“Duh.” She smiles as she looks up at me. “I love you too, Uncle Mac.”
I slip my phone out of my pocket. “Let’s call Presley and see if she wants to meet us at the arcade.”
Giuliana gasps. “Really? That’s gonna be so much fun!”
We could all use a little bit of fun right now.
“I tookthe kids to see Chance yesterday.”
My heart constricts. “I bet they were happy to see him.”
Presley nods. “He’s really beating himself up about this. I’m worried about him.”
I grunt. “He’s not the one in a coma.”
She peels at the label on her water bottle. “He’s always felt responsible for his mother’s death, and now this. There’s only so much weight someone can withstand before they crack.”
Bile rises in my throat, my stomach churning with guilt. I said some awful things to him that night he showed up at Presley’s house. I compared him to his father, which was as low a shot as I could’ve taken at him.
I didn’t mean it. He’s not his father. But I was just so furious—I still am—at the way everything went down on the ice.
“This isn’t me,” I admit. “Anger and resentment and all this turmoil. I feel sick.” My eyes wander to Avery and Alyssa, helping Giuliana shoot basketballs several feet away in the desolate arcade. “And I hate that you’re all in the middle of it.”
“Hey.” Presley cups my cheek and turns my face to meet her eyes. “You’re going through a lot right now. Alex is like a brother to you, and you’re scared. It’s understandable. You don’t have to always be the funny man, you know. We’re here for you. You have our unwavering love and support. And you will get through this, regardless of the outcome.”
My phone buzzes with a notification. My shoulders jump, and I fumble to get my phone out of my pocket, hoping it’s a message from Aarya saying that Alex has woken up.
AllyCat418 wants to chat.
My heart sinks. “I keep meaning to cancel my membership on this site.”
“What site?” Presley leans over and glances at my screen. “Is that Kourtney’s website?”
I nod. “I haven’t been on it since the night I saw you on the KissCam.”
She grins. “Let me see.”
I hand her my phone, and she explores the site. “This is incredible. There’s something for everyone on here.”
“Kourtney did an amazing job with this.”
She clicks on my inbox. “That’s funny. This username isScoringChance, and that’s Chance’s birthday; February seventeenth.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “Wait, what?”
She hands me back my phone, and I scroll through the private message exchange between me and the anonymous stranger from a couple of months ago.
“Scoring chance is a hockey term, isn’t it?” Presley asks.
I stare at the username in disbelief. “It is.”
“You don’t think it could be Chance, do you?”
“I wouldn’t be able to tell from this thread, but...” I close my eyes, trying to rack my brain to remember what was in the background of his video when we chatted. “We had a video chat once, but it was too dark to make out anything.”
My heart accelerates.
Presley points to one of his messages. “He said he isn’t out yet.”