Page 5 of Lose You Twice

I already know what happens when I miss things. When I’m not paying enough attention.

When someone I love needs me, and I’m too late to realize it.

The thought hits fast and mean, like it always does, and Harlow’s face flashes through my mind. Not the Harlow who laughs easier with Grayson’s hand in hers. The old version. The one who learned how to smile like she wasn’t shattering apart because none of us knew how bad it had gotten.

I know what everyone says.

It wasn’t your fault, Kai.

You were a kid too, Kai.

You couldn’t have known, Kai.

Maybe.

But knowing that doesn’t change the fact that I am her brother. Her older brother. The one who was supposed to notice. The one who was supposed to stand between her and anything that could hurt her.

I didn’t.

So now I notice everything.

I count everything.

I prepare for everything.

And when that still isn’t enough, I work harder.

By the end of my third circuit, sweat is dripping down my spine, and Wren’s laugh has finally stopped echoing in my skull.

Mostly.

I’m finishing sled pushes when the weight room door opens.

Grayson steps in first, hoodie up, gym bag in hand, expression still half-asleep until his eyes land on me. Then he takes in the loaded sled, the sweat on my shirt, the clock on the wall, and the look on my face.

He raises a brow. “Morning.”

I drive the sled to the end of the turf. “Morning.”

“You know most people don’t punish their hamstrings first thing in the morning. Especially over feelings.”

I stop with both hands braced on the handles and glare at him over my shoulder. “I don’t have feelings.” I used to, but now I make sure I only have time for a few things: hockey, Harlow, and my friends. Finding a new girl isn’t in the cards for me right now. Maybe because I don’t have time, and maybe because the right one got away.

“Right.” He drops his bag onto the bench. “That was my mistake. I forgot you’re a hockey-playing filing cabinet.”

“Better than being whatever you are.”

“A well-adjusted boyfriend with healthy sleep habits?”

I snort and turn the sled around. “Debatable.”

He walks over and leans against the wall instead of starting his warm-up, which means he’s not done with his therapy session.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m working out.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” Grayson’s gaze lingers, and I know he won’t drop it unless I end the conversation.