“It does,” she says quickly. Her eyes search mine. “How did he pass?”
Something dark and ugly awakens inside me. My first instinct is to cut this off, leave the room, and send her home in a cab. But I don’t. I brought this up. I chose to tell her aboutthis part of my life. I have to deal with her questions now, her interest, because it’s not fair to punish her for the truths I’ve offered. It’s not a bad thing either, that question, but it makes me think about the things I seal up and keep away. The scary things. The things that changed me all of those years ago and completely destroyed my life.
“My mother was…isan addict,” I say, trying not to focus on the way those pools of blue in her eyes get bigger and bluer, wider and sadder.“She left some of her stuff on the coffee table one day. He got into it. I’m not sure what he was doing orwhy,but I…I came in from playing in the yard and found him.”
Ariana is horrified, and I don’t blame her. It’s an awful story. It isn’t any easier to talk about now, just because time has passed. It still hurts all the same, too. It’s an ugly story. A painful one. Her reaction is completely justified, and I don’t move to defend the actions of my mother like I used to when I was little. She did what she did. She has to live with that for the rest of her life, and so do we.
“Boston,” she whispers, reaching forward to cup my face.
I smile sadly, stroking my hand up her forearm. “I’m okay.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me too,” I admit. I don’t say it’s fine, or that it’s okay, because it’s not. It’s fucked up and it shouldn’t have happened. I wish I could have stopped it. I wish I had taken him outside that day, but he always wanted to be near her, and she ‘wasn’t feeling good’ that afternoon and couldn’t get off the couch. He adored his mom. Wanted to take care of her. “My mom went to prison for a while, but then my dad got addicted to the same shit. It destroyed our family. Destroyed my relationship with my brothers. We’re all…fucked up now. In our own ways.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Two. Miller is a lawyer out in Arizona—he’s the oldest, and my brother Kane is thirteen months younger than me. He’s a contractor back home.”
“So, three,” she corrects gently, her thumb brushing my cheek. My heart stills in my chest at the acknowledgment, at what she’s just done for him. “What’s his name?”
I swallow, but it feels heavy and hard to do. “Ryan.”
“Ryan,” she repeats, her voice laced with soft recognition.
My eyes are suddenly burning. I swallow again, staring into eyes that are so full of warmth, understanding, and sorrow. Eyes that care. I nod, my face contorting with pain. I hate that this wave of emotion just completely took over, but someone besides me said his name. I haven’t heard his name from another mouth in over a decade. A small part of me feels like he’s been erased, that he only exists in my heart and my memories. That I was the only one remembering him.
But Ariana asked. She spoke his name as if he’s important to my story. As if he’s important, even still.
“Yeah,” I say finally, my voice breaking. My bottom lip shakes as the first tear falls. “Ryan.”
“Boston,” she whispers. She scoops me up in her arms, resting her cheek on the top of my head. I cling to her, falling apart that easily, my heart aching and my mind reeling. I hate myself for doing this in front of her, but I can’t ignore the dam that she opened by caring. About me. About him.
I knew I trusted her, but I hadn’t realized how deep that line of trust went. I’m telling her things I have never told anyone in this city. Things that my friends don’t know. Things that I refuse to talk about because it physically kills me to have a conversation about my parents, or my brothers, or Ryan.Ryan.My littlest brother. He loved bubblegumand baseball. His laugh sounded like a cartoon super villain, and it always cracked the rest ofus up. Even my dad. I want to tell her these things. I feel safe enough to tell her these things.
So, I do.
We talk until the sun comes up. She knows all about Miller now, and about Kane. She knows about the time Ryan stuffed his mouth full of gum, which he was probably too young to be eating, and blew a bubble so big we thought he was going to end up beating a world record. We watched videos of Bennett playing hockey, and her eyes lit up when she realized that he’s a miniature version of me. I told her how Kane finally agreed to come visit this season and watch a game, and she looked genuinely happy for me.
I fell asleep in her arms, exhausted, dozing off to the feeling of her hand stroking my hair.
And not once did I regret giving her the piece of me that I’ve tucked away for so long, the piece that I left in the hands of my little brother. I have a feeling she’ll keep it safe.
And again, I feel his presence in my dreams for the first time in years.
november
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
boston
I swingthe door open and a little body collides with my legs. The oxygen leaves my lungs on impact, and my hand goes to the toque that’s messily plopped on his head. Bennett tilts his chin up with a big, beaming smile, eyes the same colour as my own. My heart aches in a way that I’ve grown familiar with when I think about this kid.
“Bennett, I told you to knock!” Kane barks from the back of the rental car.
“The door was opening!” Bennett argues back. His smile widens as he winks at me. “Sup, Uncle Boss?”
“Bennett Black,” I say, my voice calm despite the way I feel every emotion in my throat when I look at him, when I reach down to hug him back because he’s here. In the flesh. “The future center of the Pittsburgh hockey team.”
