Page 80 of On the Edge

“Ich liebe dich,” I tell him quietly. He makes a low sound and squeezes me a little tighter. Max doesn’t speak German, but he doesn’t need to, to understand the sentiment.

“I’ll still be around,” he whispers into my shoulder, like my sudden melancholy is apparent to him. “I’ll text you.”

“Yes, we will still talk,” I agree, even though I know it won’t be the same. Just like when Carter left school. The loss of him at practice every day was like suddenly finding myself without my left hand. I would look for him in the net and feel a jolt of disappointment when I saw Micky there in hisplace. It will be the same with Max, I know. Perhaps worse, since I have played right wing to Max’s center for the past three seasons. How on earth am I supposed to play without him?

“We will fly out to watch when you play Carter’s team,” Zeke pipes up, and I share a grateful smile with him.

With Max gone home to call Luke and hear about his interview, Carter and Zeke retreat to their bedroom where I can hear the soft murmur of voices and the occasional burst of quiet laughter. After showering, I stretch out on my bed and call Atlas.

“Henri,” he answers, and I immediately feel less sad than I did before.

“Hello, Bärchen, how are you this evening?”

“You will never guess what happened,” he says, and then launches into a ridiculous story about a backyard baseball game gone wrong. A slow smile creeps across my lips as I listen to him talk about his brothers and a broken window.

“So, I am guessing your dad is likely unhappy about this?” I ask, and am rewarded with a throaty laugh from Atlas.

“Pissed! To be fair, it was kind of nuts to be playing baseball in the backyard. Especially with Ethan, who’s wild to the point of danger. But it was fun, and my stepmom wasn’t even mad about it. It was so funny, Henri, we were standing there just…staring at the window and trying to decide if we should make a run for it, and she came out the back door with the ball in her hand.”

“Uh-oh,” I muse, smiling.

“Right? But she just tosses it to Ryan, points away from the house, and says:aim that way, please. Fuckinghilarious. Of course, Dad blew his top when he got home. He’s convalescing in his sitting room now, probably drinking a bourbonand ruminating on how much better his life would be without kids.”

“I am thinking your dad is a little unreasonable.” Atlas snorts violently. “To be honest, though, I am unsure how my own parents might react to a broken window. I was a very well-behaved child.”

“You? I simply cannot believe that.”

“I know,” I agree seriously. “I am full of surprises.”

Atlas laughs again, and I miss him so badly it hurts. I miss the way his dark hair shines like it’s oiled, and the way his mouth only seems to soften for me. I miss kissing him, and touching him, and the way it felt to let him do it to me. I sigh, because those things are gone.

“What’s wrong?” Atlas asks.

“It is nothing. I am being silly. Tell me more about your day.”

He huffs. “Henri, come on. Tell me. You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Oh, it is only that I had to say goodbye to my friend today. Max is very talented, as you know. He is to play hockey for the NHL, and will be going to Detroit soon. I am happy for him, but I am also sad for myself because I will miss him very badly. It is selfish.”

He’s silent, and I imagine I can feel the quiet judgement. I should only feel proud of Max; glad of his good fortune and talent. I should not think of myself at all, because it has nothing to do with me. Opening my mouth to say this to Atlas, he cuts me off with a firm, “Don’t be an idiot.”

I laugh. Atlas is so much like Carter, it is sometimes worrisome. I imagine they’d get along well, if they ever met. They could sit in a quiet room and glare at one another.

“You are literally the least selfish person I know,” hecontinues hotly. “You’re allowed to miss your friend. Jesus, and people thinkI’mhard on myself. And just because he’s going off to be a hockey star, or whatever, that doesn’t mean he won’t miss you just as bad. You guys practically live in each other’s pockets during the season. You can’t tell me he won’t be sad when he looks over at his new teammates and realizes you’re not one of them.”

“Well, now I feel worse.” I sigh, and Atlas laughs again. How lucky for me to have heard it so many times tonight. “I worry for him, too. I would feel better if Carter or I were with him.”

“Isn’t he with that Luke guy?”

“Yes. He will be going along.”

“So, everything is fine,” Atlas says firmly. “You can’t always worry about everyone else. You’ll drive yourself mad.”

“You are right. My mother tells me I am a caretaker. She tells me it is born from my desire to make other people happy. She tells me I must try not to be these things all the time.”

“Your mom the doctor, right?”

“Correct.”

---