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Colleen pays him no attention. She gives me a quick once-over. “I can trust you to feed him though. I told him he’s far too skinny. I don’t like what they’re doing to him.”

Alex’s face turns red. “Christ. Really?”

I’m not offended by it. “My mom used to say you can never trust a skinny chef.”

Colleen nods. “Your mother sounds like a smart woman. Maybe we can plan a big group dinner sometime!”

Alex cusses under his breath. “Let’s go before you start planning a wedding too. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

The comment makes me flinch, but I manage to hide it as well as I can. But not before Alex sees, frowning as soon as he realizes what he said.

As we head out the door, he pulls me aside and quietly says, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

I shrug off his touch. “We should go. Your mom seems hungry.”

*

The family-owned restaurantis small and filled with the scents of coffee, homemade sauce, and something sweet. We get a booth in the back dining hall, away from the other customers who stopped what they were doing to watch Alex as we walked in.

One thing he’s always had is a presence. At Lindon, everyone knew he was in the room. He was like Moses parting the Red Sea at parties. If a room was packed, they’d make room for him. Girls. Guys. It didn’t matter.

That clearly hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s heightened now that he’s on TV screens at bars and homes everywhere. Especially since his injury. The news has stopped talking about it to focus on how preseason is going for teams, but his assault made headlines worldwide.

“Communication seems like a broad area of study,” Colleen remarks, sipping her water. “Is there anything you want to focus on? My Alex always knew what his path would be, but he still managed to narrow down his focus to Sports Management.”

I knew that. He figured if an NHL career didn’t work out for him, he could try for the minors or apply for coaching or management positions somewhere. “I’m interested in Digital Journalism, but I’ve thought about Esports Journalism or even trying to get an in with magazines to do features. That requires internships, though, and most of those are unpaid.”

“I’m sure Alex could help you,” she says casually. “He speaks to reporters all the time. Right, honey? You have connections.”

I wince. “He doesn’t need to do that. I was raised to work hard for everything I get anyway. I’m not a fan of asking for help.”

“Plus, her brother is a player for the Rangers,” Alex points out, gripping his sweet tea that he hasn’t touched since he got it. “If she needs connections, he’ll have plenty.”

It feels like he’s handing me off to my brother, which rubs me the wrong way. “You’re not wrong,” I grit out, forcing a smile. “But, like I said, we were raised to work our asses off for everything. I don’t want his help. Or yours. I don’t need it.”

Well, that part isn’t true. I definitely need help. But I’m too proud to ask for it. Too afraid to depend on other people to make something of myself.

“I know you don’t,” he says, this time his tone softer. “I didn’t mean it to come off that way. I’m just saying you’d let Sebastian help you long before you ever let me. You’re close.”

It’s hard to argue with him. Me and Sebastian have always been that way. And even when it pains me whenever my big brother gives me money or does things for my car or surprises me with gifts that I know cost a pretty penny, I’m grateful for him. We didn’t have a lot growing up, so he wanted to make sure we wanted for nothing now.

“I think that’s sweet,” his mother chimes in. “It’s important to be close to family. You never know what’s going to happen to them.”

Alex’s shoulders tense. “Not here,” he says quietly. “Olive doesn’t need to hear it.”

Hear what?

Colleen doesn’t make me ask. “I miss your father every day. I know you do too. There’s nothing wrong with talking about it, Alexander. My therapist told me instead of avoiding the hard topics, I should embrace them.”

“So now you listen to your therapist?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Funny. When I’ve told you that in the past, you haven’t listened.”

I can feel the tension rising between Alex and his mother, so I decide to cut it. “Not that this is the same, but my father and I aren’t very close. I only see him once, maybe twice a year, and speak to him only a handful of times. The rest of my family is close, but we’ve never had that bond.”

My father left me one message since I walked out of his house. It was a half-assed apology that felt forced at best, so I didn’t bother calling him back to accept it. He’s clueless when it comes to what he says or why it hurts, so it isn’t like he meant it or cares if I forgive him or not.

“Not Alex,” Colleen tells me, breaking me from my thoughts. “He spent so much time with his daddy, it was obvious who the favorite was. Scott would take him to games, practice, the batting cages. I swear the man was trying to buy his love.”

“That isn’t what he was doing,” Alex disagrees. “He loved sports too. You know that. He was coaching Little League and the junior varsity team. I never had favorites. He and I just had more in common.”