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“Gemma was like that,” he tells me softly.

“She had separation anxiety from her mother. But after the accident…” He’s quiet for a second.

“After the accident, she wouldn’t stop crying and making a fuss at her grandparents’ house.

She’d make herself sick from it. They helped her get past things by the time they let me into her life, so I didn’t see it firsthand, but they told me it was rough for a while. ”

It makes sense. Skylar always says that he follows her around every chance he can. Her professors have let her take him to class as long as he behaves, which he usually does when he’s with her. On the days she can’t bring him, DJ stays with him at home since their schedules are different.

“This might sound weird but hold up a picture of his mom and dad to him. See if he reacts.”

I search the living room and find a framed photo of Skylar and DJ from the maternity shoot they did. They’re both beaming into the camera as DJ holds onto Skylar’s baby bump dressed in a cute white and yellow sundress in the middle of a field somewhere outside of Lindon.

When I show Bentley the photo of him, his cries soften.

“Oh my God,” I whisper in awe. He reaches out and holds onto the frame, staring at the picture before the tiniest smile appears on his face. “Seriously, kid? You were acting like a demon possessed you all because you miss your parents?”

Bodhi starts laughing, and I wish he could see me scowl. “It’s not funny! I thought something was wrong. I promised my best friend that he’d be fine and almost as soon as she left he was a mess. I should have guessed it was this.”

He sobers up enough to reassure me. “You had no way of knowing. That’s the tough thing about kids when they’re that young. They can’t tell you what’s wrong. I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”

Bentley whacks the frame against the television remote and flips the channel, putting it back onto ESPN. Just as I’m about to answer Bodhi, my eyes widen at what the anchors are talking about on the news.

“Alexander O’Conner, a left wing for the Pittsburgh Penguins was assaulted last night outside of Belle’s Place in Pennsylvania,” she reports calmly to the camera.

“A rep for O’Conner says he was discharged from the hospital early this morning with minor injuries that will require him to sit out for the remainder of the preseason games. ”

“Oh my God.”

“Olive?”

“I…” I let out a breath. “I need to call him.”

“Call him?”

“I need to call Alex,” I say, forgetting I’m on the phone with Bodhi.

The man who helped me seconds ago is quiet momentarily. “Alex O’Conner?” he asks.

I swallow. “Yes.”

“Alex. As in your brother’s old teammate.” Realization strikes him. “He’s the one you’ve been texting. I knew he played with your brother at Lindon, but I didn’t know…” He didn’t know that I cared about him.

Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Please don’t say anything to my brother. He doesn’t know that Alex and I are involved. Were. I… I don’t know. The point is, he doesn’t know that I still…” Care. I can’t say it.

But I do still care. I’m mad that I give a shit. I’m angry that he’s always on the back of my mind even when he shouldn’t be. I hate that he’s willing to give me space and answer my calls and send me dirty texts and sex toys. And I hate even more that I let him keep doing those things.

“I don’t want Sebastian to know. If he’s allowed to keep secrets about who he’s with, so am I.”

Bentley is preoccupied drooling all over the corner of the frame of his parents that I’ll have to remember to clean before they get home, all while ESPN talks about the suspect who was caught and arrested after using Alex’s credit card at a convenience store for cigarettes and booze blocks away from where he assaulted him.

“This thing with you and O’Conner,” Bodhi begins. “Is it…serious?”

Wetting my lips, I stare down at the wiggly little boy sprawled on the couch cushions. “I don’t know, if I’m being honest. No? Maybe? There’s history there. You know what having history is like. It’s hard to forget that sometimes. You said you can relate because of Gemma’s mother.”

He clears his throat. “I did. Yeah.”

It doesn’t sound convincing to either of us. “So?”

Bodhi sighs. “I won’t say anything to your brother. But if this is going to be a thing, he’ll find out one way or another. And I have a feeling he won’t like that. I think it’d be better if you said something before it comes out another way.”

That’s logical, but I’m not sure I want to go there. Not yet. At least not until I figure out what there is to tell. Why bring something up to Sebastian if it’s in the past? If there’s nothing to talk about in the future? “Thank you, Bodhi. For helping with Bentley and…this.”

This. Whatever this is.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, disconnecting before I can.

I frown at the phone and internally sigh.

Why do I feel bad for being honest with him?

It’s better than lying. But that guilt quickly gets buried by the reminder of Alex’s situation when a paparazzi shot taken from outside the hospital appears on screen.

There’s a bloody rag pressed against the back of Alex’s head as he’s ushered inside by two people.

I recognize one as the captain of his team; Jesse Clarkson.

I don’t know who the girl is on the right.

But whoever she is, she’s pretty. Like, really pretty.

Cement settles into my gut, right next to a familiar green monster that pokes at my heart with one of its invisible talons until it deflates.

Instead of calling Alex, I stare at that picture a little longer before pulling his name up and sending him a simple text.

Nonchalant.

And definitely not something my brother needs to know.