13. CHLOE
13
CHLOE
“ Miller ,” I say as I hurry to the table he is sitting at. I throw my purse over the chair that is designated for me.
My twin brother gets up from the table and opens his arms to me.
“Chloe.”
I step into his embrace, honestly surprised he’s hugging me. Miller Henry doesn’t enjoy affection, especially from me.
We never grew out of that sibling feud phase. Sure, we were two peas in a pod, but that was because of our other brother, Aaron. He was the silly putty that kept us together.
“Alright, that’s enough.” The pressure of his hug squeezes all the oxygen out of me. Miller drops his arms, stepping back to his high-top bar stool. “You smell.” Another reason not to be hugging him.
“Practice ran over, and I needed to pick up—” he can barely get out before a six-year-old sprints toward our table.
“Auntie! You’re here!” my favorite little man in the world says.
Kneeling, I open my arms, catching his uncoordinated limbs. Riley loops his wet hands around my neck and plants a sloppy kiss on my nose. “Muwah. Like Tucker!”
“Like Tucker. He told me this morning he’s excited to play with you.”
“Dogs can’t talk.”
I tickle his sides. “Maybe I speak dog.”
“Whoa.” His gray eyes, identical to mine and Miller’s, sparkle with amusement. “Can you teach me? ”
“Duh.”
“I haven’t seen my sister in over a year and my kid gets more excitement than me? What am I? Chump meat?”
“Not as cool,” I tell Miller, glancing up at him. “Plus, since when did a grump ever hug?” I stand, picking Riley up. “How is my most favorite dragon rider in the entire world doing?”
“I’m not a dragon rider, Auntie.” Riley corrects me with a huff.
“Coulda fooled me.” I lean into his ear, ratting out Miller. “Your dad told me you were.”
He about knocks his head into mine, turning to his dad. “ Dad! You promised you weren’t going to tell anyone.”
“Chloe isn’t anyone.”
After Callum left my apartment on Sunday, my brother called that afternoon to tell me he was moving to Chicago—the following weekend (I’m smiling, I promise). I spent the week after work touring the apartments he sent me. Ridiculous high rises with stunning views that you can only afford on his seven-figure hockey contract.
Miller plays center for the Chicago Wildcats, and from the looks of it, this off-season and injury rehab has done him some good—not just physically, but mentally too. I haven’t seen him even attempt a smile in years.
Not that I’ve seen him much in the past nine years.
We’re twins. Both with mops of almost black hair—he claims brown, I prefer black—and gray eyes from our dad. Our matching bronzed skin is from our mother. Miller has far less freckles and tattoos than I do. That’s how they told us apart as toddlers—freckles, not tattoos.
The freckles are from Mom, and I love that I’m the only one out of the three of us that inherited them.
After last season with Boston and an injury that they didn’t know if he would recover from, they traded him to Chicago.
When the news broke, people were devastated, Miller included. He’s been playing with them since he was drafted out of college, and as a single parent, moving and transitioning teams wasn’t going to be easy.
Our parents live in Boston and helped with Riley.
“Riley, come here.” Dad mode on.
The kid jumps down from my arms and sulks over to his dad. “ Yeah? ”
“We need to order when the waitress comes back. Can you sit in this chair and tell me what you want?”
“Do they have chicken tenders?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you climb up and we can find out.” He pats the chair next to his.
“Okay!” Riley squeals cheerfully. Miller helps give Riley a boost when he can’t get into the high-top chair. Opening the crayon set that came with the kids’ menu, he rolls them to Riley.
I observe my brother closely. I don’t get to see this side of him often. Watching his games on TV, he's ruthless and focused when he’s on the ice. Complete opposite to the tender person sitting across from me.
He’s such a good dad, even with the cards he’s been dealt. The unconditional love and care he has for Riley is admirable. Whenever he decides to settle down, he will make some girl the luckiest in the world.
“Chloe, what are you going to get?”
“Caesar salad and fries,” I tell him. Miller rolls his eyes. “What?”
“Do you need an espresso martini to go with that?”
“Nope, Diet Coke.”
“You are so basic.”
“Yeah? Then why are you going to order the same thing?”
***
Riley devours his tenders, pretending they are dragons flying through the air before biting them.
I scoot my chair closer to Miller’s.
“How are you holding up ?
He nods his head, rubbing his lips together. “This week has been draining. He doesn’t understand the move, and I’m struggling to figure out school and a nanny for him.”
“Do you need one right now?”
“Practice starts in a month.”
“So you have time?”
“I don’t, Chloe. I’m juggling too much. Taking care of Riley, unpacking, ice and gym time. There’s too much.”
“How can I help?”
“You can’t help.”
“Mills—”
“ What, Chloe? You haven’t been there, and you think because I’m now in the city you ran off to it magically makes everything better. You are going to be there now ?”
I butt in, “Yes, Miller. I’m here now.”
He laughs off my admission.
“I know you’re mad at me.”
“I’m not mad, Chloe. That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
“I miss him too, you know that? You weren’t the only one affected.” My throat goes dry. Any response choked right out of me by the grasp of old memories.
My giggles are contagious. They get louder the faster my legs pump. “You can’t catch me, Aaron.”
His legs are longer than mine. Aaron is ten, I’m eight.
Mom says I’m tall for my age, though. Taller than Miller. I think that’s why he pulls my hair.
Aaron catches up to me as I go flying forward, tripping over someone else’s skate. He breaks my fall, not letting me land on the frozen pond in our backyard.
“Are you okay?” He checks me out for bumps and bruises. I like having an older brother. Aaron is the best brother and my best friend, outside of Adler, of course .
Adler is my friend, but she likes Miller. I saw them swap cooties under the kitchen table last week.
“You caught me, silly. I’m fine.” I stare up at my hero.
Aaron helps me stand, making sure I’m balanced on the thin blades before turning to Miller. “What the heck, dude?” That is his word of the month. Aaron calls Miller dude all the time now.
“Maybe she should watch out where she’s going. I thought you taught her how to skate. She sucks.”
I pump my arms down at my side, balling my gloved hands into fists. “I do not.”
“You do too.” He glares at me.
I think Miller is jealous that Aaron taught me how to skate. Aaron and Miller both play hockey, and I wanted to join. Dad surprised me with a pair of skates for my birthday three years ago. Aaron helped teach me before I started lessons.
“You don’t suck,” Aaron tells me. “You are great at skating, Chloe.”
I stick my tongue out at Miller.
Miller groans. “You’re always protecting her.”
“She’s our sister. We are supposed to protect her.”
“Of course, no response from dear ole’ sis.” Miller’s voice snaps me out of the memory.
“I-I-I’m sorry,” I stutter over the words. Rolling my shoulders back, I sit up straighter. Swallowing down the truth of why I ran, that if Miller really knew, he’d actually hate me; not this fabricated story I’ve concocted in my head. “I’m here now, and I want to help. I’ll talk to my boss about working from home a few days a week. Or if you can move your training sessions to the afternoon, I can be there then.”
Miller stares at me, tossing around my offer better than this Caesar is tossed.
“Please, Mills.”
“Okay.”
I smile softly. “I missed you,” I admit truthfully, resting a hand on his arm.
“I missed you too.”
“I missed you most!” Riley chimes in.