“Is now a bad time to tell you Miller is hiding in the back seat then?” he asks, wincing.
I bark out a laugh. The idea of cranky old Miller, in his suit and too-tight tie, crouching on the ground of a rental car full of carseats and discarded crackers is quite an image.
Kane grins, leaning forward to smack me on the shoulder. He keeps his hand there.
“I’m nervous too, man,” he says. “But it’s time. I’m done not knowing you.”
I inhale deeply and nod, hating the way that felt like a punch to the chest.
Kane pulls me toward him, and for the first time in years, I’m hugging my little brother. I shut my eyes, winding my arms around his back, trying to force the emotion to a simmer.My little brother.The only one I have left. For a second, Idowish that Miller was actually hiding in that back seat. He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s one of us. We could…see if having a family is a possibility again.
I clear my throat when he pulls away, running a hand over my bottom jaw. “What the fuck did that kid do to deserve being Miller’s namesake, anyway?”
Kane chuckles, shaking his head. “You got Bennett, it was only fair.”
I guess it makes sense, even though Miller wants nothing to do with Kane or his family. Again, Kane is the nicest one out of the three of us. Miller probably doesn’t even know Moseley exists. I don’t think he’s spoken more than three words to Kane since his wedding all those years ago.
“Was Kent too happy as a baby to give it to him, then?” I ask, reaching for the handle of the suitcase.
Kane’s brow furrows as he angles his head. “Do you not know Kent’s middle name?”
I pause, taking a second to think about it. No. No, I don’t actually. If you haven’t gathered, I’m a terrible uncle.
Kane smiles gently, eyes searching mine. “It’s Ryan.”
I stare at him for a moment. That’s the second time that name has been uttered in the last few weeks and it still packs just as heavy of a punch.
I swallow, and Kane dips his chin, like he gets it. He knows it’s exceptionally worse for me. I found him. I saw him. Miller, too, because he was there to take care of me in the wake of it. Miller forbade Kane from entering the living room when he tried to run in after us. Kane didn’t have to see what we saw. Maybe that’s why he’s always been the happiest of us. The kindest.
“He’s probably the only one of us that deserves the honour,” I tell him quietly.
Kane shakes his head curtly, grabbing the remaining bags. “Talk about my brothers like that again, and I’ll kick your ass.”
“Okay, now how does that feel? Being at center ice in a professional arena?”
“I am realizing that I am very small.”
I huff a laugh, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “That’s it?”
“I’m going to be here one day, right, Uncle Boss?” he asks, staring out at the stands. “Like you?”
My heart swells.
“One day,” a voice says, sliding onto the ice. “Until then, you’re in my spot, kid.”
Bennett whirls around. He spots Lowesy gliding onto the ice with that big, dimpled smile, and he lets out a scream so loud that it echoes through the arena. I jump, flinching at the sound, and as he barrels down the ice and nearly tackles my center to the ground, I realize this kid may have been lying to my face every time he told me that I’m his favourite player.
Two more bodies slide onto the ice behind him, but Bennet is too busy clinging to Lowesy to notice, beaming up at him and talking ten miles a minute, his legs dead weight behind him as Dec holds him up.
“Always the fanfare for Lowesy,” Forker drawls, skating by. He shakes his head, holding out his fist for my brother as he passes. Kane bumps his glove, snapping pictures of Bennett and Dec as he does. “In a few years, you might have better taste, little buddy.”
“Stick with the taste you have,” Saltzy grumbles, nodding at Kane.
Bennet slowly gets to his feet, glancing around. “Carter ForkerroandCallum Saltzman?”
“They wanted to meet you,” I say. They were more than happy to make this kid’s dreams come true. I barely had to ask. Saltzy is the one who talked Coach into letting us use the ice for this.
“I’m notthatgood,” Bennett offers, shooting me a panicked look. “I’m good for an eight-year-old.”
