Before I could say anything back, a mother walked over with her young son. He was staring down at his feet as his mom whispered to him, “Don’t be shy, Ryan.”
“Excuse me.” The little boy with bright yellow Converse and matching shirt was so nervous and adorable.
My brother and Gavin both looked at him, smiling. Brayden shimmied off the couch and onto his knee to get eye level with him “What’s up, kid?”
The boy’s face turned all kinds of red as a huge smile spread like wildfire. “Are you Cox and Hayes from the Otters?”
The mom put her hand on his shoulder. “Ryan is a huge hockey fan. He just started playing on a peewee team.”
Gavin crouched down next to my brother. “Oh yeah? What position does your coach have you playing?”
Ryan started pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “I’m the left defender.”
Gavin looked over his should to me. “Will you ask one of the baristas if they have a marker we could borrow?”
Trotting over, I got a Sharpie from a young worker that was frothing milk. “Who are they?” she asked, handing me the marker.
“They’re players for the Otters.” I smiled, glowing with pride from getting to experience a fan moment with my brother. It used to happen a lot with my dad when we were kids, but this was the first time it had happened to Brayden when I was with him. It hadn’t really hit me until that moment that Brayden was a big deal and a hero to some people.
While Brayden and Gavin signed the little boy’s shirt and chatted with him for a while, I stood back with his mother.
“I can’t believe how sweet your boyfriend and his teammate are. Ry’s whole room is decorated with Otters stuff from floor to ceiling. We just got him a huge stuffed Ollie and he sleeps with it every night.”
I couldn’t help the little laugh I let out. “Brayden is my brother, and we both had Otters décor littering our rooms growing up. Our dad and Gavin’s played for the team, too.”
She blushed a little. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”
Ryan scampered back over to his mom. “Mommy, look!” He was bouncing on his heels, pointing to the signatures on his bright shirt.
“Wow! Isn’t that awesome!” She smiled sweetly. “Thank you. This made his year, I’m sure.”
Chapter 6
Myla
One year later
Ploppingdown onto my light gray carpet, nail polish in hand, I glanced up at Simon, who was digging through my closet. I couldn’t believe that in not even two years, I had gone from barely being able to walk to helping coach ice skating with one of my biggest idols, now turned best friend. It was all too surreal. I was still a little shaky on my skates when I pushed myself too hard or tried the more difficult jumps again, but every day I was getting stronger and Simon was pushing me just enough to get back in competing shape again.
“Myla, I just don’t get it.” Simon popped his hip out while staring at my walk-in closet full of clothes I never wore.
“Get what?” I looked up at my best friend, painting my toes a fiery red.
“I just cannot wrap my head around why in God’s name you don’t use any of these magnificent clothes!” He started digging until he found one of my favorite little black dresses and held it up in the mirror over himself. “If I had your boobs, butt, and long-ass legs, I’d rock this little number every day, all day!”
“I think you’re missing the vagina too, Simon.” I threw the pillow I had been leaning on at him and giggled. “I just don’t have any reason to wear any of it any more. I’m pretty boring these days.”
“You’ve always been boring, love. Sorry to break it to you, but you could be boring in style instead of the drab tracksuits and yoga pants you refuse to get out of.”
He was right. Since everything had gone to shit the day of the accident, I had become boring as hell. The accident had stripped everything from me: my dreams, my liveliness, my confidence, my mom, everything.
“I just don’t see the point anymore.” I sighed, fixing the section of my cuticle I had just accidentally painted.
Simon huffed over, sat cross-legged in front of me, grabbed the nail polish out of my hands, and started to fix my terrible paint job on my toenails. “Look, my fortieth birthday is going to be at Gatsby’s at nine on Wednesday. Let’s break out a little cocktail number and let loose for a night, how does that sound?”
“Like you’re going to push me out of my comfort zone.”
“You better believe it, and it is going to be fabulous!” Simon’s face lit up as anticipation of the upcoming festivities danced over his face.