“Keep working on it, buddy, and you will be. I can tell.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I rest my phone against the vase on the table. “You’re a center, right?”
He nods, eyes bright.
“I know the best center in the league. You a fan of my buddy, Declan Lowes?”
His face ignites. “Are you kidding? Besides you, he’s my favourite player! He’s way faster than me, though. I could never be that fast.”
“Who says?”
“I’m eight!”
I bark a laugh. “You’ll be eighteen soon enough, and then what? You have to believe you’re going to be the best, buddy. Work for it. You’ll get there. You better wind up playing for Pittsburgh, too. We can make our own Black family legacy.”
I don’t know why I said that. Legacy is a word I’ve grown to hate. I don’t have a family, not one that’s intact. But I’m looking right in his eyes, for fuck’s sake.Myeyes. I can’t just pretend heisn’t a piece of me. I can’t pretend I wouldn’t love for another Black to take over when I hang up the skates for good.
“Dad would die if I moved away,” he says, breathing heavily into the phone. “He’s already sad that you’re there. If I moved there, too? He might cry, Uncle Boss. Like big, baby tears.”
My smile falters a bit. I reach up and rub the spot on my chest that suddenly won’t stop hurting. Bennett’s eyes flicker above the camera and he shakes his head. After a few seconds of silence, he rolls his eyes.
“Gotta go, Uncle Boss. Dad wants to talk to you.”
“Alright, buddy. Talk soon.”
Seconds later, my brother is on the screen. He looks…like Kane. He’s younger than me, but prematurely graying on the sides. His dark brown eyes are framed with lines, like life dealing with our parents has aged him, or maybe he just laughs a lot with a functional, decent family of his own. Who knows? He’s still Kane, though.
We have never video-called before. Not once.
“You need a haircut,” is the first thing he says.
I smirk. “You need some hair dye.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Have a couple kids, Boss. That’ll do it.”
He brings me through his kitchen. I’m glad he tore down our old home and rebuilt it. Started anew. There’s no touch of my parents or of what happened to us all those years ago. All I see are modern farmhouse walls and doors, white and black. Pristine and fresh. None of our history tainting any corner.
“Your boy is talented, Kane.”
He lets out a long breath, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. Uncle Boss pays for the best lessons.”
“Nah, that’s natural.”
“I know,” he says, bringing a mug of coffee to his lips. “He reminds me of you. All the time. The talent. The attitude. The desire to grow his hair to his ass crack.”
I chuckle, and we both just look at each other. Our smiles slowly fall at the same time. I know without asking that he’s feeling the same pain that I am. Why are we so distant? Why don’t I know my nephews? Guilt slams into me, realizing Bennett and the boysknowme. I have a name. They know my face. They wear my jersey. Kane keeps me a part of his family, even though we don’t speak. He’s…kept me alive to them.
I have never once returned the favour. I have never once attempted to know his kids, his wife, the man he’s become.
“What happened to us, Boston?” is all he says, and it’s quiet. Contemplative.
I swallow, letting out a long breath. Too much. Too young. “I don’t know.”
“My kid idolizes you.”
I look down, that guilt blossoming into a rage. A rage at how badly our parents fucked us up. How we let them tear us apart after Ryan died. How we should have clung to each other, rather than run from each other. Years have passed.Years.I haven’t even met my brother’s youngest son.
