Page 5

chapter five

i had to try. for her.

“ W hy is French so fucking complicated?”

I didn’t realise I’d said that out loud until I heard Jesse bark a laugh from the couch. His elbows were on his knees, the Atari controlled clawed in his hands, and his attention still on the endless play of Space Invaders.

“You know, as the person who used to smuggle you fruit roll-ups in fourth grade, I would have at least thought you’d repay a favour and, I don’t know, actually care aboutmy inner turmoil.”

I kept my eyes trained on him whenhe shrugged. “Oh, I do,” he said over hisshoulder, his eyes still on the TV. “I’m just letting you wallow in what a bad choice of minor subject you picked.” After a few intense slams of the buttons, the YOU LOSE screen popping up, Jess tossed the controller next to him, before turning his head around and dishing me a shit-eating smile."Thank you for the roll-ups though."

I narrowed my eyes. “I wished the others saw how evil you are. ”

He laughed again, stretching up fromthe cushions and rolling up the sleeves of his Lions jersey. “Nah, man. Let them think I’m still the shy one. At least until junior year. Then I’ll wreak havoc.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought as my eyes flew back to my textbook.The most havoc I was sure that Jesse would wreak would be un-organising his records and leaving the milk in the fridge for a day longer than the sell-by date.

“Yeah, uh huh.” I mumbled to him as he wandered past the island I’d been glued to all afternoon, heading for the kitchen thatwas triple the size of the tiny one we had in the dorms last year.

Now that we weren’t freshmen, weall decided, me, Tristan, and Jess, that moving in together would be a missed opportunity if we didn’t. What made that decision even easier was when Tristan's dad started talking to us after Tristan’s New York show last May, telling us he had an apartment sitting empty in Chelsea from when he used to live here. He made it clear that it was ours if we wanted it, so long as we took care of the bills.

I lifted my head from my blurrynotes, my gaze drifting to the window. The skyline outside blurred into soft edges, fire escapes tangled with ivy from JoJo’s, the lady in the apartment above us, balcony, spilling over with potted plants that looked like they’d seen better days—not that she’d ever admit it.

A faint rustle from the kitchenbarely registered before Maple, JoJo’s cat thathad taken a liking to us, leapt onto the island, her paws landing with the grace of someone who knew she could get away with anything. Without missing a beat, she nudged my folded arms, then flopped across mynotes like they were placed there just for her, her purring loud enough to drown out the city below.

“Alright, alright,” I murmured, reaching up to scratch her ear. “Break time, I getit.”

I’d been back for three days, andthe workload was already piling up. And if I was a better student I would have taken my ass down to the library and not left until it was done.

But I, shock-horror to no one, was not a good student.

The only reason I had the workload was because of the scholarship that allowed me to pursue hockey, but also required me to pick a minor for me to get the academic credits needed to graduate.And my professors were great—really, they couldn’t be more helpful. But I think they saw what I was already realising about myself.

I sucked at French.

If it weren’t for the vision of me someday skating onto the ice in a QuebecKnights jersey, I wouldn’t have touched the subject with a ten-foot hockey stick. I mean, who willingly volunteers to stumble through French verbs that seem specifically designed to ruin your day?

I knew I didn't need to be fluent—or even set foot in Quebec if I ever made it ontothe team—but when I scrolled through the list of options I could have chosen from, picking French seemed like a solid plan.Learn the language, impress the scouts, and maybe wow a journalist or two with a few sentences about teamwork and croissants. It seemed… simple.

When the hockey scholarship came through, it felt like the universe was patting me on the back and saying, Oui, mon ami, this is your path. But now? Sitting here with half a textbook’s worth of conjugations laughing inmy face, I was starting to wonder if I’d been just a little too ambitious.

Or, you know, delusional.

Stroking my hand over Maple’sbrown, buttery fur, I slipped off my stool and turned my back, pulling open the refrigerator and almost salivating at the last remaining Dr. Pepper can that sat on the soda shelf. Grabbing a glass straw from the drawer, I took the opportunity, now that Jesse’s eight-foot-tall body wasn’t hogging it, to sink into the couch cushions, letting them eat me up and hopefully coax a pre-practice nap out of me. Taking me away, just for an hour or two, from everything that was weighing down on my shoulders.

But it seemed that the universewanted to fuck with me. Like it had been doing every day since being back.

My usual route to the languagespavilion? Blocked. Renovations, of course, because fuck me right? And, naturally, that little diversion led me straight into Rory. I sit down to be semi-studious forthe first time since June and Maple decides that my notes must simply be her sleeping quarters for the afternoon.

And just as I thought I might finallycatch up on the broken sleep, while thehouse was unusually quiet for somewhere Tristan Harper resided—I felt my phone vibrate beneath me.

A groan escaped as I leaned backagainst the couch, dragging my hands over my face and sliding down my neck, before I lift just enough to fish my phone out of my grey sweatpants. But the second I saw the name on the screen, the urge to launch it across the room became almost irresistible.

Really? What karmic offence did Icommit to deserve an ambush call from him of all people? Did I accidentally step on a fairy circle or offend some cosmic force? Because this feels personal.

I really shouldn’t be surprised. Thisis just what Dad does. When Daisy and I are home for holidays or summer, he’ll slip back into his old habits like they’re his favourite quarter-zip fleece, going about his days almost as if we aren’t there. With Grandpa close by, he feels secure enough to disappear into his fucked up way of grieving, like the safety net was there if anything happened to us.

But the second we left the state, itwas as if his panic kicked in. Like his wires have crossed and Daisy and I were suddenly all he could think about.

Shouldn’t that have felt reassuring? To know there was something left inhim, some sliver of care underneath all those toxic layers?

Probably. But instead, it just left usmore confused.

Part of me could help wonder if it was whatever love he had left for us simply spurring to life in the rare,almost non-existent moments when he wasn’t consumed by eight different spirits. Part of me wondered whether his paranoia was a side effect of his mind drowning in alcohol, and not him choosing to make things right and start showing up for us .

But I couldn’t let myself go there. Not now. Not if I wanted to drag myself topractice later with anything close to a clear head and actually, you know, practice.

His voice echoed in the corners of my mind, as the buzzing in my hand broughtmy eyes back down to the screen, the debate team that lived in my roars to life.

I should answer it. Something could have happened.

Grandpa would have called you if something was wrong. Ignore it.

What if he needs me?

When has he ever needed you?

But—

Ignore it. He’ll forget you exist in ten minutes.

Before long, the screen fades, replaced by my screensaver—a fully zoomed-outshot of all seven of us crammed together at the pizza place two blocks down, laughing and leaning into each other. I didn’t know if it was seeing that picture, or realising that I didn’t have to choose between answering and ignoring, but the breath I’d been holding finally eased out of my chest.

But then, the old, familiar tug of guilt crept in, cold and quiet and always without me having time to prepare for it.

Like she could sense thoughts beggining to spiral, my phone buzzed, lighting up with a textfrom Daisy .

my better half ??

today at 16:06pm

did he call?

I sighed, sitting up straighter and swinging my legs off the couch, feet planted firmly on the ground.

yeah, he called.

did you answer?

no. you?

nope.

I shook my head before I typed back.

liar.

Her reply was in stant.

okay i’m a liar.

why dais? why did you answer?

i worry about him.

i do to. but we’ve tried to get him help. grandpa’s tried. nothing ever works.

i just feel bad.

I stared at her last message, the guilt digging in like it always did.

She shouldn’t feel bad. She’s got no reason to—not when he doesn’t evenbother to ask about her life, doesn’t see her beyond whatever version of us exists in his head. And yet, I know she keeps answering his calls, like maybe this time will be different. Like maybe this is the moment he’ll care. And that hope? That hope cuts deeper than any insult he’s ever thrown my way, because I know it’s eating her alive.

It makes me furious—at him, at the universe, at everything. But mostly at myself. Because no matter how many times I tell her she deserves better, that his approval isn’t worth the weight she’s putting on herself, it doesn’t stick.

So yeah, the duty to hold this mess of a family together always lands squarelyon me, and I take it. Every time. Because I’ll be damned if Daisy carries it. She’s too soft for this world, too good for him, and I’ll set myself on fire if it means keeping her from burning.

My thumbs burned into my screen.

don’t. he doesn’t deserve it.

i’ll try.

A small smile lifted on my lips, picturing her.

he said he only wanted to wish you luck at the game tonight.

Sure he did.

oh, and before i forget, we’re all coming with you and the guys for pizza after practice, just so you know

My spine stiffened for a whole different reason, as my hands gathered in my hair until they was gripping the base of my neck.

define all.

Quick as a flash Daisy sent back.

she’ll be there.

Up until now the reminder that I had hockey to come back to after summer wasthe only thing keeping me going. That was until I saw Rory last week, outside the church, and suddenly being here, near her, was the last thing I wanted.

I looked back down at my phone after it buzzed again.

i love you finn, but one of these days you’ll have to get over whatever it was that made you turn her down last year. for her sake. for the groups sake.

I’d never wished for a flip phonemore in my life, craving the drama ofslamming it. Instead, I had to settle for tapping the keys extra fast and launching my phone into the cushions when I’d finished, ignoring it when it buzzed again.

Out of the corner of my eye, Ispotted a wall of black heading towards me.

Tristan was home.

I barely lifted my eyes to meet him as he stopped at the foot of the couch.“Christ, who pissed in your Shreddies this morning?”

If I could shoot lasers out of myeyes, he’d be ashes right now.

He shuffled, leaning his guitaragainst the wall. “Actually, can I nickwhatever's in your head right now?” I furrowed my brows. “I’m getting writer's block, and I think whatever turmoil you’re clearly experiencing that’s made your face look like that will help—okay why are you going red?”

My eyes burned from how blunt I made my stare.

He rolled his, craning his head backslightly. “Oi Jess, he’s being a mard arse again.”

Not a second later, the thuds from Jesse’s footsteps got louder as he came backinto the living room. He stopped right beside Tristan at the end of the couch, stuffing the last of whatever he’d stolen from the cupboards earlier into his mouth.“It’s day three and you’realready sulking?”

I folded my arms. “I’m not sulking.”

“Says the man sulking.” Tristanquipped.

I sat up on my elbows. “I hope youget nominated for a Grammy and lose—Oh woah, woah, what the fuck are you doing—”

Jess and Tristan barely shared aglance before each grabbing a foot and pulling me from the couch. The fabric burned as it glided underneath my calves, pulling my shirt around my waist as my body flopped onto the hardwood floor.

“Get off me you absolute freaks.” I barked, which was met by barked laughsfrom the assholes I called my best friends.

“Get the door,” Tristan said to Jess, who loosened his grip on my left foot toone hand as his other pulled open the apartment door.

I s aw their plan, but before I could protest, their pulls intensified, the slight tickle blooming in the centre of my feet.

Once my body was out in the hallway, God knows what sticking to my clothes,Jess and Tristan bolted back into the apartment, the giggles that made them sound like toddlers at a tea party echoing in the hallway before the front door closed and bolted.

I got to my feet, anger mixed withlaughter radiating through me. “I need to get ready for practice, Burton will literally kill me if I’m late—”

“Oh well, you should have thoughtabout that before you had a tempertantrum.” Jess mumbled.

I knocked my fist against the door. “I did not have a temper tantrum!”

Tristan snickered. “Says the man have a temper tantrum—”

“Because you locked me outside—”

“My lord , what is that racket?” Asweet, leathery voice called from the end of the hallway, leading to the stairwell.

I turned my head to find JoJo,lifting my palm in her direction. “Sorry JoJo, my roommates aren’t very nice people.”

She simply smiled, and the moment Iheard her footsteps heading back up the stairwell, I slammed my fist against the door. “Let me in!”

A second later, a note slid under thedoor. I bent my knees down to get it,sighing as I stayed crouched and read what was written .

Save whatever is going on for the rink.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms as my eyes squeezed shut.

I hated it when they were right. But I suppose if they weren’t then I’d have probably boiled over by now.

It was this unspoken thing between us. They knew—always knew—when itwas about him.

“How can you tell?” I’d asked once,cornered by them both after one of the last games of last season when I’d been stupid enough to answer Dad’s call, making me commit a few fouls and getting into a fight with the other team's goalie.

“Because you’re the least angryperson we know,” Jess had said, matter-of-fact as ever. “Except when it’s about him.”

They weren’t wrong. Every time Ifelt the wires in my head short-circuiting, sparking with the same shit that had made him burn his life to the ground, it terrified me.

What if it’s in me too?

I pressed my forehead against thedoor, pulling in slow, shuddering breaths. I couldn’t keep letting his shadow stretch this far. I couldn’t let the mess he made of his life spill into mine.

Three quick knocks. “I will. I’msorry,” I murmured, just loud enough tobe heard.

The lock unclicked instantly. Tristanand Jess stood there before they clapped me on the back and pulled me in, with no hesita tion, no judgment. Nothing that would have convinced me they were sick of me.

That’s when it hit.

What if I lost them? What if I pushedthem away because I couldn't stop fearing that I’d become him? What if it went further than simply refusing to love someone? What if I’d let my fear of becoming him ruin my life so much that I would eventually have no one? Not even my friends.

The thought was as sobering as a slap.

I had to stop.

I had to stop doing this to everyone.

To them. To Daisy.

To Rory.

Maybe we could get coffee sometime… just the two of us?

I'd wanted to say yes. God, every partof me burned to tell her that getting coffee with her sounded like the best idea in the world.

But I hadn't. Instead, I'd let my dad’s voice crawl into my head, filling mewith fears of becoming him if I let myself have her. It was easier to lock it all up inside than face what I was truly scared of.

Becoming the best of him if I hadher.

Only to become the worst if I losther.

And back then I thought that risk outweighed everything.

But not anymore.

I had to change. Rory deserved morethan silence. More than the quiet ache of feeling like she wasn’t enough.

I headed for the couch to grab myphone to text Daisy back.

i will. i promise.

When her reply came seconds later, the reality of what letting go of the past meant hit me square in the chest.

in that case. we may all need your help tomorrow.