22. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GIANNA
The first NCAA tournament game feels different before it even starts.
Not because Toledo is glamorous. It isn’t.
Not because the arena is bigger than Camden’s. It isn’t, really.
It feels different because everybody here knows exactly what happens if they lose.
There is no selection committee waiting on Sunday. No ranking left to save them. No second game guaranteed because of a best-of-three format.
If Denver wins, the team comes home.
If Camden wins, they keep going.
I know all of that before we even leave for Ohio and somehow knowing it does not make me calmer. It makes me pack like an insane person.
By Wednesday night, I have three Camden sweatshirts spread across my bed, two pairs of jeans, a dress I absolutely do not need, enough underwear for nearly a week, and four different chargers tangled together near my pillow.
Lucy stands in my doorway and watches me take a sweatshirt out of my duffel bag, stare at it, then put it right back in.
“You know we’re not moving, right?”
I sigh. “I know.”
She leans against the doorframe, smiling a little. “You’ve packed everything you own, G.”
I look down at the bed. She’s right. Half of this is ridiculous. I don’t need three sweatshirts. I definitely don’t need the dress. There is absolutely no reason for four chargers to be coming with me.
I sit down on the edge of the mattress and exhale. “I’m freaking out.”
The smile leaves Lucy’s face. She comes into the room and sits beside me without saying anything. For a second, I just stare at the pile of clothes.
“This is it,” I say. My throat tightens immediately. “This is Benson’s dream.” And saying it out loud makes the entire thing feel real in a way packing apparently didn’t.
“He has wanted this forever,” I explain.
“Like actually forever. I remember him being a kid and talking about playing college hockey. Then it was getting recruited. Then it was Camden. Then it was being captain. Then getting drafted. And now they’re in the NCAA tournament and every game could take them closer to…
” I stop and laugh once, because my voice is already starting to go. “I don’t even know. Everything.”
Lucy’s eyes soften. “I know.”
I turn toward her quickly. “I know you do. I don’t mean that like you don’t understand him. You do. Probably better than anybody now.” I swallow. “I mean I’ve just watched him do this my whole life.”
Lucy nods.
“I’ve watched him wake up at stupid hours for practice.
I’ve watched him miss things because he had hockey.
I’ve watched him be pissed off for two days over games nobody else remembers.
My parents built entire weekends around rinks.
I sat in freezing arenas with snacks and homework and complained about how long everything took. ”
A tear slips down my cheek before I even realize I’m crying. I wipe it away and laugh under my breath.
“I’m being so stupid.”
“You’re not,” she whispers.
“No, I know.” I look down at my hands. “It’s just hitting me now.”
Lucy puts her hand over mine.
I squeeze it.
“I think I kept thinking there would always be another season,” I say.
“Another schedule. Another Friday night where we all know where we’re going.
Another game for Benson. Another weekend at Hawthorne where everybody ends up there afterward.
” My chest hurts. “And now it feels like we’re getting to the end, and that’s terrifying. ”
Lucy is quiet beside me.
I look around my room, at my Camden sweatshirts, the chargers, and the bag open on the floor.
“This isn’t just about my brother anymore.”
That is the part that breaks me. I cover my mouth for a second and try to breathe through it.
“It was supposed to be his thing,” I say once I can talk again. “Camden was Benson’s. Hockey was Benson’s. Hawthorne was Benson’s house with Benson’s friends.”
Lucy’s grip tightens around my hand.
I swallow, feeling the first tear fall on my cheek. “And now I love all of them.”
My chest tightens, and my eyes fill with water, and it doesn’t stop. I laugh through the tears because I hate crying when I’m trying to explain something.
“I love Percy being weird and quiet. I love Stanley driving everybody insane. I love Blue pretending he doesn’t care about anything when he obviously does. I love Melly and Mara and Aspen and Penelope being there every weekend. I love you.”
Lucy’s eyes fill.
“And I love Rowan so much that it scares me.”
Lucy turns toward me fully.
I wipe another tear away. “So yeah. I’m freaking out because Benson has worked his entire life for this, and Rowan has worked his entire life for this, and somewhere along the way I stopped being the little sister who got dragged to hockey games.” My voice breaks. “This became mine too.”
Lucy’s face crumples a little. She pulls me into her. I go immediately. We sit there on the edge of my bed, holding onto each other while I cry into her shoulder.
“I know, G,” she says quietly. “I know.”
I pull back after a minute and wipe under my eyes. “This is embarrassing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“I’m crying over a hockey tournament.”
“You’re crying because you love people.” Lucy smiles through her own tears.
“This is your team too,” she says. “Benson is your brother. Rowan is your person. These guys are our best friends. Hawthorne is basically our home. We’re all tied up in it now.”
I nod.
She squeezes my hand. “We’re a family.”
My vision blurs again.
I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah.”
Lucy smiles. “Yeah.”
I look down at the ridiculous amount of stuff on my bed. Then back at her. I exhale, “We’re going to Toledo.”
She nods. “We are.”
“They’re going to win,” I say with confidence.
“That’s the plan.”
I wipe my face with both hands and take a breath. “Okay.”
Lucy reaches over and removes one of the Camden sweatshirts from my pile. “You still do not need three of these.”
I grab it back. “Don’t touch my emotional-support sweatshirts.”
That makes her laugh.
And I laugh, too.
The morning we leave, Rowan texts me before seven.
Rowan: You awake?
Me: No.
Rowan: Okay.
Me: Why do you always accept that!?
Rowan: Thought you were sleeping.
Me: I’m awake, Rowan.
Rowan: Okay.
I smile into my pillow.
Me: When do you leave?
Rowan: 9.
Me: When do I see you?
There is a longer pause before he answers.
Rowan: Tonight probably.
Rowan: Family window after dinner.
I read that twice.
Me: Okay.
Rowan: Yeah.
That one word does something to me now that I know him better. With Rowan, yeah can mean I agree, I know, I want that too, I’m nervous, I don’t know what else to say, please stop asking me before I say something stupid. I have learned the difference.
By the time we get to Toledo, I’m tired. The team is staying somewhere else because of tournament logistics. The rest of us are spread between two hotels depending on who booked what first.
Mara opens the door to our room, looks around, and says, “This is aggressively beige.”
“It’s a hotel.”
“They could try.”
Lucy drops her bag near the window. “I’m not letting either of you complain about free breakfast tomorrow.”
“I would never,” I scoff.
Mara looks at me. “You absolutely would.”
I ignore her and check my phone. Nothing from Rowan. Five minutes later, I check again. Still nothing.
Mara watches me. “Do you want me to take your phone away?”
“No.”
“You’ve looked at it twelve times.”
“Stop counting.”
She watches me. “You’re so anxious.” She sits on the end of the bed opposite mine. “Do you want me to distract you?”
I like that idea. “With what?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I could start a fight.”
I almost laugh. “Don’t start one with me,” I warn.
She laughs. “I meant generally.”
That gets a laugh out of me.
By six, Rowan finally texts.
Rowan: Lobby at 7:40.
Me: Our lobby?
Rowan: Mine.
Me: Right.
Rowan: I assumed you knew.
The family window is exactly as chaotic as Rowan warned me it would be.
There are parents, siblings, girlfriends, grandparents, kids running between chairs, staff moving through without ever really stopping, and about forty people pretending none of us are checking the clock every three minutes because everybody knows this is temporary.
Rowan is near the far wall when I walk in. He sees me immediately, and it’s still one of my favorite things. There can be an entire room between us, and somehow his eyes find me first.
I smile before I get close enough to say anything.
He meets me halfway. “What’s up, G?”
I grin. I love hearing him say that. I put my arms around his waist, and he hugs me hard enough that I can feel the tension in him even before he says anything.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
I pull back just enough to see his face. “That was a real yeah?”
He smiles slightly. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” I say, pinching his ribs lightly.
His hands stay at my waist.
I ask, “What did you do today?”
He answers, “Practice. Meetings. Video.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“Chicken.”
I stare at him. “And rice?”
He laughs. “It’s food.”
“I will never look at chicken and rice the same.”
He smiles again.
Around us, everybody is talking too loudly, and nobody has enough personal space. Benson is across the room with Lucy and our parents. Stanley is being hugged by three people at once. Penelope is talking and kissing Percy every other word.
I look back at Rowan.
He catches my hand and pulls me closer. “Stay until they kick us out.”
I kiss him. “Okay.”
The next day, Denver scores first. And I hate them immediately. It’s not personal, but it feels personal. The entire game feels sharper than anything before it because there is no room for the idea of later. No series. No redemption tomorrow.
Camden gets one back before the end of the first period. Stanley scored. I look at Aspen, and she’s unfazed. Then Denver takes the lead again early in the second period, and she’s screaming.
2-1.
I spend the entire middle of the game with my hands wrapped around the sleeves of my sweatshirt.
Mara notices, so she grabs my hands. “I know, G.”