Page 113 of The Hat Trick

“Love you, big bro,” she sings.

“Love you too,” I say before we hang up and I continue my drive.

I’ve avoided coming here for several years, I think the last time I visited was before Brynn went to college. Which was also the last time I saw our parents. Trying not to dwell on the bullshit, I turn up my music and use it to drown out all the thoughts.

The town comes into view, and I feel the anxiety from my childhood spiking almost instantly. I don’t know if Brandon even has a place to live, but I wasn’t going to go to wherever that is anyway. We agreed to meet in front of the old movie theater, and I told him I wouldn’t be waiting around for him.

There aren’t many people out right now and I’m thankful for it. It’s one thing being a well-known athlete in a big city where so many people are focused on themselves, that they hardly notice me. Here in my hometown, it’s a different story. Most people don’t end up making it out of here and those that do, never come back. And when someone becomes famous everyone knows about it.

Which is why I’m hoping no one sees me. I’m pretty sure the local sports bar has a Dragons shrine with a giant photo of me in it. I pull on my baseball cap, keeping it low, though it’s hard for someone six-foot-six to remain inconspicuous. Not to mention my brother is also tall so anyone walking by will know no matter what, that they are seeing two of the Collee kids.

I sink down in the driver’s seat, keeping the front of the building in my view while I wait. It’s already five minutes after our agreed time to meet and he’s not here. I decide I’m giving him another two before I’m driving back to Cincinnati.

Right as time is running out, I see him. Like I said, the Collee kids are tall and hard to miss. The lanky, hunched over, shaggy haired man that comes into view I instantly recognize as my brother. With a sigh I get out of the car just as he leans against a wall, hunched over like he just ran a marathon.

“Brandon,” I call quietly, looking around to make sure no one is looking at us.

His head snaps up and he looks like shit. His dirty blond hair reaches his shoulders and is stringy and greasy. His eyes and cheeks are sunken in making the dark circles appear more prominent. He looks like he weighs nothing and like his body could snap in half from one wrong move.

All in all, he looks like shit. Way worse than the last time I saw him and worse than he’s ever looked.

“Brent,” his voice is scratchy, and he coughs as soon as my name is croaked out of his dry lips.

“You look fucking terrible,” I tell him simply. No hint of sympathy, just straight forward facts.

“Feel like it too.” He tries to stand up a little more. We are probably around the same height, but with the way he’s hunched over it seems like I tower over him.

“You’ve convinced our sister you’re ready to change and that you actually want to get better.” I cross my arms over my chest.

“It’s true, man, I feel like shit all the time and I just need your help to get back on my feet. You have the money to spare, you can help me.”

The laugh I let out is louder than I mean to, but I can’t help it. “Right. Because thisisabout money. Not getting help.”

He shakes his head. “No, no, it is about getting help, but I need the money to do it.”

“I’ve told you the deal, Brandon. You find the help and show me you’re serious and I’ll pay for treatment. I willnevergive you straight cash and you know that.”

“I can’t get into a place without money,” he snaps.

“That’s bullshit and we both know it. You can get in the door somewhere you just choose not to.”

“I’m serious this time, though. I just need your help.”

“Then get intotreatment.”

“You’re not listening.” He rips at his scraggly hair.

“No, you’re just being the selfish asshole you’ve always been.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “Me?Selfish?That’s great since you are the most selfish person I’ve ever fucking met, always refusing to help me that I have to go through our little sister to get you to even talk to me.”

“And you’re a piece of shit for that, she didn’t need to be dragged into your problems more than she already is.”

My phone starts ringing in my pocket, and I take it out to see Chandler’s name lighting up the screen. I silence the ringer because the last thing I need to do is for her to hear any of this.

“Who’s that?” Brandon asks, suddenly intrigued by something else.

“No one.”

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