Page 120 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

We move into the living room, the three of us forming an awkward triangle—Cade on the armchair, Hannah and I on the couch, a careful foot of space between us that feels both necessary and ridiculous given what Cade already knows.

Hannah breaks the tense silence first. "I owe you an apology, Cade."

This catches both of us off guard. Cade's eyebrows shoot up.

She nods, her hands twisting together in her lap. "I realized something during all this." Her eyes search the ground and then she looks at Cade. "We barely knew each other."

Cade starts to protest, but she holds up a hand, stopping him. "Think about it. Two months of dating, and what did we really know about each other? Did you know my favorite book? Why I chose my major? What happened with my dad that made me so cautious?"

He's silent, his expression confirming her point.

"And I didn't know you either," she continues softly. "I didn't know about your family, you never mentioned you had a brother who played hockey, and truthfully, I had never seen you angry until you came my dorm."

"So what?" Cade asks, but the edge has gone from his voice. "People get to know each other over time."

"Exactly," Hannah says. "And I think…I think you're going to find someone so much better suited for you than me. Someone who gets you from the start, who shares your interests and priorities. And one day, this whole situation will just be a funny story you tell at parties."

Cade stares at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shifts his gaze to me. "And you? Where do you fit in this little scenario?"

I clear my throat, suddenly nervous in a way I haven't been since asking coach to let me switch from defense to right wing freshman year. "Hannah and I want to make this—us—official."

"Official," Cade repeats flatly.

Hannah leans forward, her earnestness almost tangible. "But only if you can give us your blessing, Cade. It matters to us—to both of us—that you're okay with it."

Hannah gives me a reassuring nod, even though we pretty much made it official last night. However, this conversation, her apology––our apologies to each other are important. We can accept our indifference and move forward.

Cade barks out a laugh that holds more disbelief than humor. "You want my blessing? To date my brother after you were with me? That's…that's something."

"I know it's a lot to ask," Hannah acknowledges. "But you're a good guy, Cade. You always have been. Even when I didn't know you well, I knew that much."

He's quiet for so long that I start to think he might just walk out. Then he sighs, the sound carrying the weight of resignation. "If you're seriously that happy together…then be together. What the hell do I care?"

It's not exactly a ringing endorsement, but it's something. I stand, extending my hand to him, a peace offering that feels long overdue. "Thank you."

He studies my hand for a moment, then accepts it, using the grip to pull me into a brief, awkward hug. As we connect, he murmurs near my ear, "You better thank Mom for this."

The words hit me with unexpected force. I pull back, searching his face. "Mom?"

He nods, a hint of his usual smirk returning. "Who do you think I talked to at 11 PM last night after the game? She told me to stop being a punk and remember we're brothers first, rivals second."

The knowledge that Cade turned to our mother—and that she, in her no-nonsense way, encouraged him to be the bigger person—fills me with a complicated joy. I haven't told her about any of this yet, too ashamed of the mess we've made, too uncertain of how to explain it. But of course, Cade confided in her. They've always had a different kind of relationship than her and I. I’m just glad she talked some sense into him, and he was able to get all this shit off his chest.

His gaze shifts between Hannah and me once more, then he shrugs, an eloquent gesture that somehow encompasses everything—acceptance, lingering hurt, reluctant support. "As long as you're both happy, I guess."

Then he looks directly at me, his expression softening slightly. "Sorry about your face."

I wave it off, knowing he's referring to more than just the injury. "Hockey happens."

"Yeah." With that, he heads for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. "Just…don't fuck this up, okay? Either of you."

It's as close to a blessing as we're going to get, and honestly, it's more than I expected. I nod, acknowledging both the warning and the implicit forgiveness it carries.

When the door closes behind him, Hannah lets out a long, shaky breath, as if she's been holding it since he arrived. Then, with a sudden burst of energy that catches me completely off guard, she launches herself at me, arms wrapping around my neck as she practically climbs me like a tree.

"We did it!" she exclaims, her face alight with relief and something that looks suspiciously like joy. "We got through the worst of it!"

I catch her, hands automatically finding her thighs to support her as she wraps her legs around my waist. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself grinning despite the pull it causes on my injured cheek.

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