Page 54 of Playing the Player

She gives me a sad smile. “If you’re too much for someone after they've seen the real you,” she squeezes my hand again, “then they were never your person.”

The words settle somewhere deep inside my chest. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time to finally stop hiding.

22

Sasha

Saying goodbye to my little brother never gets any easier. It feels like someone is reaching inside my chest and taking away a piece of my heart. I hate that I don’t get to see him every day. I feel guilty that I’ll not be there for him if he ever needs me. Maybe I should move back home. I had thought about it after Max and I split up, but my job was here, my friends were here. There’s not much here for me in Florida anymore. My job is at a standstill and my apartment is on a lease so it wouldn’t be too hard leaving that behind.

Sure I have Liv, Josh and Isabella, but they’re so busy being new parents that they don’t have time to keep me company anymore.

Then there’s Conor. He has become such a big part of my life that I can’t imagine my days without him anymore. But this arrangement between us has an expiry date. Eventually it’ll end. And then what will I have?

There’s nothing tying me here anymore. Everyone’s lives are moving on. Maybe it’s time that I did too.

Conor and I walked Liam downstairs to where my parents were waiting outside the building. The goodbye is quick. Too quick. Liam hugged me tightly before climbing into the backseat of the car.

I didn’t say much to my parents. I introduced them to Conor, told them how much fun Liam had, and then watched them drive away. I just hope this whole thing has made them realize what they’re missing out on with Liam. He’s an amazing kid. If they gave him a real chance, they’d see it too.

The apartment feels strangely quiet when we walk back inside. I move to the fridge, pull out two bottles of water and toss one to Conor.

“I can't believe how good you were with him.” I say, trying to end the deafening silence. “Thank you, Conor”

He twists the lid off his bottle and takes a long drink before shrugging. “It was easy.”

“No, it wasn't."

“It was.”

“You took him out every day. You let him meet your teammates. You taught him how to skate. You didn’t have to do all that.”

He smiles. “I had fun.”

“I mean it, Conor.”

“So do I.” Something soft settles between us. “I think being on the ice really helped him.”

“I noticed that too. He was different when he came home that day. Like something had shifted in him.”

“I wasn’t sure it would help…” Conor trails off, and something changes in his expression. The easy confidence I’ve come to know slips away, replaced by nervousness I’ve never seen from him before. “But, it helps me when my head gets too loud.” He says quietly.

I frown. “Loud?” He nods. “Does that happen often?”

A humorless laugh escapes him. “More than you’d think.” He looks down at the water bottle in his hands, picking at the edge of the label with his finger. “I’ve never told anyone this. The only other person who knows is Aunt Dee.” He pauses. My chest tightens as I wait. “I have ADHD.”

For a second, I simply blink at him. And then everything clicks into place. His restless energy. The constant jokes. The way his thoughts jump from one thing to the next. The way hockey seems to settle him. The reason he calls me Angel…

“You do?” He nods without looking at me.

“I was diagnosed when I was a kid.”

“Why haven't you told anyone else?”

He lifts his shoulder in a helpless shrug. “Because I was embarrassed.”

My heart breaks a little. He sounds so… broken. “Conor.” He’s still avoiding my gaze so I go to him, crossing the kitchen and standing in front of him. “Look at me.” I take his face between my palms until his eyes lock on mine, “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What if people look at me differently?” My chest aches for him. There’s so much uncertainty in his voice. So much raw vulnerability.