Page 5 of Never Bet Against A Hockey Player

“Well, I have to give you crap once in a while.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I only said ‘crap,’” my brother said, rolling his eyes again. “If saying ‘crap’ is the worst thing I do, then I think you’re lucky.”

“Isn't that the truth,” I muttered.

We both knew our mom was useless and hadn’t exactly set a good standard for our lives. Her or her numerous shitty boyfriends she liked to bring around.

We pulled up to the small house we’d both grown up in, the one I wished like hell I could’ve saved Gavin from.

He climbed out and gathered his things, and I did the same, dragging my feet a little. I didn’t want him to have to face her alone.

It was always a gamble this time of night with what version of our mother we would get.

If I had to guess, my mother suffered from some sort of personality disorder. Her mood swings were numerous and could turn violent. She was far too smart to let anyone in the outside world know, which was exactly why I stayed here.

Only for Gavin. Always for him.

I could have left years ago. She shouldn’t still have control of me, but I’d raised Gavin myself. Made sure he was fed and appropriately dressed, changed his diapers, dealt with everything from colic to diaper rash to talking about puberty, even though both of us had been embarrassed as hell.

I tried to get him out of there more than once, but my mother would never let him go.

Not when he was the perfect tool to use against me. A way to gain money and make us do what she wanted with no consequences.

I would suffer through six more years of this to make sure he was protected rather than letting him face her alone.

I knew what being alone with a woman like our mother meant.

She could break just about anyone. I’d stood against her more times than I could count, but she always held that one threat over my head.

As much as I’d raised him, he was only my brother. I had no real custody rights to him, and she knew it.

She’d threaten to kick me out and make sure I never saw him again.

Gavin wasn’t stupid. He knew what our mother was like and hated her almost as much as I did. If not more for having to watch her put me through everything she did.

She’d been reported to the authorities more times than I could count, and every time she’d convinced them she was doing her best, that she was trying hard and we were just ungrateful kids who had it out for her.

We supposedly didn’t understand how hard it was to be a parent. Despite her never really being a parent for us.

The system had failed us. All the programs they had in place to support her, she’d use for herself.

She was a narcissist, and one that somehow convinced the world she was the victim.

I’d documented things for years, but with how many times the state had found her to be ‘trying hard’ and promised they would follow up but didn’t. Every lawyer I found said there was no point in fighting back.

It was always ‘their hands were tied,’ which was the phrase I heard from every single person I tried to get help from.

So, I stopped trying. I gave up on any plans for leaving.

At the end of the day, Gavin was safe, and that was all that truly mattered.

She had never laid a hand on him like she had me.

And hell, one day maybe Gavin would be a broad alpha or a strong delta, someone she couldn’t use as a tool or weapon against his sister.

That wasn’t even a strong enough word for the loathing I had for this woman and everything she’d taken from both of us.