Page 2

chapter two

can you ever fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed?

I didn’t even remember walking up the porch steps. As though I'd blinked and bam, here I was, like I'd just come out of a dream. My boots were caked in mud, so I kicked them off and thudded them against the doorframe out of habit. Lined them up next to Grandpa’s like nothing had changed. Like I hadn’t just seen—

His gruff voice broke through the screen door, taking the reigns on my thoughts. No doubt he was deep into another Quebec Knights tale, probably holding an invisible stick and reenacting plays for an audience of one—Daisy. Crickets chirped outside like background noise, and the chickens weren’t even pretending to care.

I’d bet my student allowance that it was the ‘84 Stanley Cup playoff story. It always was.

My footsteps echoed in the entryway, and I followed the giggles that I knew werecoming from Daisy, where, sure enough, I found her blue-jean-covered legs dangling off the kitchen counter, and Grandpa leant back against the worktop.

I rushed up behind her, clearing my throat. “Weirdestthing, I think I just saw—”

“Shhh!” Her arms flailed and her uneven curls went wild as she faced me.“You’re interrupting the best part.”

My eye roll brough me back down to earth. “We’ve heardthis story eight thousand times.”

“You don’t even know which one it is.” Shehuffed.

I eyed her, before nodding my chin. “Twentybucks that it’s the 84 playoffs one.” The way she bit her cheek was all I needed to know I was right. “Hand it over.”

“You’re such a boy.” She huffed again, reaching into her back pocket and handing me a crumpled twenty dollar bill. “And whocares, I want to listen to it again, so, goodbye.” She waved me off with a sarcastic smile, before turning away from me. “Sorry, Grandpa. You were down to the last thirty seconds andddd… ”

“Andddd,” Grandpa drawled, and even though Iknew what he was about to say, I dropped the groceries on the worktop and rested my elbows down next to Daisy, propping my chin up with my cupped hands. “I get subbed on to cover Dubois, cause the boy could have passed for a scaredy cat when it came to shadowing, and then I get the puck, stick lift one of the Grizzlies defensemen, while I still have the puck I might add , and bolt down the ice before I can even take a breath.”

Like he remembered that he’d barely breathedwhilst recounting that, he took a second to catch his breath, and when I saw him go to take a sip from his mug, I tapped Daisy’s shoulder, lowering my voice. “Dais, I need to talk to you about—”

“Shut up , you’re gonna miss the best part.” Sheflapped her hands in my direction.

I pulled one of her curls. She pushed my shoulder.

“Oi, fuck off.” I rushed, nudging her back, thatsmug smile all over her face.

She eyed me. “Aww, you’re missing Tristan somuch; you’re even sounding like him. How sweet.” I tugged another one of her curls. “Hey—”

“Crap, where was I?” Grandpa asked the lines on his forehead deepened, stealingback our attention.

Daisy's eyes were on him in an instant. “You were bolting down the ice,Grandpa.”

“Oh yeah,” He set his mug back on the counterwith a clink. “I was bolting down the ice, and out of nowhere, Laurent swoops in from my left and steals the puck right from under me.” He blew a breath from his mouth, and even though this happened thirty-nine years ago, that breath still held so much disbelief. “I should’a seen it coming. I mean, Charles Laurent was always a rascal; he never knew when to call it quits or let someone else have their moment, ya know?”

I nodded, my eyes locked on Grandpa. It was stillamazing to me, even after having these stories be the ones we’d fall asleep when we were little, how inspired they still made me feel. How right it made everything about the path I’d chosen for myself with hockey feel. How I wanted to be this man to my grandkids one day.

Grandpa’s eyes, the same fir green that had beenpassed to me and Daisy, dulled a little when he said, “It was always his moment. It was always his credit. And, hell, if anyone tried to take that from him, you’d be benched for the next three games so you knew your place.”

I shuffled on my elbows, clearing my throat. “What made you do it then, Grandpa?”

I already knew his answer, but fuck it. It madehim happy to talk about it.

The worktop creaked underneath his weight ashe pushed himself away from it, the gravelly bottoms of his boots scraping on the tiles. Green flames lit up his eyes as he mirrored me, leaning his elbows on the island opposite me and Daisy, shrugging like what he did was nothing.“I remembered everything I was doing this for.”His finger pointed at me. “The only reason I stole the puck back and gently knocked him off his skates—”

“Gently?” Daisy jested. “Remember that we’veseen the tapes from that game—”

“And I did it because I thought to myself, ‘Whatkind of role model am I being if I’m gonna let another guy swoop in and take my dream away from me?’. I’d be a lousy one, if I let him keep that damn puck. And I don’t regret it. I was selfish, sure, but thinking about myself for that split second, thinking about everything I was letting myself become if I hid, was the reason we won the Stanley Cup, and the reason why I was captain for the next eight seasons after.”

I knew that come tonight I’d have sat down withthe VCR and watched that entire game from start to finish. The last time I dusted it off from the attic and forgot the world was the night before we flew out to New York, a few days before we started Liberty Grove.

I used to picture myself in place of my Grandpawhen I watched it. I used to imagine what it would feel like—the gold and blue Knights jersey with my name on the back, the roar from the stands, the chill of the rink, the aggression bearing through everyone’s helmets and the pressure that I knew would push me to be the best version of myself out there. I used to think of him, and Daisy, and sometimes my dad, depending on how he made me feel that day, all calling my name from their seats.

And I knew if that ever happened one day, I’d have made it.

“Just don’t go doing anything like that with theLions, Finn. You ain’t earned the right to be selfish yet.” Grandpa laughed, bringing me back into the moment and a smile across my lips.

“I know my place,” I chuckled. “No risks until I’mcaptain.”

Grandpa shook his head, hisforehead scrunching with smug shadows. “Oh, you can take risks. That’s how you’ll know when you’re ready.”

“For what?”

He shrugged. “Whatever it is you see yourself aswhen you think about your future, on and off the ice.”

I don’t know what I’d do without this man in mylife. Seriously. I have no idea how I’d navigate things. Sure I had Daisy, but that was for the sibling stuff, for the heart-to-hearts when we were going through the same things. But life advice? How to be a man that would benefit the world? If Grandpa wasn’t here, I’d be as good as lost. Falling from the sky without a parachute.

The hum of comfortable silence descended upon the kitchen then, as did theglow from the sunset, casting orange beams across the wooden cupboards. It was as if the world knew that we needed a quiet moment, just the three of us, before he walked in.

The second I recognised the familiar jingle of keys in the porch door, I looked down at my watch: 17:44 PM. Give it an hour, and he’d be back out that door again, crawling into the same cesspit he called a bar that he’d existed in all day.

Hell, every day since we’d been back for the summer.

Clearing his throat, the sound full of disappointment, Grandpa got up from theisland. “That’s my cue. I’ll be in the stables if you need me.”

As Grandpa strode towards the back door, I had to roll my eyes. Not at him; Iwould never. No, this eye roll was for the tumbling that was coming from the entryway. The sound of his keys hitting the floor, followed by a thud, was all Daisy and I needed to look at each other and decide to head in there.

Every time I caught Daisy’s eyes, especially now that we were stuck at homewith Dad, I could see it—the weight she carried. The way her sadness clung to her, thick and heavy, just waiting for the moment she could close her bedroom door and let it spill out. It was all there, no matter how hard she tried to hide it .

I wondered if she saw the same thing in me. If she noticed how my chest feltlike it was caving in every time I locked my door and killed the light, finally free to unravel.

My eyes glanced at her, finding hers already tracing my face.

Of course, she saw it. I didn’t even need to second-guess it.

And it was more than just sometwin thing. We’d been through too much together not to read each other like our favourite books. The way our smiles sat too straight, like we’d stapled them in place. The way we never let them crack wide enough to show what was happening underneath.

What sounded like a picture frame falling from the end table pressed play onour movements, leaving the kitchen and turning the corner until both of us stood before Dad.

So many thoughts came to my head when I sawhim sprawled across the floor, like a debate team in my head.

What an embarrassment to let your kids see you like this.

It isn’t his fault. He’s heartbroken.

But does that excuse forgetting to raise us past the age of twelve? Does thatgive him the right to exist like this? Wasting the rest of his life in crappy bars instead of helping his kids pack for their sophomore year of college? Hell, does it excuse him from barely contacting us during our freshman year?

It’s because she’s not here. He’s not the man he was without her.

So does that mean we’re not enough?

“Grab his other arm.” Daisy sighed, the swell of tears showing in her voice. I didn’t think she cared if I knew she was crying. We’d done this so many times now she probably thought it didn’t bother me to watch her face get coated in tears.

Little did she know that seeing her cry was one of the things that made me cry.

But I swallowed the lump in my throat. I’d cry later.

As she bent down to take his right arm, I grabbed his left, hauling him to his feetand wrapping his arm over my shoulder, as Dais mirrorred me. We shuffled our way to his bedroom, thankfully on the ground floor of the house. He and Grandpa switched, or rather Grandpa made him switch, after walking in and catching us doing this once when we were fifteen, except we had to haul him up two flights of stairs.

I choked down the memory as we neared his door.

“You got him?” Daisy asked me.

“Yeah,” I struggled as I twisted the handle.

We shuffled in, our groans mixing with his drunken murmurs, before laying himacross the red flannel sheets. I took off his boots while Daisy fluffed a pillow behind his head.

It’s embarrassing. We’re his kids. We shouldn’t be doing this.

Would he do it for you if you’d taken Mom’s death this bad?

I was twelve, I was hardly at risk of getting a drinking problem.

But still, if the grief was this bad, wouldn’t he do the same for you?

Our grief was this bad, and where the fuck was he?

“Finn?” Daisy’s voice snapped my eyes into focus.

“Yeah?” I asked, finding her at the foot of his bed, by my side.

Neither of us says anything, we just stare. We didn’t need to talk about it. Whatwas the point when he was too far gone to get better ?

Her eyes cast back down to Dad for a second, watching, studying, and I did thesame.

We never thought it would get this bad. No kid wants to imagine their parent,their only parent, morphing into this. The grief counsellors our middle school assigned us when it happened told us that Dad might not be himself for a while, and that it was important, whilst keeping ourselves above water, not to let him drown too.

In my mind, that meant helping with breakfast, talking about the happymemories with Mom instead of the sad ones, and doing well at school, at hockey. But never did I picture this.

I looked back to Daisy, her eyes hazy as she took in Dad, snoring away in hisbed, his eyelids half open. On another planet entirely.

She didn’t need to see this.

“C’mon,” I threw my arm around her shoulder, tugging us out of the room.

We stumbled back out into the kitchen, the fierce glow from the sunset spillingthrough the windows, illuminating the dust particles.

“Want some hot cocoa?” I asked her, pulling open thecupboard doors.

“Yes, please.” She sighed, launching herself up onto the countertop. As I put apan on the stove and filled it with milk, she cleared her throat. “What was it you wanted to tell me before? When you came in?”

I turned my head to her.

When I came in—?

Oh.

Oh.

I felt my eyes widen, my mouth running faster than my brain. “I saw Rory. Outside St.Bernadettes.”Confusion masked my face. "Or at least I think I did."

She pulled her head back, her bright blonde curlsshaking as a tiny smile spread across her face, disbelief weaving between her dimples. “Well, that’s impossible.” She jested, rubbing her hand across her nose and sniffing. “You were probably just thinking about her and then saw someone who looked like her.”

As I light the stove, I shook my head. “I wasn’t thinking about her.”

She sniffed again, although this one had a little laugh mingled within it. “Ha,yeah. Good one.” I looked at her, my eyes narrowed. “What? Is it so crazy for me to assume that our friend, who just lost her Dad, is on your mind more than before?” She shook her head, that sadness filtering back into her eyes. “I know I’m thinking about her.”

There was no point in arguing. Aurora Greene had always been somewhere in mymind since the night I met her. But recently, after how we left things, after what happened the day of Tristan’s concert? My mind was full of her, filling every crack and corner that existed up there.

That thought triggered something.

“It was her. I know it was.” I recalled her face,her dress, the solemn look onher face, the flowers, and the crowd of people behind her all dressed in black.

Oh my—

“It was a funeral.”

The only bit of darkness that lived in Daisy'seyes widened, considering my words, before shaking her head. “No, no, that’s impossible.”

Tearing open the cocoa sachet and pouring it intothe pan, I looked back at her. “Has she said anything to you, or the girls?”

Her hands raised to the ends of her hair, twirling it like she always did whenshe was lost in her thoughts. “Not really. She said the funeral was soon when we asked her the other day, but she never mentioned when exactly, or where.” She shook her head. “I assumed she was staying in New York.” As though a string of fairy lights lit up in her head, her back straightened. “She is from Montana, though. But since she moved to New York right before she started high school, she never really spoke much about it or the name of the town she grew up in.”

Honeywood was small. But not small enough that we would have known eachother had we gone to different schools or lived on separate sides of town. And if she left before high school, and happened to go to the only other middle school here? We would have missed each other.

I get lost in the cocoa as it swirls in the pan, but all that does is remind me ofher and how her skin still glowed today, even in the shadow of the spire.

“You know what, I’ll just ask her,” Daisy said, butbefore she had a chance to even unlock her phone, I spun around.

“No, not now.” She lifted her eyes to me. “If itwas her, then she’s probably craving some quiet after today.” I nodded, more for myself. “Ask her next week, when we’re all back.”

Chewing her bottom lip, Daisy nodded, before hopping down from her stooland making headway for the mug cabinet.

I shifted my eyes out the window, looking over the fields that made up ourbackyard. But like always, she was everywhere.

Rory always overpowered my thoughts.Regardless of where I was, regardless of what was happening right before my eyes, she was there. In every bit of light she existed in.Like right now. I saw her in the faint pink swirls that were painted across the sky. I heard her voice in the whispers of the breeze. I felt her in the warmth radiating through the windows.

Whether I liked it or not, she was never far away.

“Would you maybe, I don't know, want to grab coffeesometime? Explore the city? Whatever you want.”

I blocked out every bit of the view my eyes were soaking up, hating the guilt that beganto swirl in my stomach when I thought back to Goldie’s birthday dinner, where Rory asked me out, rather bravely. And I had the audacity to just stare at her, saying nothing.

Giving her nothing.

The creaking of hinges stole my attention. BothDaisy and Iwhipped our heads towards it, and my heart dropped when I saw Dad.

He was throwing on his jacket, wrapping it over his shoulders with his car keys wedged between his teeth.His eyes were still hollow, like someone else was controlling him. What was left of his dark blonde hair was still messy from where he'd been lay. And I couldn't put into words how much it smelt like he'd bathed in whiskey.

Daisy looked at me for a moment. And in one look, we said everything neither of us wanted to voice.

Is he leaving so soon? Her stare asked.

Looks like it. My shrug and head shake replied.

Then, for a split second, as our eyes fell back onto him, he looked at us, and healmost looked sober. Only for a second. It was that look you do when you remember something you’ve forgotten. Like when you come back from the store and realise you left without getting the one thing you went for in the first place. It was that. Although it hurt, seeing that look.

He forgot we were here. It was written all over his face.

I didn’t so much as let the muscles in my jaw tick when I watched his stare sink before he headed out of the door. I didn’twant him to see how his negligence made me feel.It was too late for him to try to fix anything, and I wasn’t naive enough tobelieve he would.

We’d tried. Daisy had pleaded. Grandpa had fought like hell. But Dad didn’t care enough to change. The man starting up that truck, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other God-knows-where, was exactly who he wanted to be. And it wasn’t someone who gave a damn about his kids.

I let my head fall back against the window frame, staring at the fields as thesunset spilt gold over them. I wanted to bottle that warmth and hold on to it because God knew I couldn’t get it here. Not from him. Not from this house that made me feel like I was suffocating in the shadow of someone else’s failures.

I won’t end up like him. That was the promise Imade myself every single day. No matter how bad it got, I wouldn’t let myself sink into a place where love or loss could strip me down to nothing. Leave me with nothing.

Even if that meant forgetting the hold AuroraGreene had on me.