Page 113 of Brace and Chase

“There were about a million more messages but that’s the gist of it. And he wants you to call him. Seemed pretty desperate.”

I decide to leave it at that.

I believe I did the right thing by telling him what I saw. I don’t regret it. Now, no matter how much I hope he opens up to me, I’ll keep my mouth shut if he doesn’t.

I’m not going to push him.

And I decide I can live with that when he starts talking and it’s not about Max.

“I saw you go down,” he says lowly. “I saw your stick break. It made me so scared, sweetheart.” His Russian accent comes out unintentionally it seems.

“I know,” I murmur.

“It’s true that I haven’t been that scared, that angry, in a very long time.” He sighs out the words with a resignation I’ve never heard from him before. “He left,” he says at last. “They were dying and he came to Vegas from college to see them, but then he left. And he didn’t come back. He didn’t come to their funerals. He said his goodbyes, and then they were sedated anyway, but I wasn’t.”

I hear the tears in his voice before I look up just in time to see the first one fall down the side of his face.

My heart breaks for him in that moment.

“He was only nineteen but I couldn’t forgive him,” he whispers finally. “We didn’t talk for two years after that, not until he messaged me out of the blue five years ago. I never reply, but he hasn’t stopped texting me. And every time he does, I get angry. I remember how he left me.” He lets out a shuddering breath and then there’s no more talking.

He doesn’t need to explain any more.

I understand, even if I know differently.

I let him cry, something I never thought I’d see him do, which I now realize was a ridiculous expectation. And I’mbeyond grateful that he feels safe enough in my arms to come undone in them.

After a while, he falls asleep, and I remember that same fear he went through alone, from so long ago.

I remember the way it wouldn’t let me function. I couldn’t do anything for my brothers when they lost their dad, for my mom when she lost her husband, her rock, her best friend. I couldn’t do anything for my aunt and uncles who had lost a brother, and I definitely couldn’t do shit for my grandparents who had lost a son.

It was too much, and I found a way to avoid it by making myself useful.

I remember the faces of shock from my family when I told them I was still going to the hockey camp the day after the funeral. I remember how detached I was from their emotions.

I’m not going to excuse Max’s actions, but maybe, when Nik is ready, maybe I can tell him how it was for me when I was in his shoes.

We spendthe day in our room, away from everyone. We’re both just a little fragile and need the time to lick our wounds.

I have no words for him, not yet, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to need them.

He’s quiet when he wakes up after noon. There are nomore tears and his eyes seem clearer. I kiss him instead. For hours we do nothing but kiss and hold each other. We might be hard but there’s no need to do anything about it for now. I only want to be close to him, and I’m beyond grateful that he wants the same.

We have a light lunch thanks to room service, and it’s only at six that we have contact with the outside world, since Nik left his phone on silent and I put mine away.

There’s a knock on the door, and Nik hurries to move his stuff to the other bed in the room, then rushes back to the door to check who it is.

His quick thinking reminds me that we’re still in the thick of it. Still hiding, and it’s probably going to be like that for the rest of the season.

Maybe longer.

“Bear,” Nik cries with forced enthusiasm, and his best friend clearly doesn’t buy it. He just raises an eyebrow and taps Nik’s shoulder so he’ll let him walk into the room.

He surveys the mess—most of it made by the fact that Nik’s bag was open when he ran across the room with it.

“Heart, my sincerest condolences for having to be in the same room as this animal.” I snort when he points his thumb back at Nik.

“And he snores,” I deadpan and mock-scowl at Nik.

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