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Ida glanced toward the head of the table where Jack was holding court, loudly regaling his captive audience with tales of his on-ice exploits.
“Uncle Jack is showing off,” Rhea said.
“He scored forty-one goals this season,” Lexi said. “And he’s told us forty-one times!”
“Jack’s a storyteller, all right," Ida said.
I watched as Jack spoke to the crowd. His animated gestures and confident tone had everyone captivated. Everyone except Cole, who stood at the grill, looking over at his brother and shaking his head in disbelief. I couldn't help but grin at the sight.
"They all said we were done for," Jack drawled. "The press, the pundits—they'd written us off. We hadn't beaten the Maple Leafs in three years." He launched into a blow-by-blow of the pivotal playoff game, painting a vivid picture of the electric atmosphere in the arena, and the steely determination in his teammates' eyes. "Three minutes left. We were down one goal. One!" Jack paused for dramatic effect. "I remember thinking to myself, 'This is it. This is our last chance.'"
"We all saw the game, you know," Cole piped up, causing a ripple of laughter from the party attendees. For a moment, his eyes caught mine.
I felt a spike of adrenaline, then glanced away.
"When the run of play is against you," Jack continued, clearly used to Cole's interruptions, "you've got to accept it. Slow the pace, bide your time. Because no matter how good the other guys are, they'll slip up eventually. They always do." With a triumphant grin, he recounted scoring the equalizer to send the game to overtime, paving the way for his team’s eventual victory. "No feeling in the world like it," he concluded, his eyes shining with pride.
As I watched the easy camaraderie among the McCoys, I felt a confusing swell of emotions. I was in awe of the unbreakable bond they shared. Able to joke around with one another, knowing that no matter what, they were family. But at the same time, I felt an intense longing—an ache—knowing that I never had that growing up, and I never would.
I was surprised to feel my eyes prick with tears. Dad was gone. I was alone.
I needed some space to clear my head. I slipped away, heading down the steps of the pier onto the sand beneath. I walked under the pier’s shelter, the rhythmic sound of waves soothing my frayed emotions.
"It's okay to be alone," I whispered to myself. Leaning against one of the pillars supporting the pier, I closed my eyes and tried to lose myself in the sea's steady heartbeat.
It's okay to be alone.
I repeated it until I almost believed it.
"Elara?" A familiar voice startled me. I opened my eyes to find Cole standing a few feet away, concern etched on his rugged features. "You all right?"
I wiped my eyes. "Oh! Yeah. Just needed a break."
"Understandable," he replied, approaching me with an easy smile. "My family can be a lot." He crossed his muscular arms over his apron. "Sorry for intruding. I saw you head this way and . . . I should go back." He was close enough to smell. Smoke and sunscreen and something uniquely Cole that made my mouth water.
"No, it's fine. You can stay. Unless you need to man the grill?"
"Jack took over. Bit of a control freak, that one. Likes his burgers well done."
"Well-done? What is he, an animal?" I laughed weakly.
"That wouldn't go down well in NYC, I take it?"
"I think they kick you out of Manhattan if you order a well-done burger." I was grateful for the small talk. I paused for a moment and listened to the waves. "It must be nice to have a big family."
"It has its benefits. I know I'm lucky to have them," Cole said softly, his eyes distant as they gazed out at the sea. "Although Jack's a nightmare."
"Nice of him to come back here. I'd have thought NHL stars would be more into, you know, cocaine and hooker parties."
"We help keep him grounded.”
"You McCoy boys are all the same. You seem gruff and brash, but deep down, you're softies."
"Is that a fact?"
"I've seen the way you look at your girls."
"Like I want to wring their necks?" he asked warmly.
