Chapter Ten
Ten
For Casey and Wyatt dinner was pretty slapdash most nights. When one of them was motivated to boil pasta or heat soup or microwave leftovers, they usually made enough for the other. Often Casey picked up takeout for them on her way home, and sometimes it was just every man for himself. So when she walked into their kitchen Friday evening and was greeted by the unmistakable smell of home cooking, she was a little shocked. Wyatt wore his leg braces and stood propped against the counter while he monitored pots and pans on the stove. He was stirring something with one hand and leaning on one of his canes with the other.
She sniffed the air. “What is that?”
“Chicken parm.”
After she hung up her jacket and kicked off her boots she stood beside him at the stove. It was easy to forget Wyatt was so tall, close to six feet, like their dad had been. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just felt like cooking.”
She wasn’t sure she bought that. He was going to a lot of trouble on a random night. “Okay. What can I do?”
“You can set the table. How was the scrimmage?” He leaned all his weight against the counter and used pot holders to lift the boiling pasta off a burner.
“It was good.” Casey pulled her hands into tense fists while she watched him slowly twist his upper body and maneuver the pot toward the sink while keeping his balance. If she offered to help he’d get annoyed, so she stayed quiet. After he managed to pour the contents into the strainer she breathed again and started setting the table. “I mean, we lost. But not by nearly as much as last time.”
“Kyle’s already having an effect, huh?”
“I guess so.” Honestly, he was for sure, and after only three practices. The boys had responded well to his little take-charge speech in the gym Tuesday, and during that first practice they seemed to sense he knew what he was doing. They followed all his directions to the letter while he broke them up into groups for small area games—corner drills, keep-away, give and go. He was quiet that day, skating slow circles around the rink and watching them, blowing a whistle every so often to shuffle players around. It was obvious to Casey he was taking stock of the team, and it was just as obvious the team wanted to impress him.
Wyatt dished food onto serving plates. He was going all out.
Casey carried the plates to the table. “Angie stopped by the rink. But that was more about laying eyes on Kyle than watching the game. It’s the first time she’s seen him since he got back.”
Wyatt dropped into his wheelchair and removed his braces. “How’d that go?”
“Frosty.” Angie had said hello to Kyle after the game and asked about Danny, but she didn’t return the “Good to see you” he offered her, and she answered all his questions about her and Todd and the girls in as few flat words as possible.
Casey poured two cans of beer into tall glasses in keeping with Wyatt’s dinner presentation, and they both took their seats at the table. She held up her glass. “Thanks for all this,” she said, gesturing toward the dinner spread. “Cheers.”
He clinked her glass with his and took a sip. “I wanted to talk to you about something…”
Casey cut into her chicken and figured they were getting to the reason behind all this effort.
“Mike asked me to go to Boston this weekend.”
She stopped cutting.
“I know it’s last minute, but he’s been bugging me to get out there for months, to see the new store. If I don’t go now, it’ll mean waiting until spring.”
“What’s the weather doing in Boston?” If it was raining or snowing Wyatt would have a hell of a time getting around.
“It’s nice, cold but sunny the next few days. And I can stay with Mike, which would make things easy.” He drank some of his beer. “Eat up or it’ll get cold.”
She obeyed and took a couple of bites, tried to tamp down her concern. Wyatt had made the trip to Boston on his own before a few times, to visit his boss and the rest of their small crew in person, spend a couple days team-building and brainstorming. Wyatt’s work was so solitary most of the time, and she knew he looked forward to these trips. But she worried about him traveling alone, navigating a busy city, having to rely on strangers’ kindness at times. She worried about him being so vulnerable.
He lowered his fork to his plate. “I booked a plane ticket, but it’s refundable, and it’s not necessary for me to go now, Casey. I know you have a lot going on. If you prefer I stay home I can put it off. Seriously.”
It hit her then that he was worried about going too, but for a very different reason. He was worried about leaving his forty-year-old sister alone. “No, no. You just surprised me,” she said, trying to clear her expression of any concern. “You should go. Will Julia be there?”
His face went pink. “Yeah.” He picked up his fork again. “Would you please eat the dinner I made for you?”
She didn’t say any more about it. Julia handled customer service for the store, worked the showroom, and took orders. She and Wyatt had a lot of business calls, and Casey had met her once over Zoom. She was bubbly and funny, with long blond hair and a delicate ring in her nose. Casey had overheard enough here and there to know there was some flirting going on. Where could it really go—Julia lived in Boston—but it would do him good to get away for a few days. Wyatt had friends in Potsdam, guys he’d gone to high school with, and they hung out sometimes. But not as much as they used to since most of them were married now, some with kids.
“What time do we need to leave for the airport tomorrow?” she asked.
“That’s okay, I’ll get the shuttle.”
“I don’t mind driving you.”
“Well, it’s been snowing, and I mind you driving bad roads.”
She knew better than to argue.
“I’ll be back Tuesday,” he said. “In time to help with Thanksgiving prep.”
Thanksgiving. She’d managed to avoid thinking about it much. Being around Kyle at practice, amid the kids and activity, was one thing. A family dinner was something else entirely.
“Are you nervous about seeing Kyle again?” she asked Wyatt.
He winced. “I’ve already seen him. He’s been coming over to the shop in the afternoons.”
“What? Since when?”
“All week.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about it. I don’t know how I feel about it. We don’t talk much, he shows up, and I give him something to do. But it’s like he needs it. Maybe it’s the break from Danny, or working with his hands.”
Casey turned to look out the window above the sink, toward the shop. Where her brother and Kyle had apparently been spending time together. Like the old days.
“Do you mind?” Wyatt asked, looking like he expected a verbal lashing.
She sort of felt like giving him one— Why are you letting him back in? —but that wasn’t fair. Wyatt had always had his own relationship with Kyle, a close one, and he took it hard when Kyle left. If they were coming to some kind of peace with it, that was a good thing.
“No,” she said. “It’s okay.” But it felt like Kyle was quietly infiltrating the careful world she’d built for herself the last two and a half years. Asking for her help with Danny, becoming part of the team, reconnecting with Wyatt. Some of it wasn’t conscious on his part. It wasn’t his fault she had to take a steadying breath when she saw him lacing up his old skates—the left one first, an old superstition from his game days—or that it was hard to look away while he moved on the ice. But, intentional or not, he kept catching her unaware.
“Are you sure?” Wyatt asked.
“Yes.”
“Then would you please eat your food?”
She stabbed a forkful of salad, held it up to him, and put it in her mouth.
“Thank you,” he said.
Star slunk out from under the table, headed to her water bowl in the corner for a drink. Then she sat straight up, staring at them, a subtle reminder she hadn’t had her own dinner yet.
“I suppose Star’s warmed up to him again,” Casey said.
Star tilted her head, tall ears twitching at the sound of her name.
“Nope,” Wyatt said. “She ignores him.”
When Casey looked at Star and said, “Huh,” Star’s head tilted the other way.
Then something occurred to Casey. “Has Kyle come in the house?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Won’t even walk near it, like there’s a kryptonite force field around it.”
Casey let her eyes wander around the room. None of it had changed since he left. Same furniture, same pictures on the walls… She scanned the tall built-in hutch with glass doors that took up most of the wall between the kitchen and living room. It had always been Casey’s favorite part of the house, the centerpiece of the living space. It still displayed a profusion of family mementos: photos of her parents, childhood keepsakes, the model of the house ten-year-old Wyatt had made for their mother, two framed newspaper clippings from when Danny had been hailed as a hero after fighting certain fires. And, front and center, the rich mahogany box Wyatt made years ago for Casey and Kyle. If Kyle ever did come in the house, it would be like stepping back in time. She sighed. “I guess he’s afraid of the bad memories.”
“Actually,” Wyatt said, “I think he’s afraid of the good ones.”
It was a strange thing being home without Wyatt. Casey had lived with her brother her entire life. He’d been sleeping out in his shop for fifteen years, but it was just across the yard, and he took most of his meals in the house. At the least she saw him every day. He’d had a few girlfriends along the way and spent some nights at their places. In the last few years there were these occasional trips to Boston. But for the most part he was always around.
She let herself text him only twice: Saturday afternoon, to make sure he landed safely in Boston, and Sunday morning, to send him a picture of a forlorn-looking Star staring out the window toward his shop. Her caption read: Someone misses you. His response— Naturally —made her smile. She was tempted to ask questions, make sure all was going well, but he didn’t like it when she worried about him. Of course, it didn’t stop him from worrying about her. He sent a screenshot Sunday afternoon of the Potsdam weather forecast, which was calling for freezing rain. His way of telling her to be careful. And she knew he would probably locate her iPhone using the Find My app at night to make sure she made it home. They’d always been on the same family account, and though some people might find it overstepping, they both used the app to find each other if there was any cause for concern. They’d been orphaned too young, and it was a quick way to achieve a little peace of mind.
She kept herself occupied all weekend. Saturday she covered one of Danny’s shifts at the food pantry, which was especially busy this time of year. A considerable number of donations were collected and distributed in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, and the bitter winter months were coming on. In an isolated town known for its snow and ice storms, many families counted on the pantry to supplement food stamps or help them through crisis situations. Sunday she volunteered at the annual Trade a Blade hockey swap, helping families find workable gear for the upcoming season. Several team dads told her how excited they were to have Kyle coaching. Many of them had grown up playing hockey, dreaming about going to state against a big suburban school, and Kyle had achieved that. It didn’t stop them from offering unsolicited advice— Tell him Will’s gotta work on back-checking so we can force some turnovers. We’d stop giving up so many goals if the defenders learned to pinch at the blue line. Can we get our wingers to stop shooting at the goalie’s breadbasket? She had nodded and listened as they offered suggestions she would not bother to pass on to Kyle. It was good to see them excited about the season.
Just as she sat down at the kitchen table Sunday night to grade geography tests, she heard a car pull up outside. Guessing it was Angie stopping by to check on her, she headed to the front door, Star following close behind. But when she opened the door Angie’s minivan wasn’t sitting there. It was a big black SUV, and it was parked at an odd angle, the front driver’s side tire resting on the lawn.
Casey felt everything in her slump as Jake waved to her through the windshield with a sloppy smile on his face. After she and Star stepped onto the porch she closed the door, preempting any move on his part to come inside. Then she glanced next door and across the road, hoping no one else had noticed his arrival.
Jake stepped out of his car. “Hey, Casey,” he said, his voice louder than it needed to be. “I was hoping you’d be home.”
She crossed her arms against the cold and walked down the stairs. “Hi, Jake. What are you doing here?” she asked, letting some irritation slip into that question.
He swung his door shut and swayed a bit on the gravel. “I thought I’d take a chance, see if you were around.”
“Doesn’t really look like you should be driving.”
“I’m fine. I only had a couple beers at McDuff’s.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and brought his shoulders up by his ears. “Sure is cold out here.”
She nodded but otherwise ignored the hint for an invite to come inside.
He gazed at her with glassy eyes that were indicative of more than a couple of beers. “You look really good, Casey.”
“Jake…” She shook her head.
He put out a hand. “Hold on a minute…” He spun around, had to steady himself, then grabbed something from his back seat. “I got this for you in Key West.” He handed her a floral gift bag.
She reached in and pulled out a thin wooden box with a clear lid. Inside was a multistrand necklace of delicate pastel beads. She cringed on the inside. He’d obviously spent a lot of money on it. “It’s really nice, but I can’t take it.” She pushed it his way.
“No, no. I want you to have it.” He pushed it back and stepped toward her.
Casey felt Star move close to her leg and stand at attention.
“I saw it and thought of you,” he said, softening his voice. “I thought about you a lot on my trip.”
“I’m sorry, Jake. I should have been clearer that night in your office…”
“Casey,” he said, placing his hands on her arms, “just hear me out. I was thinking we should give it a shot—give us a shot. We could be really good together, you know?”
She dropped her head, wanting to tell him to leave. But she couldn’t let him drive in this condition.
“I think I could make you happy if you gave me a chance,” Jake said. “I know you’re so sad all the time. What you went through—”
“STOP.” She drilled her eyes into his. “Not another fucking word.”
He blinked, and his mouth fell open at her outburst.
“Get in my truck. I’ll drive you home.” She tried to step away from him.
But he held on, ignoring Star’s low growl. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry. I just meant that I think you deserve so much. You’re smart and funny and kind…”
Another voice called out from the darkness behind Jake. “Hey!”
Casey looked up to see Kyle coming at them fast, his hands clenched into fists. “Kyle, wait,” she said. “I got this—”
“Take your hands off her,” he said. He charged up and stepped right between them, forcing Jake to stumble backward and fall to the ground. Then he stood over Jake. “What the hell are you doing, Renner?”
Jake pulled himself up to a sitting position.
Casey crouched next to him. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” He brushed gravel from the palms of his hands.
She shot Kyle an irritated look.
He spread his arms. “What?”
“That wasn’t necessary,” she said, tugging on Jake’s arm to help him up.
“It looked pretty fucking necessary to me.”
Jake was about on his feet when he staggered and fell again, almost taking Casey with him.
“Watch out,” Kyle said. He waved Casey aside and thrust a hand down toward Jake, who gripped it and allowed Kyle to pull him up.
Next door the porch light went on. “Everything okay over there?” Mrs. Foley asked.
“Oh, God,” Casey mumbled, bringing a hand to her head.
“We’re good,” Kyle called back to her. “Nothing to worry about.”
“That you, Jake Renner?” Mrs. Foley asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you aware you parked that big rig on their front lawn?”
Jake checked out his parking job. “I see that now.”
“You’re not gonna let him drive home, are you, Casey?” Mrs. Foley asked.
“Nope.”
Mrs. Foley nodded and turned to go back inside. Then she paused. “Sure is nice to have you home, Kyle.”
He gave her a wave before she disappeared into her house, leaving the three of them alone.
“I heard you were back in town,” Jake said to Kyle.
“Yeah, I’m back in town.”
Jake looked to Casey. “Is he why you won’t talk to me?”
Then Kyle turned to her, his eyes dropped to the gift bag she still held in her hand, and she saw it in his furrowed brow. He was wondering just what was going on between her and Jake. Right then she wanted the earth to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole.
“Get in the Bronco, Jake,” she said, walking over to open the passenger door.
He eyed Kyle and hesitated, but then climbed in.
“What are you doing?” Kyle asked her. “I don’t think you should be alone with him.”
She tossed the bag on Jake’s lap and threw his door shut hard enough to make him jump when the anger hit her full force. She was so goddamn angry at this whole awkward situation. “ God ,” she yelled at Kyle. “Where did you even come from?”
“I saw headlights coming down the road,” he said. “Then I looked out and he was obviously drunk. I heard you yell”—he pointed at her—“then he put his hands on you, and I could tell you didn’t want them there.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Give me a break, Casey. You spend twenty years with someone, just because you get divorced doesn’t mean you unknow them.”
That’s what she was really angry about. He knew her too well. Even after being gone for years, he knew her inside and out. Even right then, his gaze and his stance were softening, like he could read her mind.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“It’s cold.” But he probably knew that was a lie too. She was shaking because this was all too much. His homecoming had started to unravel something in her, and she couldn’t pull it back together again.
She headed for the Bronco, where Jake sat watching them from the passenger seat. “Come on, Star,” she said. When Star didn’t come right away Casey turned to see she was standing beside Kyle.
He looked down in surprise and slowly lowered his hand toward her.
Star let his fingertips graze the top of her head before she took off after Casey.
“Casey, wait…” Kyle said. When she kept going he peered into Jake’s SUV. “His keys are in there—I’ll follow you.”
She didn’t respond, just opened the door, let Star jump up, and climbed into the driver’s seat. When she turned the key, the Bronco wouldn’t start. She tried again. Same thing.
Kyle had been loading up in Jake’s car, but he stopped at the sound of the cranking engine.
Casey tried a third time. No luck.
When Jake said, “You should get that checked out,” it was hard not to reach over and slap him.
Instead she took a deep breath and wrapped her hands around the steering wheel. Through the windshield she could see Kyle take a tentative step toward the Bronco. He was getting ready to pop the hood, try to fix it for her like he always used to.
She tightened her grip on the wheel. Please, please, please. Then she tried once more, and the Bronco started.
Twenty minutes later Casey heard the train horn long before she turned onto River Road, and she supposed this shitshow of a night wouldn’t be complete without an uncomfortable wait at the crossing with Kyle in her passenger seat. He had followed her to Jake’s big Cape Cod south of town. During the drive Jake apologized several times, and when she pulled up to his house he’d given her a sad smile and told her he wouldn’t bother her anymore, right before Kyle yanked open the passenger door and tossed Jake his keys. Jake had headed into his house without looking back.
She pulled up to the crossing and put the truck in park. They hadn’t said a word since Kyle climbed into the Bronco, but now that they’d stopped moving the silence felt heavier. She glanced over to see him looking out his window, shaking his head.
“Seriously, Casey? Jake Renner?”
It was none of his business, but she didn’t want to fight. She stared straight ahead, watched the boxcars roll by. “Don’t.”
“Can you at least tell me if you guys are a thing? So I don’t look like an idiot if everyone else in town knows.”
“There’s nothing to know. We’re not a thing.”
He sighed, took his hat off and scraped a hand through his hair. “Are you still good with Thanksgiving? If you’re not I can explain to Dad…”
“No, it’s fine.”
“I don’t suppose you’d let me look under the hood of this thing tomorrow.”
“No, thank you.”
To her relief the train passed, and she pulled forward. When she turned into his driveway she figured he’d hop out, as eager to end this night as she was, but he didn’t.
Star paced the back seat and let out a soft grumble, her way of asking what they were waiting for here. Casey was wondering the same thing.
But Kyle fiddled with his cap like he wasn’t ready to go yet. “Coach and I met some of the boys at the rink yesterday for a while,” he said. “Will, Ben, Logan, and the McKees.”
“Really?”
“We worked on some basics. Stickhandling, passing, and shooting. They’re the strongest on the team, I think if they can get a few things figured out, we’ll be in decent shape.”
“That’s what I thought. Ben’s good in goal, he just needs some training.”
“He’s fast, and has good instincts, but it’s like his brain hasn’t caught up to his body yet, so his positioning’s off. And he needs more help from the twin who plays D—can you tell those two apart?”
“Soren’s the defender, he has a dimple in his chin. Rory’s your right-winger, he has more freckles.”
“Good to know, they keep trying to play me. They’re both quick and strong, they can get to the puck…”
“They just can’t control it.”
He nodded. “Logan’s solid in defense.”
“If you can keep him out of the penalty box. Since his parents divorced he’s been getting into some trouble, especially for fighting.” She gave him a pointed look then— Sound familiar?
“Lucas and Sara split up?” He’d known them for years and wouldn’t have seen that coming. But he was willing to bet lots of people in town said that same thing about him and Casey. “That’s too bad,” he said, realizing he and Logan apparently had a lot in common at that age. “Will’s a natural, great hockey IQ—he really sees the ice. Moves the puck well, has good control. He could be a great center.”
“If he stops going for the slapshot every time?”
Kyle turned to her. “Who said you couldn’t coach?”
She waved that off.
“He’s a really nice kid,” he said. “Will.”
Casey’s chest tightened as she figured they were getting to what was really on his mind. And she knew what he was going to say before he actually said it.
His voice was almost a whisper. “He looks so much like Charlie.”
“I know,” she said, but didn’t dare look at him. When she saw his head drop in the periphery she turned to her window and discreetly used her right hand to pinch the webbing between her left thumb and index finger. She dug in with her fingernails as hard as she could, grinding them against each other through the skin. It was a trick she’d learned. Make the pain physical. It was easier, and when she let go there’d be momentary relief.
Kyle took a shaky breath, and in the reflection of her window she saw him drag a hand down his face.
She pinched harder. “I need to go home, Kyle.”
But he didn’t move, and when he spoke his voice cracked with emotion. “I miss him so much, Casey.”
“Me too.”
He reached out, as if to touch her arm or hand.
When she pulled against her door, as far away from him as she could get, Star whined and shifted in the back seat. “Please don’t,” she said.
His resigned sigh said it all, that he realized nothing had changed. They were both still the same people who couldn’t make it work before he left. Losing Charlie had created a chasm between them, and it was so dark and so wide and so bottomless they just couldn’t reach each other again. “Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you Thursday.” He pulled the door handle.
“Kyle, I appreciate your help tonight. Thank you.”
He nodded. “’Night, Casey.” He pushed the door open and stepped out, closing it behind him.
She stopped pinching herself then. But only because she needed both hands to drive.