Page 59 of Rival Season
“You have to forgive yourself for that night, Penn,” Cassie cuts me off again, but her tone is gentle now. “Nobody blames you or thinks anything that happened was your fault. Except for you, that is.”
My chest tightens. “I just can’t bear the thought that something could have happened to you.”
“But it didn’t. I’m fine. And you’re the reason I’m fine…because you looked out for me since before I could walk. I don’t know what I would have done without you, Penn. I’m so happyyou’re my brother.” My sister’s eyes glint with tears, and I sink my teeth into my lower lip to stop myself from crying too.
We’re in public, dammit. “Well, I’m glad I had you too, kiddo. You were the only thing in my life I ever loved.”
“Except hockey.”
“True.”
“And now Hazel.”
I sputter a cough. “We aren’t quite there, um, yet.”
“But you will be.” Cassie pulls a leather-bound book out of her bag, and hugs it to her chest before she blinks at me. “After you introduced me to Hazel, I could tell right away whatever it is between you has the potential to be serious. She’s the first girlfriend you’ve had in years, and that means something. Then I thought to myself, what if it is serious? What happens when one day Penn gets married and has kids?—”
“Whoa,” I say with a grin. “Getting way ahead of yourself there, Cass.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t mean right now, duh. What I mean is, if things work out with Hazel, you’re gonna make memories together. I want you to be able to hold on to those memories.”
With that, Cassie slides the book across the table.
I look down at it, then crack it open.
It’s a photo album.
The first page has a crumpled, faded picture of me at eight. I’m playing floor hockey with toddler-sized Cassie, who’s wearing nothing but a T-shirt and a diaper.
My eyes crinkle in a smile. I don’t even remember where the picture was taken, but I remember, even at that age, how fiercely protective I was of my little sister.
The next few pages are full of snapshots of us growing up—the better memories; a summer day at the lake, me on the ice with one of my youth hockey teams, Cassie and I one Christmas morning eating cookies in front of the fireplace. I remember thatChristmas specifically, because my dad showed up randomly at our foster family’s home on Christmas morning and surprised me with a PlayStation. I had to give it back a week later when the police came knocking on the door, but the memory sticks with me because it’s the only time I remember that my dad simply thought of me and did something nice for me—however misguided that gesture might have been on his part.
It makes me think that, in some parallel universe or other life, he could have maybe been a better man had he been given the opportunities to make better choices for his life, like I had after I cut contact with him.
After that, there are more pictures of Cassie and me at Liz and Mike’s place during my last year of high school, followed by numerous snaps of me and Noah in college together with some of our buddies from our team, and some more recent pictures in the loft with Fisher and Ally in them, too. Finally, a selfie Cass snapped of us while I was moving her into her dorm a few weeks back. We’re both cheesing in the picture, wearing matching huge smiles.
“How did you do all this?” I ask, touched.
“Liz and Noah both helped me out.” She smiles, then leans over the table and flips to the next page of the album, which is blank. She nods at it. “To fill up with all the good things in your life you want to remember the best moments of.”
“This is amazing,” I tell her. “Seriously, Cass. Thanks.”
I have a ton of pictures on my phone, but there’s something about the people in my life I love in print, stored in the album in front of me, that makes me feel a little emotional. Physical proof of all the love I’m lucky enough to have in my life.
“The first thing you have to do is add a picture of you and Hazel. Noah didn’t have any pictures of you and her together, so you’re going to have to do that part, because she needs to be in here.”
“She does,” I agree. A part of me feels guilty lying to Cass, but honestly, it’s not really a lie in some respects. Hazel might not be my real girlfriend, but she’s become a real friend over the past few weeks. Someone I love spending time with. No matter what we are, or aren’t, I want her in the book.
After we’re done eating, I pay the bill—Donna leaves her number on the check in a heart, which cracks Cassie up again—and the two of us spend the afternoon wandering around China Town, Cassie dragging me into tons of quirky little shops along the way. I take a ton of pictures, resolving to print them all out and add them to the photo album.
It’s probably the best birthday I’ve ever had.
When it starts getting dark, I drop Cassie off at the metro station and give her a massive hug. “I love you, you know,” I tell her as I hug her tight.
“I love you, too, but please get off me,” she complains. So, of course, I hug her tighter.
I’m in a great mood when I get back to our apartment building. Maybe I could text Hazel after all, see if she wants to watch a movie or something. I haven’t heard from her much since yesterday afternoon when I got on the plane in Pittsburgh. I want to see her and hear her laugh.
