Page 62 of The Way We Swing Back

“It’s okay. I’ve never had that happen before.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t tell Zach everything, but can I tell him to stop acting like he’s choking me? That it reminds you of your mom?”

I paused, debating letting someone else in. “Sure, kid.”

Gavin sat with me for the next twenty minutes, managing to stabilize me in reality, his laugh refusing to let me go back to the past.

He walked upstairs when we finished talking, and I wasn’t shocked in the slightest when Zach came down five minutes later.

“Sup, bro,” Zach said, his voice soft as he jumped onto the couch.

“Hi, Zach,” I said, unsure what else to say.

“Gav told me,” he said, his hand running through his hair. “No more acting like I’m choking him.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I don’t get how choking him is a game, though,” I said, sterner than I meant.

Zach’s voice was calm. “Funny story for that one. So, when I was, like, nine, Tanner and I started beating up on Gav pretty good. Not hurting him, but enough he cried all the time because of us. Mom and Dad got sick of it, and one day Dad snapped. He told us the three of us are on the same team forever, and instead of fighting each other, we should be protecting each other. Team Quinn. Said it was the most important team we’d ever be on.”

“Right,” I interrupted, “I forgot you guys live in a Disney movie.”

“Shut up,” he said, his body relaxed in the loveseat. “Let me finish. So, for, like, the next month, every time we’d start to fight, Dad would come and ask us what team we were on, and he’d expect all three of us to say, ‘Team Quinn.’

“It worked well for a while, but then Gavin really pissed me off one night. I dunno why. But I actually hurt him, and he started to cry. Dad came in and asked the question, and I knew I was screwed. So, I wrapped one arm around his waist and one arm around his neck and jumped onto the couch like I was powerbombing him and screamed, ‘TEAM QUINN.’ Gavin thought it was hilarious, forgot he was hurt, and we didn’t get in trouble. So, every time Dad asked after that, I’d do the same move. I haven’t done it in years, but it sort of became the way I’d tell Gav he pissed me off but it didn’t matter. Because Dad was right. Team Quinn, and all that.”

I grinned, imagining what it would have been like to grow up with brothers, with parents that gave a crap. “Cool story, bro,” I said.

Zach raised his eyebrow at me. “Cool face.”

The sounds of our laughter commingled, only drowned out by the boards above us creaking as Gavin ran around the first floor.

“I’m sorry I ghosted you two years ago, man. I had a lot going on, and you didn’t deserve that crap from me. And I’m sorry I let Gavin drink that beer. Not cool on my part.”

Zach closed his eyes for a second, and I could hear him let out a breath. “It’s fine. Not a big deal.”

Zach meant it, too. I’d pissed him off by not apologizing, but doing it now was all he’d needed. He didn’t want to rehash everything like Tanner would have.

“And thank you for letting me live here. I’m not trying to replace you. Just trying to find a way through all this junk.”

“It’s fine, Easton. I want you here. I’ve just been in a shit mood, and you pissed me off that night by skipping practice to drink. I like having you around, except when you cause chaos. That’s Gavin’s job. I don’t have enough energy to deal with two of you acting like idiots all the time.”

“I’ll try to chill.”

“Good,” he laughed. “And tell your little minion to never try to force me into a room for a conversation again. I’m not Tanner; that shit isn’t going to work on me.”

“Well, we still ended up talking.”

Zach looked me over, his lips curling, a twinkle behind his eyes. “It only took a mental breakdown from you to make it happen.”

I smiled, happy he was back to making fun of me to my face again. “Not cool, man.”

“Too soon?”

“Just a tad.”