Page 39 of Don't Puck Your Best Friend’s Girl

"What's up?" he asks, leaning against the wall.

I take a deep breath. "I was too hard on you. About Hannah. The whole situation."

His eyebrows shoot up. This was clearly the last thing he expected to hear. "We really talking about this first thing in the morning, Cade?"

"I was a dick. I shouldn't have called your ex. It was cruel of me, and the truth is, that girl is batshit crazy." The admission feels like releasing a weight I've been carrying for months. "I can't believe I brought her to one of your games. Look, I know I was wrong. And I know everything's been okay, but now I'm here in your space, playing hockey. I know how it all looks, brother, and maybe I begged Coach for a chance just to fuck with you."

A cautious look touches his face. "What the fuck is going on here? Is this a joke? Are you fucking with me?"

I smile at him. "Let's just say I've gained some perspective lately." I run a hand through my hair, still damp from my morning shower. "Hannah's a good girl. Take care of her, okay."

"I will." He studies me, head tilted slightly. "But that's not all, is it?" He almost laughs. "Where the fuck is this conversation going right now? You sound like dad."

I laugh. "And you are too much like mom. But, uh. No… I did something fucked up. Like way more fucked up than what you did."

"Jesus, Cade. What did you do?"

I huff, running a hand through my hair again. "I slept with Byron's girlfriend. Well, they were broken up only two days." I can't quite meet his eyes as I say it. "I convinced Saylor to tell him that we hooked up, so we went and told him yesterday."

Sandy just shakes his head, not in judgment but in something close to disbelief. "Are you fucking crazy? Byron and Saylor broke up? And you and her…"

"Yeah. At the party on Saturday. Byron wanted me to talk to her because he said I could help him out if I did. So, when I saw her at the party, we were both drunk, and…" I trail off, because excuses ring hollow, even to me. "Anyway, the point is, I'm a hypocrite. I've been giving you shit for months about the same kind of mistake I just made, only mine was deliberate. A selfish fucking act whereas yours was a mistake, and I realize how much of a fucking turd I am." I lean my head up and sigh. It feels good to say that aloud. "I am a piece of shit, Sandy."

"That's…a lot to process."

"Tell me about it." I lean against the wall next to him. "The crazy thing is Hannah's honesty is what inspired me to tell Byron. She didn't hide what happened with you two. She owned it. And as much as it hurt, it was better than finding out some other way."

Sandy nods slowly. "Yeah. She's always been upfront about things, even when it's hard."

We stand in silence for a moment, the weight of shared mistakes creating a strange new bond between us.

"The thing is," I continue, "I know I've got problems. I need to be better — less arrogant, less entitled, less of an ass in general."

Sandy chuckles. "Less like dad, bro. Trust me. But self-improvement looks good on you, little brother."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm still going to steal your starting spot."

He laughs outright at that, clapping me on the shoulder. "No, you're fucking not."

The moment stretches between us, something healing in its simplicity. Brothers again, after too long as adversaries.

"So, what now?" he asks. "With you and Byron?"

"No idea."

Sandy sighs, the sound of someone who's seen this movie before. "Here's some big brother advice: let it go. All of it. The competition, the grudges, the self-righteousness. It's exhausting, and it doesn't get you anywhere good."

"Just like that? Let it go?" I scoff.

"It's not easy. But it's necessary." His eyes meet mine, serious now. "Trust me on this one, Cade. You're too much like dad and look at how unhappy that motherfucker is."

I nod, though I'm not sure I can do what he's suggesting. Some things are easier said than done. Some things are also genetic, aren't they? Or are they just environmental?

Coach's voice bellows from the locker room, calling us all to the ice. Sandy pushes off the wall, movement breaking the moment.

"Coming?" he asks.

"Right behind you."

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