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“You are,” he confirms after a little bit of rustling down the line.

“Hey, Ryker,” I say as softly as I can. “Hux said you had another nightmare.”

It’s impossible to miss the sound of his increased breathing. It makes my chest compress.

He’s had therapy but not enough. Dad decided one day that it wasn’t helping him and canceled his future sessions, saying that he just needed to man up and get over it.

I shake my head at the memory.

That might have been how he was brought up, but that doesn’t mean it’s right. In fact, I firmly believe that he’s wrong about many, many things.

Ryker doesn’t say anything—not that I expect him to. So instead, I just talk, hoping like hell that the sound of my voice helps to drag him from his memories.

I talk to him about our last game. About going out tonight for Fletch’s birthday. Of course, I flower it up a little instead of telling them that I sat in a booth alone, watching a man I can’t get out of my head until he finally followed me out.

Regrets slam into me as I think about what happened only a few moments ago. But it’s too late to second-guess it now.

He’s leaving, and it’s for the best.

I tell them about our upcoming games. Stats and division standings and our hopes for the post-season. I talk until my throat is dry and sore, but eventually, Ryker’s panicked breathing slows.

“Coop,” Huxley whispers eventually. “He’s asleep.”

My shoulders slump in relief, and I fall back onto my guest bed.

“You should go and do the same thing,” I tell Hux. He might be Ryker’s big brother, but there aren’t even two years between them. He’s still a kid as well, and he doesn’t deserve to be dealing with all this. Not when our father is in the house. He should be the one comforting his son, but I don’t think he’s even heard that there’s an issue. Selfish cunt.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to now,” he confesses quickly.

I hear him moving on the other end before a door closes, as I assume he returns to his own bedroom.

“I just wish I could make the nightmares go away. I wish I were the one who saw it all,” he says quietly.

“I know, bud. I wish I could help too.”

“You do. He calms down whenever he hears your voice.”

My mind immediately goes to what it would be like if I moved them out here with me.

The house is big enough. And if I’m being honest, they are the reason I bought it.

It’s been an idea I’ve toyed with on and off over the years. But it always comes back to one issue.

Our father.

He would never let them go, even if it were in their best interests.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop?” he asks, fear in his voice that I might say no.

“I don’t know, Hux. Trauma affects everyone differently. Maybe tonight will be his last one. Maybe it won’t.”

“He deserves better than all this.”

I mutter my agreement as emotion crawls up my throat.

“I’m sorry I called in the middle of the night,” he says after a moment of silence between us.

“Never apologize for needing me. I will always be here for you. You know that, don’t you?”