Avery goes still against me. “Oh, Liam.”
“I found the note first.” The memory is still sharp after all these years. “I came home from hockey practice and there it was, on the kitchen table. Three sentences. That's all I was worth.”
Her arms tighten around me. “That wasn't about you. That was about him being a coward.”
“Yeah, well. It didn't feel that way when I was twelve.” I stare up at the ceiling, not wanting to see pity in her eyes. “My mom was devastated. And I was angry. I started acting out at school. Hockey was the only thing that kept me sane.”
“And your mom? How did she handle it?”
“She remarried almost right away. John was divorced. He thought he could step in and fix me.” Bitterness spills out of my mouth. “He tried to discipline me, but really, he was just controlling. He never understood hockey and thought it was a waste of money.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was a nightmare.” The old anger rises. “We fought constantly. About curfew, about grades, about hockey expenses. He threatened to cut off funding for my equipment.”
“Where was your mother in all this?” Avery asks quietly.
And there it is. The question that still hurts more than anything else.
“She never defended me.” My voice cracks, and I hate the weakness I’m showing. “Not once. She just wanted peace and her new family to work. So she let John say whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted. And I just had to deal with it.”
Avery’s eyes flash with anger. “She did not behave like a mother. Children come first. That was not fair.”
“Yeah, well. Life's not fair.” I try to smile, but it doesn't quite work. “I started staying at teammates' houses to avoid going home. I spent as little time there as possible. As soon as I got drafted, I moved out and never looked back.”
“What about your half-brothers?” she asks gently. “How old are they now?”
“Fifteen and twelve. Caden and Travis.” Their names feel strange in my mouth. “I barely know them.”
“Can’t say I blame you.”
“They are not to blame either.” I swallow down the guilt that comes over me whenever I think about them. “I feel guilty about not trying with them. They're just kids, you know? It's not their fault their dad's an asshole or that our mom chose them over me.”
“But you stayed away because of the resentment,” Avery says, showing clearly that she’s on my side here.
“Yeah. Every time my mom calls about family gatherings and wants me to play happy family.” I shake my head. “I can't do it. I sit there at the dinner table with John acting like some patriarch, my mom pretending everything's perfect, and these two kids who are basically strangers. And all I feel is anger. At him for being controlling. At her for never standing up for me. At the whole fucked-up situation.”
“So you keep your distance.”
“It's easier that way. For everyone.”
Avery is quiet for a moment, her fingers still tracing those soothing patterns on my chest. “What are they like? Caden and Travis?”
“I don't really know.” The admission hurts. “Caden is quiet, I think. Into video games. Travis plays soccer. That's about all I know. We don't really talk when I do see them. It's awkward as hell.”
“Do you want to know them?”
The question takes me aback. It’s not something I give much thought to. “I don't know. Maybe? But it feels too late now. I'm this stranger who shows up once a year, if that. What am I supposed to say to them? Hey, I'm your half-brother who's been ignoring you for years because I can't stand your dad?”
“You could start with just being present,” Avery says. “It's not too late, Liam. They're still young. Fifteen and twelve is old enough to understand complicated family dynamics, but young enough that they probably still want a relationship with you.”
“You think?”
“I think kids notice when someone makes an effort.”
“I wouldn't even know where to start.”
“Start small. Text them on their birthdays. Ask about their interests. Invite them for a game. You don't have to suddenly be best friends, but you could be a presence in their lives. On your terms, not John's or your mom's.”
