Page 18 of Game Misconduct

“Hi, Araceli.”

“What thehell, you actually picked up?”

Danny leaned against the shelf of lockers, resting his head against the cool metal. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

Araceli made thehmmnoise he imagined she probably used on her patients. It was just his extremely bad luck that his older sister was a therapist. “So, look, Danny, I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically.

“None of us have talked to you since—since that dinner.”

The guilt that was always with him prickled under his skin, lurched in his stomach. “I know. I promise I’ll call more often.”

“No, buddy, don’t make promises you’re not going to keep. You don’t even have to call, just pickup. Mom and Dad are really worried about you.”

“Well, they don’t need to be. I’m just playing hockey.”

Araceli paused. She always did that; tried to think of the best way to phrase a question or an accusation, and he hated it because he knew she was going to start picking apart everything he said in response, even the things he didn’t say. Even if she didn’t do it maliciously. He wished Araceli wouldn’t try to be a shrink at him, but it was like sometimes, she couldn’t turn it off. He wouldn’t have answered more often even if she could, but he lived with the eternal sick fear that something he’d tell her would set everything in a clearer view than she already saw it.

Already saw him.

“That kid who broke your tooth last year is still at it, I see.”

Danny thought about Mike’s elbow slamming into his throat the last time in Philly and about Mike jerking off desperately, losing his shit so completely that he smacked himself in the face when he came. They hadn’t talked much since then. Mike seemed either angry or embarrassed or both, which was to be expected. Danny was giving him some space.

He pressed the side of his face harder against the metal locker. “Uhh...yeah. But it’s fine. We don’t play them that often. And I got a new bridge already.”

“Danny.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I just hate watching you gethurt.”

“I don’t get hurt that bad.”

“Danny—”

“I know you’re my sister, but this is my job. I’m a tough guy. I can take it.”

“But should you?”

“Celi, I don’t really wanna talk about this right now.”

“Fine. We will literally never talk about it, because you will never want to talk about it.”

“How’s Josie?”

She sighed, long and deep. He knew she was mad at him, because she was always mad at him these days, and she was right to be. He knew that she didn’t want to tell him about her daughter, about his favorite and only niece, unless he assuaged some of her fears first. But she wasn’t a vindictive asshole. She was a better person than Danny. She had never given up on him. Not yet anyway.

“She’s good. She’s got your height, I think. She’s in the ninety-eighth percentile right now. And she asks about you all the time.”

He couldn’t do it. If he thought too much about Josie’s giggly little laugh and the way she liked to sit on his foot and let him walk her around the room like he was her own personal taxi service, the way she called him tío Danny in her tiny piping voice, he was going to break completely. “Uh...tell her I love her and I’ll see her soon, okay? I, uh, I have to go.”

“Sure,” Araceli said, resigned. “Sure you do. Bye, Danny. I love you, hermanito.”

“Love you too, Celi.”

He felt like a complete piece of shit, driving home from the gym. He was an asshole who couldn’t even talk to a family who loved him, a family he loved more than anything or anyone. A family who worried about him. That was what he couldn’t deal with. The worry; the pity. If he told them the truth they’d feel sorry for him. And if they felt sorry for him—

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