Page 71 of Power Play

There was something that told me Liam would be an amazing hugger.

“Did you always know Nick was your half-brother?” I asked, putting my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Liam shook his head and tucked his phone in his back pocket. “Our mom died just before the playoffs started. She left us a letter and told us about Nick. She’d married her first husband when she was very young, He turned out to be an abusive drunk. They had a son. She said she’d stayed as long as she could, but in the end she walked away. She didn’t know how to do that and take her son with her.”

“She left Nick with his father,” I said and closed my eyes.

Liam nodded. “Our mom had mental health issues. I don’t know how equipped she was to take care of herself, much less a kid.”

“She raised you,” I said.

“Well, truthfully, my brother raised me,” Liam said with a half grin. “Or we raised each other. Our dad took care of our mom and we were left to our own devices a lot of the time.”

I did not want to feel sympathy for the millionaire professional athlete. He didn’t need any more emotional investment or involvement from me. Not if I wanted to walk out of here in one piece. But his childhood wasn’t easy. And if there was one pain I knew – it was that one.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Well, it was nothing compared to the shit Nick had to go through,” Liam said. “He ran away when he was fourteen and luckily ran into the chef guy you were drooling over at the park.”

“Can’t help it,” I said. “Antony Renard is hotandhe can cook.”

“I’m hot,” Liam said.

“But you can’t cook. It’s a combo move, I’m afraid,” I said, fighting a smile.

“I can show you all kinds of combo moves, sweetheart,” he said.

“Stick to the story, hot shot.” I tried not to smile but it was impossible. “So, what happened after you got this letter?”

“We made contact with Nick, just after the finals, and it didn’t go great. Nick’s not exactly in the market for two half-brothers. Wyatt and I decided we were going to give him some time to get used to the idea of having brothers before reaching out to him again.”

“How is a guy supposed to get used to having a brother unless he’s around?” I asked.

He looked at me and slowly smiled. “That,” he said. “is a very good point. One I will use when my brother is yelling at me.”

I pretended to tip my hat to him and immediately blushed because it was so stupid.

“How old were you when your mom died?” Liam asked.

I felt everything inside of me stiffen. No. Nope. I shook my head.

“I don’t…” I stopped. How could I say I don’t talk about her and still sound like a rational person? But he’d shared his story. I took a breath. “I was almost ten.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“What was her name?”

“Catherine. I’m ah… I’m named after her.”

This is more than I’d talked about my mom in years. I felt rusty.

“What was she like?”

No one ever asked me that.

“She was smart. And quiet. She liked books and puzzles. She was always really patient with me. I think I wanted to be a teacher in part because she wanted to be a teacher but never got that chance.”

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