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It’s all bullshit to stroke his ego.
Making him look good is the last thing I want to do, but considering I fell into line as a child and fell in love with the game, I don’t have much choice.
Every time I step out onto the ice, his name is written across my back, just like it was for him all those years ago. The only difference is the position we stand in, which is just one more thing that’s caused him disappointment over the years.
He was the winger with a goal-scoring record. And while it would physically pain him if I ever achieved more than him, he also wanted me to challenge it. To prove that his offspring is just as talented as he was back in the day.
“I can’t wait for you to come out here. Only a couple of weeks until you play Detroit,” he says excitedly.
If I were still with Vancouver, I’d have been out there a few weeks ago, but the trade changed our plans.
Of course, I was there for the holidays. But leaving and knowing I wouldn’t be back for a couple of months hurt.
We might only share our father’s DNA, but they’re my brothers, and I’d do anything for them. I just wish it could be more.
“I need to speak to Dad and make arrangements.”
“We need to be there. I want to see you in person wearing a Vipers jersey.”
“I know, man. We’ll make it happen, I promise.” But even as I say the words, doubt sits heavy in my gut.
If Dad says no, which he’s done before, then Huxley and Ryker won’t stand a chance. It’s almost a three-hour drive to the arena in Detroit. It’ll mean leaving school early and getting back very late. They’ve done it before. But Dad hasn’t exactly been amenable since my trade. He’s convinced that I had to have done something wrong for it to happen, and like fuck am I telling him that he’s right. The less he knows about my life, the better.
“How’s Ryker doing?” I ask.
The heavy sigh that comes down the line makes my chest tighten.
While Huxley is super outgoing, has a great group of friends, and is successful both at school and on the ice, Ryker is…well, other than the hockey skills, pretty much his complete opposite.
He doesn’t talk much, and I’m fully aware as to why. It keeps me up at night knowing that he’s suffering, that he isn’t getting the support he needs. But as much as I want to help, I can’t.
“He’s okay,” Hux finally says, guilt lacing his voice.
All he wants to do is help as well. He wants to see his little brother happy, but he’s even more powerless than I am.
“What aren’t you telling me, Hux?”
“Dad…” My heart sinks just at the mention of his name. “He went off on Ryk the other day. He’s barely said a word since.”
“What was he shouting about?” I ask hesitantly.
“He missed an open goal.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, dragging my hand down my face.
“It was bullshit. He—”
“Huxley,” I warn.
“Sorry, but it was. Ryk had, like, two seconds to shoot before getting flattened by our opponent’s D-man. We lost the game. So what? It’s not like it was the championship game or anything. We’re still top of our league.”
“I’m so proud of you both, you know that, right?”
“Yeah. You tell us every time you call.” But despite his insistence that he knows, I hear the smile in his voice.
“You’re killing it out there.”
“Maybe one day, I’ll be as good as you and Dad.”
