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“C’mon, Waters,” Liam West says from behind me. “Don’t be a pussy. Come out with us.”
I glance over at him and smirk. “I have somewhere to be. I will next time.”
“Where are you going?” Will asks, plopping down on the bench next to me.
“I’m going over to the house to see my mom.”
“Oh.” Will’s mouth opens wide in shock. “You haven’t been there since…” his voice trails off, because he knows it’s been over thirteen years since I stepped foot inside my childhood home.
We moved not long after the accident. My parents couldn’t stand the constant reminder of losing Erik and neither could I. Until now, I had no desire to return.
After I leave the arena, I drive to my mom’s house. A shiver rolls down my spine when I park in the circular driveway out front. This place has always felt more like a museum to me than a home. I stare up at the massive Victorian that spans the length of the property. The high pillars, painted shutters, and the covered front porch look exactly the same as they did the last time I was here. Not a single thing has changed about my childhood home.
As I approach the front door, my mom opens the door instead of the butler. She must’ve heard me coming.
A smile stretches across her withered face, and then she rushes forward, taking my face in her hands as a single tear streams down her cheek. “My baby,” she whispers. “You’re finally home.”
I smile as she releases her grip on me. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Good, good.” She presses her hand to my back and guides me into the house, ushering me toward the kitchen. “I just made a pot of tea. Have some with me.”
I don’t drink caffeine because it messes with my game, but I can’t refuse my mother in her home. “Cream, two sugars,” I say as she fixes us two cups.
We sit at the table in the corner of the kitchen, right next to a wall of windows that overlook the backyard.
She pushes a cup in front of me with a smile. “I was surprised to hear from you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have created so much distance between us. My relationship was strained with Dad. It got in the way of us, and for that, I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you that in person.”
She takes a sip from her tea and then pats my arm with her tiny hand. “It’s okay, baby. I understand. Your father was a complicated man. The two of you never got along.”
“Because I’m not Erik. He was always the favorite twin. Everyone liked him more.”
“That’s not true.” She sighs. “You’re my firstborn. I love you as much as I love your brother.”
“Dad always blamed me. He never gave a shit about me.”
She shakes her head. “In his own way, he cared. Your father had a funny way of showing it, but he did. He didn’t blame you for Erik’s death, Ethan. I know you’ve always felt guilty about what hap
pened to your brother, but there’s nothing you could have done to save him.”
“I crashed the car,” I challenge.
“Your brother had a brain aneurism. It was like a ticking time bomb inside his head. No matter what, it would’ve killed him. We never had any cause to send him for X-rays. He never displayed any unusual behavior or any signs he had anything wrong with him. Whether you were driving the car or not, he was already dead before you crashed. It happened so fast. There was nothing you or anyone could have done for your brother.”
“But… what if I could’ve gotten him to the hospital in time?”
“Ethan.” She taps her fingers on my hand. “Nothing can change the past. I know you feel like you could have done something, but the doctors have assured me that nothing would have saved Erik.”
“I know, Mom.” I squeeze her fingers between mine. “Sorry, it’s this house. Coming here is bringing back all of the old memories. Is Erik’s room still the same?”
She nods. “Do you want to see it?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
After we finish our tea, I follow my mom upstairs and creep toward my brother’s bedroom. I haven’t looked inside since I was sixteen years old. Before we left for Lower Merion, I took one last look at his things, feeling guilty that we were leaving Erik behind.
My mom pushes open the door, and my heart clenches when I see Erik’s trophies on the shelf above his king-size bed. He was better than me at hockey. If he were still alive, we’d be competing against each other. A few tears fall from my eyes as I step into the room, staring at the memories I’d almost forgotten. Guilt washes over me when I consider how much of my past I’ve blocked out.
