14. Knox
14
KNOX
“ T hink Coach is going to let you play in our next game?”
I want to roll my eyes at Blaise to show him just how much he’s annoyed me, but I refrain. I know he’s talking about my shoulder and the fact that I’ve been out the last two games because of an injury I sustained due to one of the assholes on the Saints.
“He better. I’m over sitting on the sidelines,” I say as I check my phone to see the time. My sister should be here in a few minutes.
I take a swig from my water bottle and glance at Blaise, who is now busy flipping through the channels. He finally settles on a rerun of one of last week's NHL games. After watching two of the players slam into the boards, my shoulder aches in sympathy.
Blaise looks over at me, a hint of concern hidden behind his generally carefree expression. “You sure you're ready, man? I mean, we don’t want you coming back before you’re ready because we need you in top form.”
I shrug with my good shoulder. “I'll be fine.”
The doorbell rings, and I feel a wave of relief. Not that I don't appreciate Blaise's concern, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I get up and open the door to see my sister, Willow, standing there.
“Hey,” Willow says and gives me a small smile. She steps inside and I close the door behind her.
Blaise stands there with a wide grin on his face. “Willow, good to see you again.”
It’s then that I remember that they briefly met once, maybe a year ago, when she stopped by the room Blaise and I shared on campus to drop something off. I wasn’t there, so he grabbed it for me.
She removes her knit cap, shaking out a cascade of dark hair, and gives Blaise a once-over. “Yeah, you too,” she says, but I can see that she really wants to say, ‘And why are you here?’
“We were just talking about my shoulder,” I tell Willow, hoping to shift her focus from Blaise. “Blaise thinks I should sit out longer.”
“What happened?” She tilts her head as her eyes shift between my shoulders.
Oh. I forgot I didn’t tell her. “I got injured a couple of games ago because of some cheap shot by the other team. I’m fine.”
“Well, I think you should listen to your body,” Willow says, looking at me intently. “You only get one shoulder.”
“I mean, technically I have two,” I add.
She rolls her eyes at me, but she’s right, of course. And that’s not something I’m going to admit in front of them.
Blaise chuckles, probably the only one in the room feeling comfortable at this point. “He's got a point. Balance is key in our line of work.” He winks at Willow, who remains stoic.
I can almost see the tension lines forming around Willow's mouth. She’s never liked jocks, not since high school when she dated a football player who broke her heart and then laughed about it with his buddies. Let’s just say he quickly learned his lesson.
I clear my throat, trying to stop the awkwardness that is quickly growing. “Blaise, don’t you have class or something to study for?”
He raises an eyebrow, knowing a dismissal when he hears one, but shrugs it off. “Yeah, I should get going.” He picks up his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “Knox, take care of that shoulder and I’ll see you later. And Willow,” he pauses, giving her a genuine smile, “nice seeing you.”
As soon as the door closes behind him, Willow turns to me. “Does he always hang around this much?”
“He’s my teammate and he lives here,” I say, as if that explains everything.
“I guess that’s true. Anyway, are you ready to head out?”
“Yeah, and I’ll drive.”
“Are you sure you can drive with that shoulder injury?”
I sigh. “I’m fine, Wills,” I say as I grab my coat from the back of the couch and slide it on carefully. Willow eyes me, probably noting how gingerly I treat my injured side. She doesn’t say anything else though.
As we step outside, Willow puts her cap back on, and I notice how tired she looks. Her eyes have the faintest of shadows beneath them, like bruises that are just starting to form.
We reach my sedan, and I manage to open the driver's side door without too much struggle. Willow slides into the passenger seat and rubs her hands together to warm them up.
I start the engine, and it roars to life with a familiar growl. Turning on the heater, I glance over at Willow. “You doing okay?”
She shrugs. “Just a lot going on with school right now.”
I know she’s lying, or at least not telling the full truth. Willow has always been able to juggle schoolwork like a pro, even when she was taking twice the course load of a normal student. Something else is eating at her, but I don’t push. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my sister, it’s that she’ll talk when she’s ready.
The drive to downtown is short and thankfully not painful. We park near the new restaurant I suggested we try out. It’s called Bean the roast beef is tender, the cheese perfectly melted. It’s solid comfort food, the kind that temporarily makes everything in life seem manageable.
Willow sips her chai latte and then sets it down gently. “So, what’s going on with you, really? Outside of hockey and school?”
I chew slowly, buying time. How much do I want to tell her? “Not much. It’s just the season kicking my ass,” I say finally. “And now this shoulder thing.”
She looks at me, her green eyes—so much like Mom's—studying me as if she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “Knox, come on. I’m your sister and I know when you’re bullshitting me. You can talk to me.”
I set my sandwich down and wipe my hands on a napkin. “It's just... I'm worried about the draft, Wills. Scouts are at every game now, and I feel like I'm under a magnifying glass with this injury. One bad play could screw everything up.”
Her expression softens. “You’ve always done well under pressure. This is just another challenge.”
“Yeah, but it’s different now. It’s my future.” I run a hand through my hair, wincing as the movement pulls at my shoulder. “And if this injury takes me out for a few weeks…”
“You’ll recover. It’s not the end of the world.”
Maybe not for her. For me, it feels like a ticking time bomb. Every game I miss is one less opportunity to impress the scouts. Every practice I sit out puts me further behind.
I look at Willow, wanting her to understand the weight of it all. But how could she? She's always been into creating things while I was the athletic one. It’s all I’ve ever known.
“I know you think sports are ridiculous,” I say slowly, “but this is everything to me.”
She doesn't respond right away. Instead, she takes another sip of her latte, then looks out the window. “I don’t think they’re ridiculous,” she says finally, turning back to me. “I just have different priorities. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get why it's important to you.”
I want to believe her, and deep down I do. It’s just that I didn’t think I would be spilling out my deep, dark worries to my little sister, when it’s me who has been there to help her pick up the pieces of her life when they’ve fallen apart.
But you haven’t been around recently.
I take another bite, the sandwich now tasteless in my mouth. Willow's words linger, and I know she’s right. She’s always been more perceptive than I gave her credit for.
The thing is, I don’t doubt that she understands. It’s just easier to believe that she doesn’t—because if she truly gets it, then I can't dismiss her opinions as easily.
“I’m sorry,” I say, surprising myself. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you don’t care.”
Willow uncrosses her arms and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “It’s okay, Knox. I know you’re stressed. But remember, it’s not just you who has stuff going on.”
A spark of irritation flares up in me. Of course I know that. “Like what?” I ask, perhaps more sharply than intended. “What’s going on with you?”
She hesitates, and in that brief pause, I realize how little I actually know about her life right now. We’ve always been close enough to keep up with each other, but lately it seems like we’re both playing catch-up.
“Remember that internship I applied for months ago?” she says.
“I know you’ve been applying to internships all over, hopping between journalism and creative writing,” I pause for a second. “Wait, you mentioned one with a newspaper. Did you hear back?”
She nods. “They offered it to me.”
A smile appears on my face because I'm genuinely excited for her. This is huge; an internship like that could set her future career up.
“Willow, that's amazing! Why didn't you tell me sooner? We need to celebrate!”
She shrugs, but I can see the pride and also the conflict playing out on her face. “I wasn't sure how to break it to you. The internship is in New York.”
“So?” I say. The summer is months away and she deserves to get out of Crestwood if that’s what she wants to do. “Asher’s girlfriend, Isla, went to college in New York for years, so I’m sure she could help you plan your summer there.”
“Wait, you said her name is Isla? Isla Johnson?”
“That’s her. Why?”
Willow sits back in her chair with a small smile on her face. “She’s in my creative writing seminar class and we recently ran into her while hiking. She was with three other girls. We exchanged numbers and I keep forgetting that I said I would follow up with her about photography.”
The tune to “It’s A Small World” plays in my mind, but I don’t mention it. Instead, a question pops up that I can’t help but ask. “Do you know who the other three girls were?”
Willow stares at me for a second before she replied. “Um, I think their names were Hailey, Jade and…shoot. Her name started with a S.”
“Selene?”
Willow snaps her fingers. “That’s it. How did you know?”
This time it’s my turn to lean back in my chair, knowing I should have kept my mouth shut. “Lucky guess,” I say, though it's anything but.
Willow narrows her eyes at me. “Knox, are you dating her? Is that what this is all about?”
“No,” I say quickly, too quickly. “You know that I don’t date.”
“So then you’re fucking her.”
I shake my head at my younger sibling. “I don’t want to ever hear you say that phrase again.”
“Knox, I’m not a kid anymore,” she says, clearly annoyed. “Just tell me what's going on. It’ll be less painful than me guessing.”
I sigh, knowing that if I don't tell her now, she'll just keep digging until she figures it out. “It's complicated, Wills. Yes, we slept together. I got freaked out after and iced her out. I’ve now apologized and offered to make amends, but I haven’t heard anything back yet.”
“It’s taking everything in me to not tease you about how the Sanchez charm doesn’t seem to be working. In fact, I’d say its backfiring on you.” She chuckles and then speaks again. “But seriously, if you like her, why not just tell her?”
“I don’t know if I like her,” I lie. “It was supposed to just be casual.”
“Casual,” Willow repeats, as if testing the word on her tongue. “And where is casual getting you with this? You need to go all in.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she's right again. Casual has gotten me nowhere except more confused and frustrated. I close my mouth and run a hand through my hair, thinking of Selene and the way she laughed the first night we met. It was so carefree and beautiful. I thought I could keep my distance, that I could separate the physical from the emotional. But I was wrong.
“Look,” I say, trying to change the subject. “The point is that you have some awesome news. We should focus on that.”
Willow studies me for a moment longer, as if deciding whether to let me off the hook. “Yes, it’s great news,” she says, though her tone is more subdued now. “But it's also scary. New York is huge and expensive, and what if I'm terrible at it?”
“You'll crush it,” I say with the confidence she should have in herself. “Remember when you thought you couldn’t handle the high school newspaper? You were editor-in-chief by your junior year.”
“That was here, with people I know,” she says, biting her lip. “This is different.”
“Different, but not impossible. You have talent, Willow. And passion. Those are things you can't teach.”
She smiles then, a real one this time. “Thanks, Knox. That means a lot.” She checks her phone and then says, “We should head back soon. I still have a story I need to write.”
I finish the rest of my sandwich and use a napkin to wipe my mouth. “But not before we take a photo to send to Mom.”
Willow rolls her eyes but smiles. “Yes, let’s do that.”
Once our server has come back and handed us our bill, I give him my credit card and ask if he can take a picture of us when he comes back. Willow and I slide out of the booth and stand near the entrance, where a large mural of Crestwood’s skyline serves as a backdrop. We cross our arms so that they are slung over each other’s shoulders because we can’t give our mother everything she wants. However, we both decide to give genuine smiles to the camera. The server holds up her phone and counts to three; on the last count, Willow uncrosses her arms and makes a peace sign.
“Got it,” the server says, handing the phone back to her. I look over and watch Willow quickly swipe to find the photo and send it to Mom with the caption, “Sibling lunch! ”
“Ugh, I look terrible in that, but it’ll make her happy.”
“Oh be quiet. You look fine. Now let’s get out of here,” I say as I walk toward the door to hold it open for her.
We walk back to my car and silence fills up most of the ride back to campus. I steal a glance at Willow. She’s staring out the window, lost in her own thoughts. Probably thinking about New York and the big, scary future that awaits her. She’s grown up so much, yet in moments like these, I can still see the little girl who used to follow me around with a notebook, trying to interview me or write stories.
We pull up to her dorm and she hesitates before getting out. “Thanks for lunch, bro, and remember what I said about Selene.”
I shake my head. “Get out of my car.”
That makes her laugh as she slams the door behind her. I wait until she’s swiped her ID against the card reader before driving away.
And once again, I hate to admit that she’s right.