Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
HUNTER
M y mom looks…nervous when she opens the door to the hotel room. But her smile is warm as she pulls me in for a hug, holding on for longer than usual. I know it’s not just because I haven’t seen her since January. It’s because life feels extra fragile lately.
“It’s so good to see you, Hunter.”
“You too,” I say, releasing her and walking deeper into the room. “How was the drive?—”
I stop talking as soon as I see Sean sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Don’t worry,” he drawls. “I have my own room.”
My brother looks awful.
He stopped by for Christmas dinner in December, since it was during one of his sober phases. That was the last time I saw him in person, and it seems like a lot longer than six months ago. Sean’s about twenty pounds skinnier than he was then. His head is shaved, emphasizing the gauntness of his face and the dark circles under his eyes. He looks a lot older than twenty-four.
“Sean decided he was up for the drive,” my mom says. Her voice is full of false cheer that sounds spread thin.
She knows Sean and I haven’t talked since his overdose. Knows he’s been avoiding me.
My brother stands, cracking his knuckles.
I’m taller than him by a couple of inches. I remember the day I hit his height being one of the greatest days of my life. Finally looking the guy I’d looked up to all my life in the eyes.
“Yeah,” Sean says. “Sitting in the car for seventeen hours really takes it out of you.”
“Sean,” Mom chastises softly.
“Guess you still have your sense of sarcasm,” I say.
“Yeah. Guess so.”
We stare at each other, two brothers acting like strangers. Love and anger are battling inside of me. That frantic hour when I was terrified I’d never see my brother again is fresh in my memory, reminding me how short and tenuous life is.
But I’m also so mad at him. For putting me—and our parents—through that after everything else he’s already put us through. And for not answering a single fucking call since it happened.
Sean rubs at his jaw. The last time I saw him, he had an unkempt beard. He’s completely clean-shaven now. “Wanna go for a drive?”
“A drive?”
“Uh-huh. Seventeen hours wasn’t long enough.”
I snort. “I just got here.”
Sean clears his throat. “Please, Hunter.”
He clearly wants to talk to me alone, but I’m not sure that’s a great idea. I’m less liable to say something I’ll regret around our parents. And, past his bluster, I’m not oblivious to the fact that Sean just had a near-death experience. It’s in both of our interests if I keep my mouth mostly shut.
I glance at my mom. She nods encouragingly.
I was expecting to have a seventeen-hour drive to decide what to say to my brother. I wasn’t expecting him to be here. I’m shocked , actually, that he came to my graduation. I assumed he was still at the rehab center, because my mom never said otherwise.
Whatever. We’ll have to do this at some point, I guess.
“Yeah. Fine.” I pull my car keys back out of my pocket. “We’ll be back soon, I guess.”
“Have fun and be safe!” she calls.
Same thing she’s always said to us.
Sean’s silent as we step into the elevator and head back down to the Westin’s lobby.
I am too. He’s made it clear he didn’t want to hear what I had to say, so I’m waiting for him to talk first.
By the time we’re in my SUV, he still hasn’t said a word.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “So…where to?”
“What about the rink?”
“They melted the ice.”
Sean shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t bring my skates.”
“Fine.” I pull out of the parking lot, turning up the music so we don’t have to sit in stifling silence. It’s the Arctic Monkeys. Eve turned me on to them.
“No. 1 Party Anthem” ends, and “Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?” starts next.
I deliberate skipping to the next song, but then I decide to leave it on.
Sean doesn’t say a word. Either he’s oblivious to the lyrics’ uncanny relevance, or he’s choosing not to comment.
Which makes me think my brother has changed even more than I realized. Because the Sean I used to know was smart—smarter than me. Nothing got past him. And he loved a good joke or prank.
The rink’s parking lot is completely empty. Which I expected. All the underclassmen have left campus for the summer, most of the graduating seniors are spending time with their families, and the rink hasn’t been used for more than a month. Officially, it closed back in March when our season ended.
Sean pops his door open and climbs out like he’s fully expecting to head inside.
I have a key, but he doesn’t know that.
I trail after him, studying my brother like he’s a code I’m trying to decipher.
Sean crouches down in front of the door handles, slipping something out of his pocket.
“What are you doing?” I ask, reaching him.
“I wanna see the rink, not the building.”
“So you’re breaking in ? Isn’t your rap sheet long enough, Sean?”
“We must all look pretty tiny from your high horse, huh?”
“I have a fucking key,” I snap. “Stand up before someone calls campus police.”
Sean stands. “You have a key, huh? Was that part of the championship package?”
“So you do know we won one. I wasn’t sure, since you never bothered to show up or to congratulate me.”
That shuts him up.
Something that looks very similar to regret flashes across Sean’s face. But it’s gone a few seconds later when the hinges creak open.
My brother walks very slowly into the lobby I’ve entered a thousand times.
Watching him, I’m reminded that Sean never went to college. That his hockey career ended when he was in high school because of an injury that sent him spiraling into addiction.
Anger hurts more when it’s attached to sadness. It lingers and it stings and it festers.
“This is the main entrance,” I say gruffly. “Concession stand and ticket booth are over there. Locker rooms and offices are through that way.”
Sean’s stopped by the trophy display. The national championship is front and center, a framed photograph of the team right above it. I’m in the middle, between Conor and Aidan.
“These are your best friends, right? Phillips and Hart?”
“Yeah.” I’ve mentioned them before, but I’m surprised he remembers their names. Most of what I say to Sean seems to go in one ear and right out the other. “Rink’s through here.”
I shove through the doors that separate the lobby from the ice, and Sean follows me.
It’s not an impressive sight. The wooden bleachers are ancient and empty. The rubber mats are scuffed and frayed in spots, and the ice is missing, just a dull slab of concrete inside the boards.
But it’s been my second home for the past four years. The site of some of my happiest memories.
And something in Sean’s expression makes me think that he understands that. That he sees more than the mediocrity most do.
We take a seat in the bleachers, which creak under our combined weight, and Sean glances up at the bright banner. It’ll fade eventually, but right now it’s the brightest, newest thing in here.
“Nice rink,” he comments.
I say nothing. With Sean, it’s always difficult to tell if he’s being serious. That could be genuine, or it could be a jab.
“Mom said you finally got a girlfriend?”
“Finally?” I scoff. “I dated Jemma in high school.”
“Yeah, but that was high school . It never seemed that serious.”
“Well, I was…distracted.”
By you .
I think it; I don’t say it. But there’s a wry twist to Sean’s mouth that makes me think my brother read my mind.
“And now?” he asks.
“Now, I’m focused. It’s serious. She’s…special. She’s really special.”
“That’s great, Hunter. I’m happy for you.”
“You’ll meet her tomorrow, if you?—”
“Make it to the ceremony?” Sean smirks. “Don’t worry. I don’t have a dealer in this town. I’ll be there.”
“That’s not fucking funny,” I tell him.
Sean sobers. “I know. But as dumb as it sounds, it helps to remind myself that I have a problem. It’s when I convinced myself I was cured that things got bad.”
I go silent, because Sean’s never mentioned his reasoning before. There were just phases when he was better, and phases when he was bad. “That doesn’t sound dumb,” I say quietly.
He smiles and glances up at the new banner hanging from the rafters again. “Mom said you’re going to UPenn in the fall?”
“Yeah.”
“For political science?” There’s some amusement in his voice. “You gonna be a politician?”
“No. I’m planning to work for an organization that addresses the harms of drug use and implement policy solutions. There aren’t many organizations out there, so a master’s will mean a better shot at getting hired somewhere.”
“Fuck,” Sean says softly. He tips his head back, looking up at the bright banner again. “You won a fucking national championship, man. I couldn’t believe it when Mom told me. Still can’t, sometimes.”
“Me neither.”
“I can’t believe I missed it.”
“Me neither.”
He exhales. “I’m sorry, Hunter. I should have been there.”
I rest my elbows on my knees. “We don’t have to get into it.”
“Yeah, we do. I’m trying to tell you I know I fucked up. And then I fucked up again. And again. And again. Times that by a hundred. The more I did, the easier it got. But I want you to know that I know I fucked up, for whatever that’s worth.”
“You didn’t answer any of my calls. You almost fucking died , and you stopped talking to me.”
“I was embarrassed, Hunter. You don’t know what it’s like, to have people you love bail you out over and over again. To be so grateful and also to hate them for it. There were times I woke up and wish I had died, so you and Mom and Dad wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.”
An awful thought occurs to me. “Did you overdose on purpose?”
Sean blows out a long sigh. “No. It was a bad batch that I mixed with booze and some other shit.”
“Jesus, Sean.”
“It’s addictive. Not just the drugs, but doing something you know is bad for you. Dancing with the devil, you know. Or you don’t. You never had that impulse. It’s why you’re graduating with honors and heading to an Ivy, and I’m living with Mom and Dad.”
“You’re just letting your demons win,” I say.
“Maybe. It’ll be a lot harder to get back to that place after waking up to white walls and Mom crying, I can tell you that much.”
I flinch, the picture he’s painting too close to the image in my head when I was speeding down the freeway.
“You didn’t call that night.”
“I was home. I didn’t think I needed help. And—” He clears his throat. “You asked me not to.”
I close my eyes. Fuck. That’s exactly what I was worried about.
“I never should have been calling you, Hunter. I knew that, even high. It started because I was jealous. You were the golden boy, while I was the screwup, and I wanted to drag you down with me. And then, after you came here, it became the only way I could talk to you. I wasn’t going to call to tell my little brother about the job I lost or the junkie I’d fucked for free drugs, so I called you when I was high. Nice song choice, by the way.”
A reluctant smile curves up the corner of my mouth. “Thanks.”
“I’m not going to promise anything, because I’m so sick of breaking them. But I’m trying to get better. I want to get better. And don’t let me pull you into my shit. You should take whatever job you want, not?—”
“It is the job I want,” I interrupt. “Yeah, I started looking into it because of you, but there are hundreds of thousands of other people dealing with the same thing. They get in a cycle, and then they can’t get out. And they get punished for it.”
Sean doesn’t respond right away. And when he does, his voice is a little hoarse. “I’m really proud of you, Hunter. Really, really proud.”
“Thanks.” My reply is a little husky too.
He claps me on the back, and then we sit in silence for a bit, staring at the spot where the ice should be. I wonder when Sean skated last. My guess is it’s been a while, maybe even since high school.
“I think Mom made dinner reservations,” I finally say.
And is probably sitting anxiously in the hotel room, worrying about us.
Sean shakes his head as he stands. “Don’t want to be late? You’re really gunning for favorite son, huh?”
“Well, you could make it a little more of a competition,” I retort.
He grins, shoving me right as I stand. I have to turn the two steps down into one leap.
I flip him off, and he laughs. The laughter echoes, and it sounds like my childhood. Something I haven’t heard in a while.
And, as we head back toward the lobby, the guy walking beside me feels a lot less like a stranger.