time I’ve seen the brave little one shy about anything.
Oliver walks just a step behind as we approach my still-smiling mother.
“Hi there,” she offers, her attention solely on Oliver first. “I’m Anna, Rhys’ mom. What’s your name?”
“Oliver. I’m Sadie’s brother.”
My mom nods, still smiling brightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you. My husband says you’re a really, really good hockey player.”
He blushes under her attention, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and nodding. My mom doesn’t reach for him, but I see her hesitate with her hand raised like she wants to. Maybe she can see what I see, that he’s a bit like Bennett, tense and desperate for space—at least physically.
“And who are you, love?” She gentles her voice even further, stepping up to look at Liam who’s ducked his head back into my neck while his little fingers play with the hem of my shirt.
He doesn’t speak, just continuing to glance up at her like he doesn’t want to look away.
“Jesus.” Oliver sighs, rolling his eyes while his cheeks blush like he’s slightly embarrassed by his brother’s hesitancy. “You can tell her.”
“Liam,” he finally murmurs, slinking from beneath my chin just barely. But I know, if I look at him, I’ll see the same stars in his eyes from before, like she’s a magic fairy that’s come to grant his every wish.
“Liam.” She savors his name. “You are a cutie. Let’s go inside now and have some cookies, yeah? I haven’t made them yet but you can help if you want.”
“Really?” His eyes go wide. “With chocolate chips?” He jumps from my arms, wriggling until I finally let him down.
Liam takes her outstretched hand, but only after checking back over his shoulder for a nod from Oliver.
Oliver hangs back, just behind me as Mom and Liam step forward. I wait for the kid, settling into a slow pace as my mom takes the long way through the garden and into the house.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I check to see a text from Rora—several crazy, but happy-looking emojis followed by an all-caps text that she would make sure Sadie got rest.
You should make an effort to be here, I’d chided her, the first day we spoke. The memory of my words makes me trip in my steps. Oliver looks at me for a moment and the guilt hits harder.
Selfish, entitled asshole.
I can feel it again now, that voice that left me alone whenever Sadie’s entire presence muted it. The dark thing that lives in my skin ever since the day I hit the ice. The day I woke up to gauze all over my face and my body, still having trouble breathing, and feeling angry.
The anger only faded, until it was just emptiness and then I missed the anger.
Now, it’s only self-hatred left.
But I’m learning the tools for it. I’m also learning that I might need better tools when it comes to handling Sadie Gray.
“Is your dad normally like that?”
Oliver tenses for a moment, but avoids my eyes while he nods.
“Your mom?”
It’s hard to talk around the knot in my throat, but I try to clear it, try to keep my wits through this landmine of a conversation.
“Sadie and I have a mom, but she…” He shrugs. “She didn’t want us. So we stayed with my dad when she left.”
We walk a few more steps, just up to the door. He stays just outside of the open door, the smell of cookie dough and sugar slowly beginning to permeate the air, and his expression is one of anxiety mixed with fear.
But I’m patient. I’ll be patient with him just how I will be with Sadie.
“Are we staying here long?”
“As long as you want,” slips from my mouth before I can think twice.
Oliver nods though, accepting it. “Well, you should tell Rora. Maybe she can make sissy get some sleep—she never gets any sleep.”
“Because of your dad?”
I’ve stepped into one of the landmines when his stance turns defensive, eyes sharp.
“She takes good care of us,” he cuts back over his shoulder, like he can’t quite look fully at me as he says it. He’s defensive, sure, but he’s scared. “Sadie—she takes care of me and Liam; and I help. We don’t need anything.”
He steps into the house without pausing, and I know that’s all I’ll get from him for now. He doesn’t trust me yet, not really. But I’m keying into his words—Sadie and I. Does that mean that Liam’s mom is someone else? Is she in their lives?
Or is Sadie alone?
Oliver hangs back in the kitchen, unsure of what to do, while Liam spends every second looking at my mom, watching her every move and following each command.
I finally get him to sit at one of the barstools. He nervously taps his fingers over the marble—quiet, almost pensive in his guardianship over his younger brother. They’re both mostly quiet as my mom and Liam finally put the cookies in the oven.
They grow even quieter when my father enters the room.
He’s loud, as usual, singing some Russian song that I don’t know but have heard so many times in this exact manner that I often find myself humming it in class.
He doesn’t stop when he sees the boys, only pauses to kiss my mom and greet Liam with a pat on the head. That’s all it takes for the youngest of the Brown children.
Oliver is more cautious, observing my dad’s routine quietly. Eventually, he grabs a bag of chips from the pantry and a dip from the fridge, sitting at the counter and placing all the goods between us three.
Oliver looks at the food, then to me, before quietly informing my dad that I already gave them food and thanking me again.
“You’re a growing boy, Oliver. Rhys used to clean out the entire pantry in one sitting at your age.”
His hesitancy grows, but there’s a little smile from my father’s words working its way onto his face.
“Are you sure?”
My dad smiles, a little sadly, and drops his shoulder so his words are quiet enough that I can just make them out.
“I know how hard it can be to accept things when you’ve spent your life working very hard for very little. Saving up and being a little hungry.”
My chest clenches, and I see Oliver trying to understand how the famous man, someone he’s probably idolized in his own head, was once a hungry boy surviving in cold Russian winters.
“Yeah.” Oliver swallows lightly, but he continues listening intently.
“But, it’s okay. I want you to eat it all. In fact”—he opens the container of buffalo chicken dip—“I want you to try it first, and if you hate it, we have tons more you can try.”
Oliver softens slightly, enough that my dad manages to pat his back and he melts into it slightly.
“Okay.”
