Page 124 of Unsteady

Max Koteskiy steps forward abruptly, his face a hard mask of anger. He looks so much like Rhys; apart from the slight lines of age and the gray strands to Max Koteskiy’s darker hair, they could pass for brothers.

He grabs his wife in a gentle grip, pulling her slightly behind him. And even when she begins to protest that she’s fine, he brushes a hand along her cheek and whispers, “I know you are, Trouble. But let me handle this, okay? For my ownstupid male pride.”

I can tell it’s some sort of inside joke between them, just from the way it softens her.

“Why don’t you take Sadie to see her brothers?” he suggests, all while his eyes never leave their watch over my father.

She nods, albeit slightly reluctantly, and he grants her a private smile.

“I love you so much it hurts,rybochka.”

His words are soft, but it’s clear his intention. Protection.

Still, the sound of them echoes in my head like gunshots. Affection, open and honesty and deep—it’s what Rhys would be like, as a father or husband. If this were something I could have. It’s something I don’t know; something I’ve never seen before seeing his parents.

I didn’t have time for friends.

The girls I skated with were competitors, and according to Coach Kelley, I wasn’t allowed to skate or play with them. At school, I was too concerned with keeping my secret. So I never saw what real parents and real love really looked like.

“Come on, Sadie girl,” she coos, her tone suddenly gentle, gentler than the harshness of her beautifully round features as she pulls my nearly catatonic body into the hallway. “Rhys and Matt are with your brother’s in the waiting room.”

Matt?

“Freddy’s here?”

Another wave of embarrassment blushes my skin, an itch starting down my spine that I know I won’t scratch away.

They see it, they know now—everyone knows. My father called her a bitch. Spat at her. I know they won’t want their family near mine—especially Rhys.

I try to repeat his words from Halloween again, but all I hear is my father’s shouting. My coach’s honesty. I’ll never be like these people, just like I’ll never skate like any of the girls I looked up to. I’m destined to be justthis.

My terror.

I hate how much I have to resist the urge to call Kelley, to ask him for help. Because Rhys loves me, but he thinks I can be better, can heal.

Will he love me when he realizes that this thing I am is all I will ever be?

We turn the corner into another room, almost like a conference room, but I don’t question Anna as she leads me through it.

The view alone is a shot to the gut.

Freddy is holding Liam, perched on his knees as my youngest brother giggles and plays a game on an iPad that definitely isn’t ours. And Rhys…

Rhys is holding my twelve-year-old brother in a tight hug, sitting on the large ledge of the hospital window so that Oliver can stand between his legs and keep his head against Rhys’ chest. Rhys is whispering into his ear at a constant rate, and the nods of my brother’s head without leaving the embrace, fists tugging at his suit jacket, tells me everything.

Oliver hates being touched, and yet he’s wrapped completely in Rhys’ arms.

The door closes softly behind us, but it still pulls their attention, Liam first with a shout of, “Sissy!” and an unceremonious leap from Freddy’s lap that leaves the man holding himself in pain.

I scoop him up quickly, the practiced expression of serenity slipping into place easily as my brothers both look at me. Liam, still bright eyed and somehow okay, but Oliver’s eyes are bright red, cheeks puffy as he looks towards me without leaving the bubble of safety around Rhys.

And I don’t blame him—I've been there. I know how warm and safe it is.

“Hey, bug.” I smirk, kissing his cheek hard and wrapping him in my arms. “Did they get you all checked out?”

He smiles and lifts his elbow, where a bright orange Bluey Band-Aid gleams. It makes my chest ache.

“He’s alright, just scratched up his elbow a little—right, little man?” Freddy says, standing and messing with Liam’s mop of hair. The Waterfell playboy is still dressed to the nines, looking more like he should be on the cover of GQ and not in a hospital boardroom. But beneath the smile he keeps offering to my brother, there’s a sympathetic look in his eyes.

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