Page 41 of The Breaking Point

“Come on. Let’s get some ice cream,” said Mom, pulling me away from thoughts of Brady.

We made sure to stop at the park where my parents had erected a statue of Ben, commemorating his hockey career that had been cut too short. It’d been at this same park where he’d first started playing field hockey, although he’d quickly switched to ice hockey. My parents had tried putting the statue at the rink where Ben had practiced, but apparently the rink wasn’t interested.

We walked to the ice-cream parlor where we’d often get ice cream as a family. The owners recognized us and knew that we came only after visiting Ben’s grave.

The owner served us both rocky road, Ben’s favorite, and told us it was on the house. Mom, of course, had to do her usual song and dance when she tried to pay, but the owner always insisted.

“I wonder how much longer he’ll keep giving us free ice cream,” I said as we sat down outside. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, as per usual in LA.

“I feel guilty that he keeps giving it to us for free,” Mom remarked, frowning.

Considering the constant line at the place, they weren’t hurting for paying customers.

“Hey, take the Dead Son Pass for as long as you can,” I joked.

Mom clucked her tongue. “Since when are you so morbid?”

That first year after Ben’s death, none of us could joke around. We’d been too oppressed by grief. Everything reminded us of Ben. We’d see a kid eating ice cream, and my mind would go to the times Ben would take me for ice cream when we’d been kids.

I didn’t know how Dad had kept going to work for a hockey team. How had he not seen Ben in every player, at every game? I was grateful that I was able to leave for college and get away from my own memories.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Mom said quietly. “It doesn’t happen as often now, but sometimes I’ll wake up and think, ‘I have to wake up Ben.’ He was such a sound sleeper. He’d sleep through multiple alarms, remember?” She smiled sadly. “But then I remember that I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

I squeezed Mom’s hand. “Remember when he slept through the earthquake?”

Mom laughed. “Oh God! He was in the tree house back in the Vegas house, and we thought something had happened to him. Nope, he was snoozing away like a five-point-three earthquake hadn’t just happened.”

I grinned. “Did I ever tell you about the time I shaved his eyebrows in his sleep?”

“What? That was you? I thought it was his friend Dylan!”

“It was Brady’s idea, actually. But I was mad at Ben for ignoring me when he had his friends over, so I was the one to do the deed. But I was such a good girl nobody believed Ben when he said it’d been me.”

Mom lightly smacked my arm. “Grace Elizabeth! Shame on you.”

I just laughed.

We finished our ice cream in companionable silence, remembering the good times with Ben. I wondered what he’d be doing now, at twenty-six. Would he have still been playing hockey? Or would he have finished college and gone on to do something else?

He’d always said he’d been interested in going to law school. Would he have become some high-powered attorney? He would’ve been good at it, I knew that.

“You and Brady have been spending a lot of time together lately,” Mom said.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. “What?” I knew I was stammering.

Mom gave me The Look. “I saw you on the security camera, coming home with him. Well, he wascarryingyou inside. Care to explain that?”

I gaped at her. “I thought the cameras were broken.”

Now Mom had the grace to look embarrassed. “They were, until recently. I thought Dad had told you he was getting them fixed?”

I groaned. “Oh God. Does Dad know?”

“No, and I wasn’t planning on telling him.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless there is something I should tell him about.”

“Do you still have the video?”

“No, I deleted it. Because I knew your dad would flip out.”

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