7. Chapter 7 #2
“We’ll pick up something on our way home,” Charlie said, of course already planning ahead.
“Alright,” Ethan said.
“And hurry up. We don’t have that long of a window before Avery has practice and Livvy’s gotta be at the airport.” Charlie shot him one more look, designed to get Ethan moving.
It worked—but only because Ethan was actually exciting to finally talk to all his siblings at the same fucking time.
It was always a little chaotic, but it was a mess that was their mess.
He had hoped to at least catch Hank for a second before Charlie dragged him off, but when Ethan looked around the changing room, Hank was already gone.
Huffing out a frustrated breath, he finally went trailing after Charlie, who was moving with determination through the various hallways towards the parking lot.
“What’s up with you?” Charlie asked as he pulled out into traffic. “Grab my phone, will you? Get the sandwiches from the place we like.”
“Nothing,” Ethan said, aware he didn’t sound all that convincing. “Just feeling it today.”
“Put the order in,” Charlie reminded him, even though Ethan had already grabbed his phone, typing in his brother’s passcode.
Hank had once asked him how he’d known that Charlie and Max hadn’t done anything and weren’t just keeping it a secret from everyone, and Ethan had told him how he had his brother’s passcode, and as he drove them everywhere, Charlie was always directing him to look something up or do something on his phone.
If he had, I’d know it, Ethan said.
Sure enough, as Ethan was finishing up the sandwich order, the phone in his hands vibrated with an incoming text from Max. Everyone else—besides Ethan, Avery, Livvy, and their parents—was silenced. But Max was the one notable exception. One of many, really.
But this message wasn’t even anything special. Just a stupid picture of Max’s socked feet propped up on the worn-out coffee table in the break room, a plate piled with two peanut butter and honey sandwiches—Max’s favorite pregame snack—balanced on his knees.
“Max is so stupid, and you’re even stupider,” Ethan muttered, flicking the message away.
“That’s unfair,” Charlie retorted.
“But true,” Ethan insisted darkly.
“Oh, yeah, because you’re not being your own brand of stupid about Tuck?” Charlie asked pointedly.
Ethan looked out the window, not willing to discuss this with him. With anyone, really.
He should’ve known better that Charlie would leave it alone, though, because Charlie was incapable of leaving anything alone.
He picked at everything, like an itchy kind of scab, usually until it was bleeding again.
And then he’d claim that was good, because the blood cleaned out the old shit, or something.
But he was wrong.
Ethan and Charlie were in the living room, crammed together on the couch, Charlie’s laptop open in front of them.
Avery had clearly just woken up, his dark hair a messy tangle against a hotel room pillow.
Livvy was on the way to the airport for one of the Sea Monsters’ games, her blue eyes flicking over to the screen every once in a while, her blond ponytail brushing her cheek as she turned her head to check her blind spot before she changed lanes in the horrendous Seattle traffic.
“You guys are gonna be fine,” Avery was saying. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more. “It’s just preseason.”
“I know,” Charlie said, sounding annoyed that Avery was still talking about the Bandits’ previous three losses. “We’re close to putting it together.”
“Niko’s looking good,” Livvy added, probably unaware of how loaded of a comment that was.
Next to Ethan, who was currently shoveling turkey and swiss into his mouth, Charlie tensed up.
“Yeah,” Avery said. More carefully. Maybe Charlie had talked to him about how he thought Niko might take Tuck’s spot. Or maybe Avery had figured that out on his own.
“What?” Livvy asked distractedly. “Why did everyone just freak out?”
“You should be paying more attention to the road,” Ethan said, after swallowing. The food suddenly tasted a little like ash in his mouth.
“You can bullshit Charlie all you want to”—Livvy’s comment was interrupted by Charlie making an offended noise—“but I know you better than that, Eth. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Ethan muttered. He really didn’t want to talk about Tuck. Even if he scored today—even if they both scored today—it wasn’t going to change much. Not anything that really mattered.
“Ethan’s boyfriend is gonna get back down to Syracuse ’cause Niko’s tearing it up,” Charlie said.
Ethan elbowed him hard in the ribs. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Though the idea of that being true and not just a figment of his imagination resonated through his insides in a very pleasant way.
“Wait, what,” Livvy said, sounding surprised. “You got Tuck, Eth?”
“Ha, no.” Ethan tried chuckling about it, but it didn’t come out all that convincing.
“He could still be your boyfriend, even if he was in Syracuse to start the season,” Avery said gently.
And Ethan knew he meant well. Knew that all three of them meant well, but he kinda wanted them all to shut the fuck up, please.
“Yeah, he could be, but he’s not,” Ethan retorted.
“Niko’s kind of famously hot and cold. He’ll slide back to the other side of the spectrum,” Avery said. Trying to be nice, still. He was better at it than Charlie, at least, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t obvious as hell about it.
“Sure,” Ethan said. “It’s really fine, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Livvy said gently. And then because she might be the best of them all, she changed the subject. “You guys hear that we’re sharing an arena with a PWHL team this year?”
“Oh yeah?” Avery said warmly. He was maybe the second best of them.
Charlie? The fucking worst.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Livvy said.
“You ever wish you were still playing?” Charlie asked, because as previously stated, he was the worst.
“Fucking Charlie, be nice,” Ethan groused. “You should be playing, still.”
Livvy just chuckled. Not sounding bothered at all. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment, Eth.”
“You should. You’re a great coach, sure, but you were a fucking killer player,” Avery chimed in. Charlie just flopped back on the couch, sulking.
Livvy just shrugged. “I don’t know. I do miss it sometimes, and there’s a part of me that’s like, I’m not that old—”
“Not even,” Charlie protested, finally deciding to redeem himself.
“I’m just saying, I could probably try out if I really wanted to, but I don’t think I really want to,” Livvy confessed. “I’m happy on the bench. Even if I have to deal with all your fucking fart jokes and your inability to think of two or more things at once.” Her voice went all teasing at the end.
“We sure prepared you good for coaching guys,” Avery pointed out, laughing. “Especially those two assholes.” He pointed at the screen, right at Ethan and Charlie.
“I’m way too mature for fart jokes,” Charlie sniffed. Like he wasn’t twenty-three and the last time Danny had let one rip in the locker room, he hadn’t been laughing right along with the rest of them.
“Oh sure,” Avery said. “I’ll believe that when it actually happens.”
Charlie glanced down at his phone, clearly distracted by whatever new stupid thing Max had sent him.
“How’s your preseason going?” Livvy asked Avery, trying to keep the call on its positive trajectory before it devolved, like it almost always did, into a bunch of muttered-slash-yelled insults.
“Fine,” Avery said, but he didn’t sound like it actually was fine.
Ethan pushed aside his own selfish worries—about Hank and the bet and what would happen to Hank at the beginning of the season—and focused on his eldest brother.
“Doesn’t sound like it’s going fine,” Livvy said gently, speaking up before Ethan could ask.
Ethan nudged Charlie’s leg, and Charlie even leaned forward, setting his phone on the coffee table, face down.
“Just . . . the GM keeps harassing me about my contract.”
“It’s not up til the end of the year,” Charlie said, frowning. “And even then you’re a restricted free agent.”
“He wants me to promise I’m gonna re-sign with the Mavericks,” Avery said.
A weird quiet fell. Ethan hated it. “You would, right?” he asked.
But Avery just shrugged. “I don’t know. Some days I want to. Other days . . .” He trailed off and looked away.
“They’re gonna find you a partner that you’re worthy of,” Livvy said warmly. “It’s all I hear people talking about.”
Ethan didn’t think that was necessarily true. The media also spent a fuck ton of time obsessing over whether the three Barnes brothers would ever play together on the same team.
It had reached a fever pitch this offseason, and Ethan was pretty sure it was because of Avery’s contract and then also that he and Charlie were going to play together. If they’d been on three separate teams, he had a feeling that the media wouldn’t have latched on to the idea of it so tightly.
“No, it’s not,” Charlie retorted. “But that’s nice, Livvy. Thanks for reminding us that you’re the best of us.”
“I shouldn’t have ever said anything about it,” Avery grumbled, frowning. “Should’ve declared, early on, like Livvy did when she told everyone who asked that she wasn’t going to go out of her way to coach any of us.”
“That was just self-preservation,” Livvy teased softly. “You three would give me nightmares and age me prematurely.”
“Probably,” Ethan agreed.
“You shouldn’t let the GM push you,” Charlie said.
“Agreed,” Ethan said. “If you wanna stay there, that’s one thing. But if you don’t, that’s okay too.”
“He keeps arguing that if I won’t re-sign, he needs to get something for me,” Avery said. He didn’t sound happy. “And maybe he’s not wrong.”
“That’s not your responsibility, though,” Livvy pointed out, very reasonably.
“Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Avery said, pasting a smile on his face that didn’t look legit. An artificial note in his voice.