Page 56 of Break Away
Briggs appeared from the hallway with his rubber gloves still on. “I don’t know what happened, but I would like to be included emotionally.”
Cade leaned against the banister, his mouth barely curved. “Ryan is speaking Spanish to Gayle and making it sound obscene.”
Ryan lifted his mug. “Not my fault the language is romantic.”
“It is your fault you looked at my mom while saying it,” I said.
Mom released his face and turned toward me, still smiling. “He said my son is a good man.”
The kitchen went quiet for half a beat, the kind that would have been uncomfortable if Briggs had not immediately pressed a gloved hand to his chest.
“Beautiful,” Briggs whispered. “We are healing in multiple languages.”
Ryan winked at my mom again.
I pointed toward the hallway. “Both of you are on thin fucking ice.”
Briggs leaned toward Rider and whispered loudly, “I am in love with Easton’s mom.”
Mom pointed at him without looking. “Don’t make it weird, Goalie.”
Briggs straightened. “Understood.”
Skylar was already on the couch, looking around the living room with the careful nonchalance of a girl trying not to seem impressed. Rider sat near the far end, leaving enough space not to crowd her while still being included. Somehow, within two minutes, he had her talking about the music on herphone because Rider had the unfair ability to make silence feel like an invitation instead of a test.
Cade crouched beside the ottoman where Vivi had paused to inspect the framed team photo, his voice low and even. “You know all the numbers?”
Vivi nodded without looking at him. “Easton is thirteen. You are fifty-five. Briggs is seventy-two. Rider is nineteen, but his position changes too much because Coach Little trusts him to be flexible.”
Cade looked impressed in a way he did not soften for adults. “That’s right.”
“Your face was on the news,” Vivi said.
Cade’s expression flickered.
I took one step forward, but Mom’s hand caught my wrist with quiet force before I could move too fast. Bliss wasn’t here to step in, but Cade answered before I could.
“It was.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice steady. “It hurt.”
Vivi processed that, her fingers tapping once inside her sleeve. “You skate again, though, right?”
“I do.”
“Good,” she said, and returned to the photo like the matter had been handled.
Cade remained crouched for another second, then looked up at me. Something passed between us that neither of us would name in front of my sisters.
Mom’s grip slid from my wrist to my hand. She turned my palm over and frowned at the red line across my knuckle where I had split it again while cleaning beneath the sink.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”
“You boys always say it’s nothing when it is visibly something.” She clicked her tongue and looked toward the kitchen. “Where’s your first-aid kit, or do you all pour beer on wounds and call it team bonding?”
