Chapter 9
AVERY
Pulling up to Leif’s house was hard.
I’d been here so many times, driving through Sewickley Heights on autopilot. I’d slept here when we’d had too much to drink or been up too late. I’d helped Leif and Rachel landscape the yard and around their pool in the back.
Today, the garage door was open, and the sight of Leif’s red Porsche took my breath away.
The part that made my chest hurt, though, was the vacant space beside the car.
There was a net in the corner that we’d often dragged out to play street hockey, and some sticks and balls tucked in behind them.
Along the wall were his and Rachel’s snowboards.
But most of that area between his car and the wall was empty, as was the hook hanging just above the hockey net.
Leif’s motorcycle was gone. So was his helmet.
Holding the wheel tight, I stared at that void, my guts roiling as I tried not to think about things I wished I didn’t know.
I had no idea if Rachel had sold the motorcycle, or if it was still where it had been parked when Leif had lost consciousness. In her shoes, I didn’t know if I’d want to grab on to everything he’d ever touched and never let go, or if I’d never want to see that bike again.
I closed my eyes and exhaled, my hands aching from the death grip I had on the steering wheel.
I couldn’t think about all that right now.
Rachel had asked me to come over because she needed help with some things.
I’d never told Leif out loud that if anything ever happened to him, I’d look after his family—why would I?
We were in our twenties. Nothing was going to happen to either of us.
But now that he was gone, I’d made that vow to myself that I’d never said out loud to my friend.
There was nothing any of us could do to bring back her husband and their father, but like hell was I going to add to this family’s burden by being an emotional trainwreck. Even if that was exactly what I fucking was.
“Pull it together,” I muttered as I shut off the engine. “Leif’s family needs you.”
I let that mantra beat on the insides of my skull as I got out of the car. Today wasn’t about me or my grief. It was about the woman who’d lost her husband and the kids who’d lost their father.
I paused for a deep breath. Then I locked my car and walked in through the garage, ignoring the absence of that bike and the way my fingertips itched to run over the seat and the fuel tank.
It had been a habit. I didn’t even remember when or why I’d started doing it, and I hadn’t actually been aware that I did until now when there was nothing to touch.
Jesus. Was this grief? Just getting blindsided by random gut punches over things I didn’t even know I missed?
The door to the kitchen opened, mercifully jarring me out of my thoughts. In an instant, the uncomfortably silent garage was filled with shouts of “Uncle Avery!” as the twins came thundering down the steps.
I laughed as they almost knocked my legs out from under me, and the relief was dizzying.
I hugged them, and they talked over each other, wanting to drag me to their rooms or the rec room or the backyard.
Kalle fell all over himself to tell me all about something he’d made in kindergarten that he wanted to show me.
Linnea wanted me to take her swimming because I promised.
They stared up at me with wide, elated eyes, unaware of how much they both looked like their dad. Those blue eyes. Those dark curls.
“I think that’s why Rachel wants a fourth so bad,” Leif had joked. “She wants one of the kids to look like her.”
“Hey,” Rachel had retorted, elbowing him. “Fourth time’s the charm!”
Yep. One unexpected gut punch after another. Fuuuck.
“Come on, you two,” Rachel’s voice broke through the noise, “At least let Uncle Avery come in and take off his shoes. Linnea, it’s too cold to swim today.”
Linnea pouted. Kalle took my hand and tugged me toward the kitchen, pleading his case with his mom as we walked. Inside, Elsa saw me, and her round face lit up as she stretched out her arms for a hug.
Rachel offered a smile, obviously trying to be strong for the kids (and probably for me). She couldn’t hide the fatigue and heartache, though. “Hi, Avery. How are you doing?”
“I’m all right,” I lied as I hoisted Elsa onto my hip. I opened my mouth to follow up with a quip about practice or the season, but they all turned to ashes on my tongue.
“I think Coach is trying to kill us.”
“You know how brutal the regular season is.”
“It’s tough, but I wouldn’t trade a minute.”
Those had all been automatic responses in the past. Today, none of them felt like the right thing to say to my teammate’s grieving widow. Instead, I went with, “The season is keeping me busy.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling. No hockey, but…” She gestured at the kids.
“I’m sure Coach can relate, keeping after all of us.”
She managed a quiet laugh at that, and so did I.
I gently put Elsa back down so I could take off my shoes.
While I did that, Rachel parked the kids in front of the TV.
She and Leif had never been reliant on electronic babysitters, but they’d both freely admitted that there was no harm in occasionally using a cartoon to occupy the kids.
I had a feeling there’d been more of that than usual lately, and I didn’t judge Rachel for it at all.
While she got the kids situated, I poured myself a cup of coffee—they’d always insisted I make myself completely at home here—and a moment later, Rachel came into the kitchen to get one of her own.
Then, coffee cups in hand, we stepped into the dining room. Here, she could still keep an eye on the kids while we had a modicum of privacy.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “Be honest—how are you doing?”
She stole a glance into the living room, then ducked back into the dining room, fully out of their sight, and let the veil drop. Her shoulders sank. Her smile fell. She seemed paler, too, though that might’ve been my imagination.
She set her coffee on the dining room table, and mine joined it a second later. I suddenly wasn’t so sure I could stomach drinking it.
With a heavy sigh, she folded her arms loosely and pressed her shoulder into the wall beneath a wedding portrait. “It’s been hard. I…” She closed her eyes and pushed out a breath before looking up at me again. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“I don’t think anyone expects you to,” I whispered. “But you know you’ve got all of us, right? Me, but also any of the Rebels. Even the new guys. Anything you need, anything we can do…”
Her smile returned, but it just made her look sadder and even more tired. “I know. You guys have all been amazing. Especially you.” With a wet laugh, she added, “I practically have to chase all the other wives out sometimes.”
I chuckled soundlessly. “Yeah, that probably gets overwhelming.”
“It does. It’s better than the alternative, but…
” She lowered her gaze and chewed her lip.
After a moment, she swallowed hard and looked up at me through her lashes.
“Listen, there’s a reason I asked for you and only you to come today.
I… I need help with some things that I’m not ready for the rest of the wives to know about. ”
I raised my eyebrows. “Things you’re not—” My teeth snapped shut when the piece clicked into place. I raised them even higher. “Are you…?”
She managed a smile, though it was halfhearted. “Yeah. About… My OB thinks I’m about fourteen weeks.”
The flood of emotions that crashed through me were so unfamiliar, I couldn’t begin to make sense of them. “Did Leif—” I put up my hands. “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask—”
“He knew,” she said softly. “We’d been trying for a while, and he was the one who actually told me to get a test.” Her laugh this time was melancholy but genuine. “He knew with all of them before I did.”
Oh, I remembered that much. He’d been insufferable about it with both pregnancies.
He hadn’t said a word about this one, though.
For a heartbeat, I wanted to be hurt by that, but he and Rachel had gone through a lot trying to have kids.
That they were incredibly tightlipped about it for a while—not even telling me—really was understandable.
Rachel cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair.
“I’m not going to be able to hide it much longer.
I mean, it’s a good thing the weather’s getting colder.
” She gestured at the bulky hoody she was wearing.
“Makes it easy to hide things for a while. But people will know soon. I’m just…
We’re past the first trimester, you know?
Twelve weeks is usually when we’d start shouting it from the rooftops, but I’m still just…
” She trailed off as her eyes welled up.
Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I gathered her into a gentle hug, and my heart broke with how quickly and fully she sagged against me.
She didn’t cry—I suspected that, like me, she was overdrawn on tears these days—but she quietly collapsed against me, and I did the best I could to hold her upright.
“We’ve got you,” I said. “The whole team is at your disposal. Babysitting, helping around the house—anything you need.” I paused to steady my voice. “I know none of that fixes anything, but don’t think you’re in this alone, okay?”
The response to that was a ragged sigh.
After a solid minute or two, she let me go and whispered, “I feel like the worst mother ever because I’m not going out of my mind with joy over this baby.
But I’ve spent the last two months freaking out over the slightest twinge or anything because…
” She swiped at her eyes with a shaky hand.
“I mean, what if I lost it, you know? It’s happened before, and this baby is my last connection to Leif.
So then we hit twelve weeks, and I should be so relieved and happy, but I’m just…
” Her shoulders sank even more. “I’m a mess. ”