5. Hendrix
HENDRIX
If you’re the best on the team, no one is challenging you to be better.
Find a better team.
—Declan Sinclair’s advice to his sons
“What are you guys doing now?” Leo asks as he throws on his shorts in front of his locker, hair still dripping from his shower.
“Not hanging with you idiots.” Ares shrugs on his shirt, grinning with the kind of enthusiasm that tells me no way in hell do I want to know what other plans he has for my sister.
“I’m going home. The kids won’t be back from school for another two hours, which means,”—his grin grows, and Nix and I gag—“I get Grace to myself.”
“Fuck. Stop,” Leo whines like a bitch.
“Dude. No,” Nix shakes his head as he bends down and ties his shoelaces. We’re barely a week into preseason practices, but we’ve already fallen into a manageable routine. “Nobody wants to hear about you banging our sister.”
Yeah . . . definitely didn’t need to know that. But they’re happy, so good for them.
“I mean,”—I can’t stop laughing—“they do have five kids, guys.”
We knew twins ran in the family. After all, Gracie and Everly are identical twins. And while they may not have married twins, they did marry brothers. We also have two sets of twin cousins, and Dad’s younger brother and sister are twins.
The key word in all of this is twins though.
None of us expected Grace and Ares to have twins, followed by triplets a few years later.
Nix and Leo’s eyes whip to me like I just committed a crime against the brotherhood.
Hell, I might have.
I struggle day-to-day with one kid, and he’s easy. Bodhi was a happy baby, and he’s an even happier toddler. He doesn’t talk much, but the doctor said that’s not uncommon. He can speak and does speak when he wants to. He just doesn’t want to as much as my nieces and nephews.
“Just do me a favor and let me get Bodhi out of your house first,” I warn and pull my vibrating phone from my pocket. Great. Another missed call from Melissa.
“Everything okay?” Ares asks as he eyes me cautiously.
No one gives my brother-in-law credit for how observant he is. He’s always been considered the easygoing Wilder brother. The fighter on the team. The jokester in real life. He’s a hell of a good husband and father, but outside of that, he’s not exactly known for taking life too seriously.
I call bullshit though.
He can be serious when it’s needed.
Like the way he’s looking at me now, concerned. “Bodhi?”
“Nah. His grandmother,” I sigh, knowing I need to call her back. I’ve avoided her the past few days.
“Britt’s mom?” Leo asks, straightening.
“Christ, man.” Nix shakes his head and grabs his bag. “If it was Mom, he would have said Mom, dumbass.”
“Yeah, Britt’s mom. Having us so far away has been hard on her,” I admit, feeling like shit. Without a doubt, this is what’s best for Bodhi and me, but by moving us from Chicago back to Kroydon Hills, I’ve taken away the only remaining piece of Britt that Melissa had.
It’s not like Britt’s dad was ever in the picture. It was always just her mom and her until it was Bodhi and us. And then it was just Bodhi and me.
The guilt that lives permanently with me rears its ugly fucking head.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy for her, but I guess I hadn’t realized just how much she’d struggle with it until she started calling every day.
“You’ve been home for three weeks, brother.
” Nix leans back against his locker, arms crossed over his chest and an annoyed glint in his eye.
When I was five years old and playing on my first hockey team, a kid shoved me to the ice.
He told me I should go play football like my dad because I was never going to be a great hockey player.
Nix beat the shit out of him. He was eight.
I guess you could say he’s always been protective. We all are.
My family might be batshit crazy most days, but they’re fiercely loyal. It’s one of those we can call each other assholes, but don’t ever think we’ll allow you to do it situations. “Give it time. She’ll get used to it, or she won’t. It’s what you needed, and that makes it the best thing for Bodhi.”
“Yeah, I know.” And I do know it. Doesn’t make me feel less like shit though. “I just hope you’re right.”
“Come on.” Leo shoves me forward and grabs his keys. “If it’s the right move for you, it’s the right move for the little man. He needs a happy dad.”
Not sure I remember what that feels like, but I’m working on it.
Or I will be.
Soon.
Ares follows us out of the locker room and into the bright sun heating the asphalt outside the arena. “Just maybe try finding a nanny sooner than later. Because I plan on taking advantage of my nooners with my wife, now that all my kids are in school, whether your kid is in my house or not.”
“What the hell?” I swallow. Fucking TMI. “Do you plan on paying for his future therapy bills too?”
“Dude. I didn’t say it would be in front of him.” He stares at me, completely straight-faced. “We’ll put him down for a nap.”
“Sounds like I’m out for lunch, guys. I don’t need my kid scarred for life.”
The four of us quiet as my words hang heavy in the humid September air.
Bodhi lost his mom when he was barely three months old.
What no one wants to say is he’s already scarred for life.
“You know you could come back for dinner.” Gracie holds a sleepy Bodhi against her chest, her blonde hair wrapped around his finger as he clings to his favorite stuffed dinosaur.
The same one Uncle Tommy placed in his crib after he was born, which is soft and green with a white t-shirt that proudly displays the Kings football logo in black.
His head presses against her shoulder as his pale-green eyes slowly begin drooping.
“The twins will be home in an hour and the triplets, right after that. Two more people won’t be a big deal. ”
“I appreciate it, sis, but I need to get him home and bathed and fed, or he’s going to fall back asleep now and then never sleep tonight. We’ve got a routine . . .”
“A routine, huh?” She smiles, and a little bit of the stress I’ve been holding onto falls away. “Still weird to think of you as a full-blown adult, Henny.”
“Hey . . . I’ve got a kid, a job, and I’m looking for a mortgage.”
“But—” she argues like I knew she would.
“I can’t stay here forever, Grace. I need my own place.
” Renting next to her is great for now. But if Kroydon Hills is my home again and the Philadelphia Revolution is going to be my team hopefully until I retire many, many, many years from now, we need roots of our own.
Not my parents’ and not my siblings’. We need something for us.
We need a home.
A life.
At some point, we need to move on and stop just going through the motions.
“Fine. I won’t argue with you for now. How’s Ryker?” she asks as I shoulder Bodhi’s diaper bag and reach for my son. “We’re all worried about him.”
“He’s tough. He’ll get through this,” I offer. Seems like this is the season for a lot of us to be going through hell, and it’s currently my best friend’s turn. “I’m supposed to have lunch with him later this week. I’ll let him know you were asking.”
She gently places Bodhi in my arms and runs her hand over his curls. “Love you, Henny.”
Closing my eyes for a quick minute, I bury my nose in the top of Bodhi’s hair. “Love you too, good twin.”
Gracie’s smile is immediate. “Don’t let Cross hear you saying that.”
“As long as I’m not calling Everly bad twin, he doesn’t give me shit,” I admit, and Gracie lowers her eyes.
“Pretty sure no one gives you shit anymore, Hendrix. Aren’t you tired of everyone walking on eggshells?”
“Fucking exhausted.” I kiss her cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
The nice thing about living on this street is the way Kroydon Falls backs up to the house.
It’s a great view. Nothing but blue lake and waterfalls behind me.
It’s peaceful. Calming. Britt would have loved it.
She’d love the swing set in the backyard and the sandbox that surrounds it.
She’d have been out here every day having picnics with Bodhi.
Feeding him some organic shit that she swore tasted good but really leaned more toward cardboard than delicious.
She’d love the giant race-car bed I got him when we moved here and the bookcase full of all her favorite children’s books that my family gifted her at her shower.
She’d be obsessed with how curly his hair has gotten and how pale his eyes are.
He has her eyes. Some days, it hurts so much to see him cry because I still remember holding her as she cried.
As she made me promise to give him the life she knew she wouldn’t have time to give him.
Cancer is an ugly fucking bitch.
Britt knew . . . She knew she’d never have the time she should have.
The time Bodhi should have had with her.
She made me promise so many damn things.
And I did.
I promised them all. Agreed to them all. How could I not? How do you tell your dying wife no? Your dying best friend? The mother of your child?
Staring up at the moon reflecting along the water, I wish I could tell her to fuck off.
I almost did the night she gave me the box that’s sitting on the table in front of me.
The one full of fucking letters I’ve refused to look at until now.
Letters that are numbered but I’ve been too much of a coward to count.
The card sitting on top of the stack is pale blue with white hydrangeas painted along the edges, and when I open it, her black handwriting is practically illegible.
Chicken scratch was what her mom always called it.
She should have been a doctor, according to Mel, because only a doctor’s handwriting was as terrible as Britt’s.
But Britt hated blood. She hated death. She hated science and numbers and facts.
She was a dreamer. A soft, sweet soul who saw the best in everyone, even me, when we didn’t deserve it.
She ran my social media for me in college and eventually became my assistant when I was drafted to Chicago. It was easy. It made sense in a way nothing makes sense now.
Before she died, she made me promise I’d move back to Kroydon Hills.
Made me swear I wouldn’t wait.
That I’d take Bodhi and go give him the life she wanted for him.
Britt wanted Bodhi to grow up with his cousins and aunts and uncles.
She wanted holiday traditions. Sleepovers.
Birthday parties. She wanted him surrounded by the kind of crazy love she missed growing up with just her and her mom.
Hell, she probably expected me to ask for the trade to the Revolution last year, but I couldn’t.
I wasn’t ready to drag Bodhi away from the house that still smelled like his mom. I’m still not sure I’m ready for that, and I already pulled that fucking trigger.
Flipping the card over, I run my finger over her chicken scratch and laugh.
I need one more promise, Hendrix.
Promise me, when you’re ready, after you move home, you’ll read these. And don’t lie to yourself, you need to move home. You already promised me you’d do that, and I’ve never known you to be a liar. Don’t start now.
I love you with all my heart, Hendrix. You’re my best friend, and I wish more than anything that I could be there with you. I wish I was laughing and crying and watching our son grow up. God, how I wish that was in the cards for me. But it is for you.
Okay, so I lied. I need two final promises. Read the cards . . . Not all at once though, okay? Take your time. Make them last.
Time is fleeting. Don’t waste it. Live your life.
Live it for yourself. Live it for our son. And live it for me in a way I never will. Right all the wrongs. Mine and yours. Fix them, Hendrix. Fix them since I can’t.
Stop wasting time. It’s finite. Make every minute count.
Mourn me as Bodhi’s mother, but don’t mourn the love of your life. That was never me. Don’t rewrite history for either one of us. My life was perfect because of you. Because of Bodhi. Now make yours perfect.
XOXO,
Britt
Yeah . . . That’s enough for tonight.