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Muffled sounds fill my ears as I try to make sense of where I am. I’m not wet or freezing, so I’m definitely not lying on the ice of the arena. It’s way too quiet for that. My eyes feel like there are weights hanging off my eyelashes as I struggle to force them to open. After a few failed attempts, I pry my eyes open, but immediately slam them shut again. White orbs flash behind my eyelids as blinding pain shoots through my head.

Another concussion. Fuck me.

I keep my eyes clamped shut, waiting for the pain to ease as I inhale deeply. The smell of antiseptic fills my nostrils, further confirming that I am, in fact, in the hospital. As if the overhead fluorescent lights and the soft beeping to my left weren’t enough of a clue.

Hospitals are no fun any day, and this isn’t my first concussion this season. In fact, if I remember correctly, it’s my fourth. I enjoy having normal brain functions, but the last thing I need right now is extended time off the ice. This will give management the perfect excuse they’ve been looking for to get rid of me.

I slowly open my eyes, wincing slightly at the bright overhead lights as I try to remember what happened after I lost the game. Slowly, memories from what happened filter through my mind. That motherfucker Leon sucker punched me on the side of the head. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that’s the cause of my concussion and the reason for my being here.

Not only did I get my clock rocked by my teammate, but I must have blacked out. I can’t remember anything after being sucker punched. I try harder to focus on what happened, but all this damn thinking is just making the pain in my head almost unbearable. Either way, it won’t change anything.

I try to lift my head off the bed to get a good look at my surroundings, but immediately regret that decision. My stomach rolls as bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. My eyes clench tightly shut as I inhale deeply through my nose before letting it out slowly, willing my body to keep the contents of my stomach inside my body.

I will not puke. I will not puke. I will not puke.

After a few minutes, my stomach settles. Instead of lifting my head, I turn it slowly to the side. My eyes take a moment to adjust, but I notice the last person I want to see right now. Cooper. His attention is focused out the window, his eyebrows pulled down in worry about something. Not about me. Never about anyone besides himself.

Looking at my oldest brother is like looking in a mirror, and I fucking hate it. Not only am I compared to him on the ice, but I have to see him staring back at me every time I look in the mirror. Too bad we aren’t anything alike. My hair is slightly darker than his, but we have matching scars above our left eyebrows from when we tried and failed to teach Kyle how to pull off the perfect slap shot. Instead of brown eyes like our mother, I have hazel colored eyes like our father. Either way, he looks like shit. I doubt he even showered since coming here from the arena after the game.

My eyes scan him, looking for any part of his body that I can find lacking. Not in that kind of way. He’s my brother, for Christ’s sake, but I know deep in my soul that I’m not a better hockey player than him, but maybe there’s something else. Cooper bows his head, and I notice his lips moving slightly, as if he’s praying, and a woman's slender golden-brown arm slides across his shoulder, pulling him toward her.

My focus was solely on my brother, so I didn’t notice there was anyone else in the room besides him. Cooper drops his forehead onto her stomach, burying his nose into her skin as he slides forward in the seat, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him between his legs. She doesn’t say a word, just runs her fingers through his hair, staring down at him, her face full of concern.

I know I’ve seen her in pictures with Cooper over the last few months, but I can’t seem to put a name to the face. She can’t be much taller than 5’4”, if that. Her hair hangs around her shoulders, twisted into long locks that look more like braids. There are golden clasps affixed to a few of them, placed strategically throughout her hair to draw in someone’s attention. I should probably look away, but I can’t stop my eyes from continuing their way down her body. Her compact form is engulfed in an oversized green-and-white flannel shirt with a white top beneath it, hanging loosely around her hips. She’s wearing tight-fitted blue jeans, tucked into brown knee-high riding boots.

I can’t help but feel like I know her from somewhere, but I can’t seem to put my finger on it. Maybe she’s someone we went to high school with? I know Cooper was coaching a peewee hockey team back in Redwood Falls while rehabbing his knee. Probably nothing more than a publicity stunt to bring in more money to the franchise, but Momma was happier than a pig in shit to have him home more. Could she be one of his players' parents? No, that’s not possible. Cooper would never fall for a player's mother. He’s way too by the book for that. I narrow my eyes, trying to place the woman, but still come up empty. This is making my head hurt.

Neither one of them says a word as Cooper melts into her embrace, his entire body relaxing at her calming touch. I want to ask them what they’re doing here, but I know the answer. Cooper wants to lecture me, give me pointers on how he would’ve done things if he were in the position of scoring the winning goal that would send his team to the Stanley Cup Championship. Too bad for them, that's the last thing I want to hear.

I got in a little kerfuffle on the ice with Leon, and we lost the game, but that doesn’t warrant either of them standing vigil over me. There isn’t a damn thing Cooper or anyone else can do to change the outcome of the game. He should be out celebrating with his team, not staring out the window of my hospital room with fake concern. I have a concussion and can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years. Cooper’s concern for my well-being is a little too late in my mind.

Just as I open my mouth to ask Cooper why he’s here, a loud pinging noise fills the room, causing me to wince. Sound sensitivity is a damn bitch when you have a concussion. The woman pulls a cell phone out of her pocket, swiping to open it before staring down at something on the screen. Her calm face quickly turns into one of pure horror as she flicks her eyes toward Cooper before looking down at the phone a second time.

“Show me,” Cooper whispers, his forehead still resting against her stomach.

“I don’t think this is—” she begins to respond, but he cuts her off, releasing his hold around her waist and holding out his hand.

“Whether it’s right now or later, either way, I’m going to see it.”

The woman’s eyes shift back and forth between Cooper’s face and the phone before sighing heavily. “Are you going to remain calm?”

“I can’t promise you that, but I’ll try.”

She looks at him for a few moments before handing over the phone. Cooper stares down at the screen. His eyes quickly scan the screen before throwing it across the room. It crashes against something to my right before shattering and smashing to the floor. I try to turn my head toward the noise, but the blinding paint halts my movements. Okay, maybe this isn’t the run-of-the-mill concussion I thought it was. This. Is. Not. Good. Not good at all.

The woman reaches for Cooper, but he waves her off, her arms dropping to her side as she takes a step back. “Take a deep breath, Cooper. The last thing Cole needs when he wakes up is you on a rampage.”

“If he ever wakes up.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she snaps at him, her annoyance with his doom-and-gloom attitude in his voice. “The doctors said Cole will be fine, but he has a long road ahead of him to recover.”

Recovery? What the hell happened after Leon knocked me out? I’m pretty sure I blacked out since I can’t remember much of anything after being punched, but I’m not the first person who's been sucker punched on the ice and lost consciousness, and I probably won’t be the last. Maybe I should be a little more concerned about what happened than I originally thought. My stomach turns, threatening to empty its contents on the nearest surface again. Nope. Not fucking happening.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“Is Cooper spiraling again?” The familiar sound of Alise’s voice reaches my ears, and I slowly turn my head forward.

After blinking a few times, Alise comes into view. Her once-long, curly hair is styled in a large afro. Not the style I would’ve picked for her, but I dig it. Not that I’ll ever tell her that. She has on her favorite accessory, a pair of Beats headphones around her neck that she uses to block out the world, a grey oversized sweatshirt, and a pair of black leggings that disappear into a pair of brown boots with grayish-colored fur surrounding her calf.

There are more than enough sounds in the hospital, beeping machines and voices filling the air, that carry the potential of triggering her sensory issues. Ever since we were kids, we knew Alise had ?sensory processing disorder, or SPD for short, meaning she has a hard time processing things that are going on around her—smells, sounds, and sometimes even textures. My brothers and I always thought she’d grow out of it when she was older, but the headphones hanging around her neck is an indicator she hasn’t. Either way, I have a feeling that nothing has changed with Alise. She is who she is, and Alise has never once apologized for it to anyone, and I, for one, wouldn’t have her any other way.

I feel a sharp pain in my chest, remembering that I don’t know any of these people anymore. When I left home at seventeen without a backward glance, I left everyone behind, except for Momma. I should be alone in this room, no one here fussing over me or waiting to find out if I’m okay, but they’re all here, waiting for me to wake up.

“What the fuck was that for, Alise?” Cooper rubs the back of his head where she smacked him, jumping to his feet and glaring down at her.

“Ramona loves you too much to knock some sense into your dumb ass,” she quips, wrapping her arms around the woman who was here with Cooper when I woke up, and planting a wet kiss on her cheek.

A laugh bubbles up my throat, but I swallow it down. I’m not ready for them to know I’m awake. I prefer to hear what people are really thinking, and the best way to do that is when no one knows you’re paying attention. It’s how I discovered my team and management's true feelings about me. They loved me when I was winning for them, but the minute I didn't bring them what they wanted, I was expendable.

“She’s not wrong.” Ramona giggles, giving Alise a quick squeeze before dropping into an empty seat beside her, quickly followed by Alise plopping onto her lap. “Cooper, sit down before you give yourself a heart attack.”

“Yes, Mom ,” Cooper growls, plopping down into the seat and turning to face the window again. His entire body vibrates in the seat, his knee bouncing up and down in annoyance. “I’m going to make him pay for what he did to Cole. I don’t give a shit how sorry he is, Beauty. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him right there on the ice.”

“You and me both.” Beau strolls into the room, coming to a stop directly in front of Cooper. Those two stare at each other, having a silent conversation like they always did when we were younger. Those two have a bond with each other, different from the rest of us in the family. Something I longed for when I was younger, but now I see it for what it truly is.

Beau smirks slightly, squeezing Cooper’s shoulder before giving Alise a noogie and bending to plant a kiss on the top of Ramona’s head. “At least he won’t be setting foot on the ice again anytime soon.”

“The news report also said he was being charged with criminal assault.”

I’m assuming the “he” they’re referring to is Leon. I wish I could feel sorry for him, but I can’t even muster enough energy to care. Sucker punching someone is one thing, but ruining your teammate’s career is another. If things are as bad for me as Cooper alluded to, I can kiss any chance of playing hockey again anytime soon out the window. Who does Leon fucking think he is?

Todd Bertuzzi almost lost his entire career for doing something similar to another player a little over ten years ago, but this is worse. I wasn’t a player on another team he had beef with. I was his own teammate. Leon is supposed to be someone I could trust to have my back when shit hits the fan on the ice, instead he was the one that I should’ve watching out for.

“Good. He should be thrown in jail for what he did,” Ramona chimes in, shoving Alise off her lap before pushing to her feet and plopping down on Cooper’s.

“He should, but we all know that won’t happen. He’ll probably get community service and probation.” Alise takes the now-empty seat, her eyes locking with mine as the corner of her mouth pulls upward. “Hopefully, they at least don’t allow him back on the ice.”

For a group of people who are supposed to be focused on how I’m doing, Alise is the only one who has bothered to even look in my direction. I’d shake my head in disgust if I could, but I have no desire to vomit again. Instead, I bring my finger to my lips, signaling for her to keep quiet, and she winks.

We used to love listening in on everyone’s conversation, finding out their deepest secrets. We never used them for anything, but there’s nothing wrong with knowing things about those around you. Everyone would call us the nosy twins back then. We never meant any harm. Alise and I just saw it as a way to always know what the grown-ups and my older brothers were doing. A way for us to weasel our way into their plans when Cooper and Beau went out of their way to keep us from tagging along.

Even now, I listen quietly to those around me. Always ready for the whispers and secrets they speak into existence when they think no one is listening, because knowledge is power. The more you know about those around you, the easier it is to use that information to your advantage. Okay, that last part is a lesson I learned the hard way, but it's still applicable.

“Know anyone connected?” Beau asks, causing all of them to laugh loudly.

Leave it to Beau to diffuse a tense situation. I take a moment to look at my older brother. We’ve kept in touch since I left home, much to my chagrin. I skirted his calls and texts for a few months, but when he showed up in Boise, demanding to see me during one of our practices, I had no other choice. He’s been a pain in my ass ever since, forcing me to have dinner together when we are in the same place, as well as weekly phone calls. Not to mention all the random texts he likes to send me that I rarely ever open. I wish Beau would understand that all I wanted when I left Redwood Falls was a clean slate. Too bad for me, I got nothing of the sort.

My jaw clenches tightly shut as memories filter through my mind like a movie reel. I thought I was making a name for myself, carving a path through the world that had nothing to do with anything but my hard work. I was delusional to believe that I could be given anything based on the merit of my actions. The only thing any of them have ever cared about is my last name getting closer to Cooper and Beau.

The sound of Alise’s snarky retort brings me back to the present. “No, but I might know a guy who knows a guy.”

“Smartass,” Beau responds, causing everyone, including me, to chuckle softly.

You’d think, being the last one to arrive, Beau wouldn’t look so worse for wear. Instead, he looks just as bad, if not worse, than our older brother, but at least he looks like he’s showered recently. Beau is a walking Nike ad, with his hair tucked underneath a backward baseball cap, a large black Nike sweatshirt, and matching sweatpants and sneakers to finish the look.

Alise smiles at him before whispering softly, “You love me.”

Her entire body freezes as her eyes widen in surprise. Now I can’t be the only one in this room who knows how these two felt about each other when we were younger. Judging by the look of terror in her eyes as she looks at him, I have a feeling that those feelings haven’t changed much since I left home.

Alise and Beau stare at each other, the tension thick between them, before he looks away and changes the subject. “How’s our boy doing, anyway?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Alise motions toward my bed as everyone’s attention snaps in my direction.

“How are you doing, Cole?” Beau asks, turning toward me.

To anyone else, he looks the picture of ease as he takes a seat on the small windowsill, crossing his ankles. But I know better. I can see the muscles in his arms straining as he opens and closes his hands into fists, his eyes quickly shifting between me and Alise.

I know that look. It isn’t the first time he’s looked at me like that. Beau is waiting for me to lose my temper. To lash out at everyone around me because that’s been my normal for the last few years. It’s why I can’t be near them. Why I can’t spend more than a few hours with my mom when I’m in town for a game. The anger at what they’ve done, what they took away from me, is all-consuming.

“I’ve been better, but I’d really like to know what the fuck you’re all doing here,” I growl, wanting to take the words back, but knowing I can’t because I mean every word.

I hate that I can't find it in me to be elated that my family is here for me when I need them, even though I’ve spent years pushing them all away. When our father died, I lost the only one in our family who gave a shit about me. Cooper was the perfect son, Beau was his shadow, and Kyle was the baby. But I had no special place. To them, I was nothing but a nuisance. The afterthought, the forgotten child to everyone but Dad.

I’m not saying there wasn’t love. We had more than enough love in our house to go around. I know my family loved me and each other deeply, but with Dad, it was different. He saw me. I know it sounds strange, but for the life of me, I can’t think of any other way to explain it. Dad always took the time to ask me how I felt about things. He wanted my opinion when we? had to make a family decision, and never pushed me to do anything if I said no. With Dad, I was a person, not just my older brothers’ accessory. And the moment he was gone, everything, and I mean everything, was different.

I spent years in that house, a shadow of myself. Suffocating on all the lies that they told me, hiding behind their need to “ protect me ” or the common phrase “ I’d understand when I was older ,” and I believed them. They were my family, after all. They should’ve had my best interests at heart, but all those years, they were just covering their asses. Hiding the truth about what really happened that day and how my father was taken away from me. And for that, I can’t find it in me to forgive them.

“We care about you, Cole.” Cooper wraps his arm tightly around Ramona, pushing to his feet to come toward me, but Beau grips his shoulder and shakes his head.

“You don’t need to perform for anyone today, Cooper. We all know you aren’t here out of the kindness of your heart.” I scoff. “Where are the cameras? Let’s get this fucking photo op out of the way so I can get back to sleep. My head is fucking killing me.”

“Do you need me to go get a nurse?” Ramona whispers, her eyes flicking to Cooper before turning her attention back to me.

“No, thank you. What I need is to know what my lovely brothers want.”