Page 6 of Two Guys One Puck (Gods Versus Monsters Hockey #2)

SIX

SEABORN

M ost of the summer is spent training and working odd jobs for my uncle’s company. Construction is a kind of training in itself. The days are long and hot, but it’s a team, and it helped me learn different ways to work with other guys long before I played college hockey.

“I’m going to need off the second week in July.” I don’t want to have this conversation with my uncle, but I know I have to.

“Why?” He looks up from his computer, deep frown lines forming in his brows. He’s aged a lot in the last four years. With everything that’s going on with my dad, I don’t blame him.

“I got invited to a development camp with the Dragons.”

The Dragons are New York’s NHL team, and the invite feels like a fever dream.

“What?” Uncle Garret rubs his forehead with two fingers. “You know July is our busiest month.”

“I know…” What do I even say to that? Everyone in the family thinks me playing for the NHL is a pipe dream for children, and I know why they feel that way, but it’s not the same for me as it was for them. I have a real shot. “But I can’t say no.”

“How much is that gonna cost you?”

I wince. “It’s only a week. I’m going to come home at night after the three days.

” I feel like a fucking child stumbling over my words, trying to explain my decisions to him.

But I’m twenty-one years old. I shouldn’t have to explain myself.

But I do because I can’t afford to lose this job.

Not that I really think my uncle would ever fire me, but I’m not willing to risk it.

“You’re going to commute hours every day? When are you going to sleep?” He’s never worried about my sleep before with the hours he works his crews.

“Won’t be much different than what I’m already doing on the job site at five in the morning.” I throw back.

Talking to Garret is a balancing act between not backing down and giving him respect.

“Do you really want to do this? You know how far your dad got before his injury, and I just don’t want you to waste your time…” He trails off, searching my face.

“I’m not my dad, and development camps are a great way to build relationships with teams. Plus, I can learn skills that will make me better for the upcoming season.

Not only that—they’ll give me a taste of how pro hockey is.

Not every team does them and not all of them are the same, but if I want to get drafted next year, I have to take every opportunity to make that happen. ”

He must see the determination on my face. “Can you afford to live without your wages for a week?”

“I’ll figure it out.” I’ll skip meals the week after or something.

He shakes his head, going back to his screen.

I take that as approval and dismissal, slipping out of his office before he can say anything else.

I sit on the train and pull up Ktytor’s snap chat. He probably can see me watching his stories but I don’t care. Or I’m telling myself I don’t. I haven’t heard a single word from him since that night. Not even when they won their next game. I expected him to rub it in my face, but silence.

The place is a mess when I get home. It’s getting harder and harder for Dad to even stand up, and my brothers are fucking slobs.

“Does nobody fucking clean up after themselves?” I collect dishes as I make my way to the kitchen, arms full by the time I get to the sink.

But there’s no room in the sink because, of course, Zeph didn’t do the last lot.

“Zeph?” I call but get no response.

“He probably has his headphones on.” My dad sits in his recliner with legs up and a light blanket over them. He’s a fraction of the man he used to be. Thin and gaunt, his cheekbones hollowed, and the big, broad shoulders he used to have are skin and bone now.

“When was the last time someone got you up and took you to the bathroom?” I cross the kitchen, surveying the scene. He’s got fresh water, at least, which means my brother probably gave him his evening pills.

“Been about an hour since Zeph got home. I’m okay.”

“Sure?” I pick up his dishes. “Do you need to be turned?” I try to do as much as I can during the summer, between working and staying in shape, because of how little I can be here to help during the season.

“I’m sure. Your aunt brought over groceries. You should make yourself some dinner.”

“She shouldn’t be doing that.”

“I know, but I can’t stop her. Emily does what she wants.

” He’s right about that. His sister always took care of her brothers, but the burden increases every year between Garret’s wife dying so suddenly last year and Dad’s MS. We don’t need to break her, too.

She’s the only one keeping things together with the business and my youngest brother while Otto and I are at school.

“She needs a damn vacation.” I carry the dishes back into the kitchen and find a place for them on the crowded counter.

“You try to tell her that.”

“Tell me what?” Emily asks, coming out of the bathroom.

“You could have fucking warned me she was here!” I scoff, opening my arms to give her a hug.

She wraps her tiny self around me. “And stop you from talking shit? You should know better.” She’s more like a sister to me than an aunt because she’s only ten years older than I am.

She moved in after our mother died and got us through a lot.

She’s basically Zeph’s mom since he doesn’t remember ours.

“It’s not shit if it’s true.” I release her and turn to try and make a dent in the dishes so I can have some room to cook. “When are you going to take time for yourself?”

“Who’s got the time? I’m still not through all the work that piled up after Aunt Linda…” She doesn’t have to say it.

Shit has been real hard since Garrett lost his wife.

She did all the books for my uncle’s business and kept everything running.

No one’s done well in her absence. All made worse by my dad being unable to work anymore.

He did for as long as he could, but eighteen months ago, he got a really bad flair, and even though he’s back in remission, he hasn’t been the same.

“I’m going to make you take one one of these days.” After next year. If I can secure a good contract and a big payout, I can make everyone’s lives easier.

We all just have to hold out a little bit longer. I pray they can.

“When are you going to take a break?” She purses her lips but grabs a towel and comes over to take the dishes after I wash them.

I lift my shoulders. “When I’m dead.”

“That comes sooner than you think,” my dad calls from the den.

“Your fucking morbid ass humor,” Emily says through a laugh.

I roll my eyes at the both of them. “Did he eat?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. I thought about doing some spaghetti.”

“I can make some up when we’re done with this.”

“I can help.” She does the last of the dishes while I take inventory of the groceries she brought. “You’re going to spoil Zeph. Pop? We’ve never had pop in the house.”

“With all the overtime I’m working, someone should enjoy it.”

“His coach isn’t gonna like it.” I get the ground beef going, and she adds spices over my shoulder. The fucking micro-managing in this family.

“What isn’t my coach going to like?” Zeph asks, coming out of his room with one ear off his headphones.

“All this fucking sugar Aunt Emily brought you.” I dice tomatoes and onions.

Zeph comes over to sit on the newly cleaned counter. “As long as I play, he won’t care.”

Otto and I are good at hockey, but Zeph is like a savant. He’s better than both of us. He’s probably the one my dad and uncle think will actually play in the NHL because he’s a center. It’s harder to get noticed when I’m not the one scoring the goals.

“You didn’t even do the dishes. You don’t deserve Emily bringing you treats.” I shoot him a glare, but he knows I’m not being mean.

“Sorry. I forgot.” He jumps off the counter, going to the fridge to get one of the contraband sodas.

“And it’s Dr. Pepper, of all things.” I fake a gag, then take the diced tomatoes and put them in another pot with tomato paste and the rest of the ingredients.

Once all that is going, I resist the pop calling my name and get water.

After all day in the heat, I know my body needs it, and I have to stay in top form so I don’t make an ass of myself at the camp. Which reminds me. “Hey, Em?”

“Yes?” she says, looking up from her phone.

“Can you help out July ninth through thirteenth so I can be in the city?”

“Yeah, why? What’s going on?” She clicks her phone off and slides it into her pocket.

“I got an invitation to the Dragon’s developmental camp, and I need to go.”

“Seriously?” Dad calls from the den while Zeph and Emily stare at me.

I nod, not making eye contact with any of them. “Yep. I’ll be home some of the nights since they can only pay for the hotel for three—NCAA rules and whatnot.”

“You’re not staying the rest of the nights?” Emily asks.

I shake my head. “Hotels at Manhattan prices? Are you crazy?”

She nods. “You’re right. In the middle of tourist season, that’s impossible.”

No one has an extra grand lying around. Not with how expensive Dad’s medicine has gotten and Zeph’s club fees.

Even with the extra work Uncle Garrett can take on with Otto and me working for the summer, it never seems to be enough.

Emily helping with the office stuff frees him up some, but with the economy, jobs are fewer, and keeping good labor with everything going on is rough. It’s just a mess.

“It’s fine. I’ll deal.” We live far enough out of the city to make it possible but still a major headache. No one has time for a two-hour commute one way, but I can’t miss camp.

The long days make the two weeks fly by, and I’m ready for a break. Hockey will make a nice change of pace. This week might actually be easy.

That is until I walk in on Monday morning and see Ktytor sitting front and center.

Fuck.