Page 101 of Breakneck Hockey

Okay. He’s probably right. But still. “Your opinion means a lot to me, Stace. Do you think I should end it with him? For real, I mean.”

I’ve lost track of the number of times Sutter and I have “broken up” and “gotten back together”. For one, I don’t know if we can call it that since we’re not dating. For two, I doubt we’re done with that game. Sometimes we end because of real shit, and other times it’s because our bickering goes too far. I know it’s fucking childish, but we like it. I can’t say why Sutter likes it, but it’s the security for me. Done doesn’t mean done. I can say it, I can yell whatever bullshit I want at him, and if anything, it brings him back with more force than before.

Except, apparently, now. Where’s my fucking post-game text, asshole?

Ugh. I know what people say about relationships like ours. We’re toxic. We’re becoming codependent in a different way than RhettLo. We’re a dangerous addiction. Don’t forget the “don’t play games with each other” mantra.

But that’s the stuff I fucking like. Sutter does, too. Shouldn’t we be happy doing us?

“I’m worried,” he says in a voice a lot smaller than what my brother uses. He sounds like a different person. “But you’re a grown-ass man.”

He’s been saying that a lot, too.

“What’s up with you, man? Is this because of Dash?”

“Dude. Not everything’s to do with Dash, okay?” he snaps. Stacey’s not quick to anger, but that’s not to say he’s never angry. He’s protective of the ones he loves. But pushing him to the brink for general annoyance-type shit isn’t common. I’m gonna go on a limb and say there is something Dash related bothering him, but I get the message. He needs space on that. “I’d also appreciate it if we could leave the Dash thing alone for good. It’s not happening. It’s never happening.”

“But—”

“I’m serious, Case.” Stacey’s jaw is set tight. I rarely feel this far away from my twin. Even when we’re apart, I can sense him. We’re attached by a weird energetic string, and the creepiest shit happens to us because of it. I’m not supposed to miss when he’s in unbearable pain.

Okay, fuck. A Sutter break’s the right remedy. I’ve been paying way too much attention to him and none to my poor brother. I’m the fucking worst.

My eyes slide to my phone.Still nothing.

“I won’t bring it up again, but please promise you’ll talk to me if things go south. Please, Stacey?”

“Yeah. Of course,” he says, but it’s reluctant agreement at best. He’ll never fucking tell me. “I’ve actually, kinda sorta been seeing someone.”

“You have? News to fucking me. Holy shit. I know I’ve been self-consumed, but you couldn’t tell me something like this? What kind of an asshole do you take me for?”

“You’re not. I know you’re not. I’m glad you’re … Fuck. I thought it might worry you, so I didn’t want to say anything until it was more serious. It’s getting there, so now I’m telling you.”

My heart’s beating so fast. Can’t seem to get it under control. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Stace. I can handle you dating someone.”

A warm hand encircles my wrist. “Is that why you’re about to hyperventilate?”

Taking a measured breath, my eyes flick to my phone. I meet his gaze. “It’s new information. That’s all.” I’m the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s not easy hiding my devastation, but I try. I thought they’d be endgame for each other. And, yeah, I know dating doesn’t mean my brother’s gonna marry this guy, but it means he’s given up.

He lets go of my wrist and he turns toward me. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’m good. I’m always good. You know that.”

“You’re not. What the fuck is going on?”

Stacey runs a hand over his face. He mumbles something that sounds like, “fuck, he was right”. He rolls his head across the couch cushions. “Fine, there’s something, but I don’t know how to talk to you about it because … fuck.” He counts off on his fingers. “One, you’re gonna get excited for the wrong reasons. Two, I don’t want you to feel bad and there are two things to talk to you about that might make you feel bad. Any chance you can guarantee me you won’t feel bad?”

My stomach churns the mountain of pizza I shoved into it, congealing with the beer. “No.”

“I might as well just rip the Band-Aid off. Something came up in a conversation with Dash and he said I should talk to you about it.”

He’s right, the bubble of excitement is real about the Dash part. I tamp that shit down. “About what?”

“Look I never had time to digest Mom because?—”

“Because of me.” Anger courses through me, white and hot. I’m up like a shot.

Stacey sits taller. His hair tumbles over his shoulders. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything. I’m not mad about it or upset with you. I chose to put you first, and I don’t regret it.”

I can feel them, the tears. Threatening to spill. I let them burn my eyes instead. Quick glance at my phone. Nothing.What the fuck, Sutter?

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