Page 83 of The Best Friend Power Play

I exhale loudly. "Like you wouldn't believe. Personality-wise, they're like twins. Both strong. Stubborn. Brave. Hilarious. This might sound weird, but sometimes when I look at Chester, I feel Trevor's presence."

She grips my hand tighter. "Feelings are never weird, Culver. They're just…feelings."

"I like that." I take a moment to let that really sink in, resting the back of my head against the wall. "I still miss him like crazy."

"He was your twin. I can't even imagine what that loss must be like."

"Isn't that bad, though?" I ask, frustrated with myself for being stuck in the past and unable to move on. "Shouldn't I be over it by now? He died sixteen years ago."

"I don't think we ever get over losing someone we love. Time doesn't magically erase the pain of the loss." She blows out a heavy breath. "We just get better at learning to live with it."

"Is that how you feel about your mom?"

"Yeah. I still miss her like crazy, too. But now, oftentimes when I think of her, I find myself wondering."

"Wondering?"

"Yeah. How things could have been different if she were still with us. What she'd look like, what she'd be doing. What sort of life I'd be leading. Would I have gone to college? Would I have traveled? Maybe I'd be living in a different state. Or even a different country. So many possibilities…"

She smiles wistfully, and I'm overcome by a strong urge to somehow give her the life she hasn't had a chance to live.

She glances in my direction. "Is Trevor the reason why you come here?"

"Partly."

I know that life isn't fair and everyone experiences trauma, but seeing a sick kid has to be one of the worst things. Trevor was diagnosed with glioblastoma multiforme, an aggressive grade IV tumor in his brain two weeks after our eleventh birthday, and despite all the treatments and fighting so bravely, he passed two months shy of thirteen.

I gently slip my hand out of her grasp and reposition it so that now I'm holding hers in mine. "When Trevor got sick, I spent a lot of time in hospitals. I hated them so much. I swore I'd never set foot in one ever again. But when I joined the NHL, the Boston Bullets would do team visits, and I didn't want to be the jerk who refused to participate. At first, it was tough. Everything reminded me of Trevor. The sterile hospital smell. The sounds. The lighting. But then I hung out with the kids. I saw their bravery in the face of unimaginable odds stacked against them. And then I remembered that side of Trevor. How hard he fought. How he was scared but pushed through anyway."

A single tear rolls down my face.

Hannah pulls out a tissue from her purse and hands it to me.

"Thanks," I say, taking it from her. "After that day, I decided to come back and visit on my own. I couldn't do anything for Trevor, but I could be a small bright spot for these kids. And I'd feel bad if I didn't come. In a way…nah, forget it."

"No. What? Say it."

I twirl the tissue absentmindedly between my fingers. I've never told anyone what I'm about to tell Hannah, and I feel so…so vulnerable.

I look over at her, and she smiles softly, bobbing her head as if to say, It's okay, take your time.

I exhale slowly through my mouth and then say, "I felt like it was a healthy way to honor him."

"What do you mean by a healthy way?"

Another long exhale. "After he died, I…I fell apart. I was missing my other half. And then on top of that, we moved from Comfort Bay to Starlight Cove, so I lost everything I knew. My school, my friends, your family."

"We still stayed in contact."

"We did, but…it wasn't the same."

"I know."

"I was so lost and so desperate to stay connected to Trevor that I…I started changing. I began wearing bright clothes like he used to. I became more outgoing like he was. I even switched from football to hockey because that's what he played. I play defense because that's what he did."

"I…never realized that."

"You were young." I get up and throw away the tissue in a bin. "Mind if we stand for a bit? My hip."

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