“I don’t know,” he says, messing with the bottom of his shirt. “When I first came in, she made the comment that she’s so fat now, I probably didn’t recognize her.”
“What the fuck? I think she looks great.”
“Aw, do you still have a crush?”
“Shut up,” I say, punching his thigh playfully. “I’m just saying, she looks good.”
Evan snickers and nods. “She’s always been a beautiful girl.”
Always.
Yet, she never wanted me.
Sad, really.
Before we can continue the conversation—and to be honest, I’d rather talk about Paxy than deal with the doctor—unfortunately, I don’t get a choice. Dr. Tembalt and Paxy come back in, and Paxy stands more toward the door with her iPad and iPen. Dr. Tembalt is a cool dude. He conducts our mental assessments every six months because the IceCats are doing everything they can to keep their players healthy. Our team is the only one without drug addiction in the NHL because of how great our mental health program is. Mom is actually trying to do the same for the Assassins. Evan is part of a group that speaks out for mental health in players, and he is fighting the commissioner to make it so that all teams have this program.
But if he leaves, who will continue the fight?
It’s in that moment that I know I will.
I look over at Evan as he speaks to Dr. Tembalt. His eyes look so dull, not the brightness they usually hold. His shoulders are low, and he looks small, even with his over-six-foot frame. Without really thinking, I place my hand on his back, and feeling the breath he lets out breaks my heart. My brother is suffering, and I don’t know how to help him. He moves his hand down his face, wiping his mouth as he clears his throat.
And then he looks over at me.
I wasn’t listening closely to what was being said between Dr. Tembalt and him, and when Evan’s eyes meet mine, my stomach drops. I don’t even know how I heard or even comprehended what he said, but suddenly, his words explode in my head.
“I’m going to go back home. I can’t do this anymore. It’s taking such a physical toll on me, and mentally, I’m dying.”
I swallow hard, holding his gaze. “Are you sure? Is there anything else you can try?” I find myself asking.
“We’ve tried all the meds, and even a lot of coping mechanisms, but he isn’t reacting to them. The pressure for success once he hits the ice is paralyzing for him.” I look to Paxy as she speaks. “Evan, tell him about the Winter Olympics.”
He doesn’t need to; I know the truth.
“I wasn’t hurt.”
“I know, but we were young. It’s different now.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not.”
My heart breaks. “Fuck, Evan,” I mutter, rubbing his back. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because you wanted this for both of us. We wanted to be together. I didn’t want to let you down. I didn’t want to let Dad down, but I’m killing myself trying to do something I’m mentally unable to do.”
I exhale roughly as I hold his gaze. The pain is so great. I want to cover his body with mine and protect him from the fear and pain he is experiencing. I want to make it all better, but I know I can’t. “I’m proud of you, Evan. I know this isn’t easy.”
He looks away, shaking his head. “It’s not. I thought you’d be mad.”
“Never. I don’t want you to leave, but if it’s what’s best for you, I’m for it.”
Once more, his eyes meet mine. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I nod slowly and whisper, “I love you.”
Evan’s eyes are full of tears, and I hate that. I hate that he was so scared to tell me this. That he’s been hiding his pain. His voice breaks. “I love you too.”
That will never change.
Nothing can ever break the bond we have.
Not space, not anxiety, depression, or anything.
He is my brother.
“You okay?”
I don’t look over at Dart because I know if I do, he’ll see the tears in my eyes. My gaze is out at the ocean, watching the waves come in and crash against the shore. I don’t think my heart has slowed since we left the compound. I just hurt. Everywhere. I’m beyond worried about Evan, and even more than that, I can’t stop thinking about the aftermath. It’s been a week since he decided to go home, and while we’ve done well keeping everything under wraps for now, I know it’s all about to hit the fan. I can’t fight everyone who has something bad to say about my brother. The media will have a field day with this.
He’ll be called a quitter.
A failure.
A disgrace to our father’s legacy.
Of course, Evan will feel all that, if he isn’t already. I suspect he is, which is why it’s taken so long for him to accept the truth. Hell, for me to accept the truth. I knew about the Olympics, I knew about our high school championships when he had the “flu,” and most of all, when the scouts would come, his bone spur in his foot would act up. He isn’t wrong that the only reason he made it was because of me. Everyone we met, I talked him up. I didn’t have to talk about myself; they saw my play. But not Evan’s. There was always something wrong when they were around, and he couldn’t play.