“I was good for an eight-year-old, too,” Declan says, leaning on his stick.
“Your uncle, too,” Kane adds.
“Let’s see what you got, kid,” Saltzy says, pushing all the pucks to the ice.
We play around for a couple of hours. Bennett is beaming from ear to ear. At first, he lingers near his dad, and then he is all about Lowesy, but by the end of it, he is my right hand man.
Remi is on the bench, taking pictures and letting Kent play in a safer area. Her smile is bright as hell, but she watches her husband more than she does her son. I think he might have needed this more than Bennett.
The boys sign a jersey for him, and I promise to get it signed by the rest of the team after tomorrow’s game. I have another for Kent and Mose, too, even though one doesn’t much care for hockey and the other is too young to have an opinion. I can’t give Bennett something and not the rest of them. I’m determined to collectively become their favourite uncle.
The group of us, minus Saltzy, go out for dinner afterward. Bennett insists on sitting next to me, but he asks Lowesy tons of questions and barely takes a second to come up for air. They play the same position, and Lowesy is the best in the league. Saltzy, too, but even an eight-year-old could tell which of the two was more approachable. Plus, Lowesy has a star power that Saltzy doesn’t. A certain charm.
When we get back to the farmhouse, Moseley is fast asleep, and Kent is fighting for his life just to stay awake. Remi quietlyexcuses herself to put them to bed. Bennett, Kane, and I gather on the couch to watchThe Mighty Ducks—Bennett’s choice. He lasts fifteen minutes and half a bowl of popcorn before he passes out between us.
Kane slowly glances at me. “This was the best day of his life.”
I smile, glancing down at my nephew, messy dark hair in his face. “It’s up there for me, too.”
Kane reaches down, pushing that hair off his forehead, an act so nurturing that it tugs at my heart. “Me too. Though, watching you win that cup is hard to beat.”
My throat constricts at the acknowledgement. He’s been cheering me on for years—years—while I’ve been doing my best to pretend he doesn’t exist.
I bring my eyes back to my brother. “He’s a good kid, Kane. They all are. You did well with them.”
“A lot of it is Remi,” he admits quietly, still sweeping his hand over his son’s hair. “But…I’m a good Dad. I’d burn the world down for them. I worried about that…if I’d fuck this all up, but…I think I did okay.”
“More than okay,” I assure him. And it’s true. The love he shows his kids is unlike anything I could have expected from one of us. He’s a natural. He beat the odds, and I’m proud of him for it. That is much, much harder than winning a cup.
His dark eyes flicker to mine. “Thanks, Boss.”
I nod, glancing down at my nephew again, whose feet are in my lap. Pure. Innocent. Kind. Funny as hell, and talented beyond measure, too. Older than Ryan ever got to be, because he didn’t have parents like his dad did. He had his dad. He won.
“You’re good with them,” Kane says after some silence. I shrug, like it’s no big deal. It’s easy to be good with kids that you get to return right back to their parents. “I don’t know what you want in life, but if kids are on that list, I want you to know that you’d be a fantastic dad, Boston.”
I swallow, shaking my head in disagreement, still watching my nephew.
“You would be. You listen. You care. The fact that you worry aboutnotbeing good enough is usually a good sign that you will be,” he says quietly.
I clear my throat, shaking my head again. “Not in the cards for me, man.”
He stares at me, so I reach for my beer, taking a swig. “Because of Mom and Dad, or because of Ryan?”
The realization stabs right through me. I’ve always known why I resented the idea of a family. I didn’t want to wind up like my parents, ruining a generation of children because of my own problems. Life turns quickly. Who is to say I don’t wind up travelling down the same fucking path as them, or worse, that my children do? But… I never thought of Ryan as a reason.
Kane’s right. I barely survived losing a brother. What if I lost my child tragically? What if my child passed away, for one reason or another, before I did? I’m not so sure I’d ever be in one piece again. What if my partner did something to harm my kid?What if?
I sigh, my eyes burning into the TV. “I don’t know, Kane. Both.”
“Don’t let them take that from you, Boston,” he murmurs, reaching across his son to squeeze my shoulder. “They’ve taken enough.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
ariana
I haven’t seen,touched, or kissed Boston in two weeks. It’s been torture. His brother is in town with his wife and kids, and since we’re not…you know, it would be weird if I was lingering around his house. What would happen if Kane met my brother and asked if that girl who has been hanging around Boston’s farmhouse was his sister?
Nightmare.
