Stone (Pittsburgh Titans 2)

It means I’m going to have to attempt to understand him.

Christ, this is hard as hell.

It takes some resolve, but I make myself open the door, thankful that Harlow didn’t come up with me. It really didn’t have anything to do with that damn dog, but more that I didn’t want her witnessing any potential vulnerability I might exhibit. Hell, just the hesitation in entering would have embarrassed me as she could never imagine the extent of our family dysfunction.

Or maybe she could.

I don’t know how close she and Brooks were, but she came to his funeral. She’s talked about him with clear grief in her expression. At first, I thought she was merely his attorney, but if she came to the burial service, I can only conclude they were together. Maybe just dating, maybe serious. She said Odin had been in his place many times, so they were lovers, for sure.

Not sure why that bothers me, but it does. Thus, I’m really glad she’s not here to go through the condo with me.

Once I disarm the security system, I take my first gander at what was a piece of my brother.

His home.

I’m shocked at how refined he’d become. Two years younger than me, he was only twenty-five when he died. He came into the league at twenty-one, an immature but driven hockey player with a solid work ethic. I was with the Eagles and he was with the Titans, and we often made news—brothers in the league was newsworthy.

Those were the days when we were still close, and we’d visit each other when we could during the season. If we played in the other’s city and the team stayed overnight, we’d crash at each other’s place and catch up. The year the Eagles won the Cup, Brooks came to every single playoff game to cheer me on.

That summer, Brooks and I went to Australia and New Zealand. Spent three weeks traveling around together, and it seemed that our perfect lives couldn’t get more perfect.

What I didn’t know then was that it could go downhill so fast.

That summer was the last good time I remember with Brooks. At the start of the next season, I got injured and started my struggle to stay within the professional ranks. Over the next four years, I was either recuperating from my injury, fighting to stay on the Eagles, or battling down in the minors for a shot to return to the pros. It was back and forth, another injury, and suddenly, my perfect world was as imperfect as it could be.

And that’s when Brooks and my parents left me behind.

My parents jumped ship immediately, only going to see Brooks play. They never came to one minor league game of mine.

Brooks’s abandonment came slower, and I might have helped perpetuate it. He’d reach out to check on me, but I’d often play it up that there were no problems. He’d think all was cool. I never really checked up on him, because I could see in the stats and on ESPN he was doing very well for himself.

Because I was in the minors and he was not, we didn’t have multiple visits a year in each other’s cities. The summers I was working, teaching hockey camps for extra cash while he and my parents traveled. It was gradual, but by this past year before Brooks died, we were almost completely estranged, other than the odd check-in call or text such as we had at Christmas. I hadn’t seen him in well over a year and my parents in even longer than that.

I was an island unto myself.

I shake my head, dispelling those morose, lonely memories, and take in Brooks’s home.

It shocks me at first, because it’s stunning, really. I hadn’t known he’d bought something. I knew when he joined the Titans, he started out in a really nice apartment that was just a one-bedroom. He said he’d hardly be there, so why bother with more space to clean up?

As if he’d ever clean up.

My brother was the perpetual slob from childhood to adulthood, the type who would let dirty dishes accumulate until he ran out and was forced to wash them. The type who would leave clothes lying around and a thick layer of dust on things.

His condo is pristine, nothing out of place. It’s beautifully done, with the light maple floors running throughout, some of the walls done in brick and others painted a grayish-blue with black, exposed ductwork running overhead. The living area is bright with lots of windows on both sides, the furniture is high-end but comfortable looking, and built-ins are tastefully filled with books and sculptures. The art on the wall is modern and plentiful with big canvases strategically placed to make it seem like you’re walking through a gallery.

I roam the place slowly, running my hand over furniture, picking up framed photos to try to get insight into his life. Many of the photos are of him and his friends on the Titans. Always smiling, always having fun.