Page 106 of Salute, To Bravery
Craig
The next day starts off lighter than most. There’s a buzz of excitement in the air, especially from the kids. We go out for breakfast—just the five of us, minus Patrick, who’s off at morning skate prepping for the game. Jane insists we enjoy the moment, keeping the mood up, distracting everyone with pancakes, hot cocoa, and her classic no syrup until after three bites of real food rule. Bridget and Caleb make a game of counting how many players they think they’ll meet later.
We’ve been told to arrive at the arena around 2 p.m.—early enough to meet the players and get a behind-the-scenes tour before the event begins. Patrick’s team is the away team tonight, but the Capitals are hosting and sponsoring the whole showcase. It’s a good cause. At least, that’s what it’s supposed to be.
When we pull into the arena’s parking garage, Jane turns in her seat and gives everyonethe look—Mom mode activated.
“Everyone be on your best behavior. I don’t care if you see your favorite player or a dancing Zamboni—no yelling, no climbing things, and no asking for selfies until we’re told it’s okay.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I smirk, and she rolls her eyes before kissing my cheek.
We’re all dressed casually but bundled up in winter gear—puffer jackets, team beanies, thick scarves. Even Rei has traded her usual sleek jacket for a heavy parka, the fur-lined hood pulled tight around her face. She hasn’t said much today, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Being here, surrounded by the hype, the bright lights, the players—it’s probably a minefield of memories. Brandon would’ve loved this.
We’re led through security and into a private elevator that drops us off at the Players Club—an exclusive lounge filled with sleek tables, plush seating areas, a couple of private bars, and oversized TVs streaming pre-game coverage. A few Capitals execs greet us warmly, handing out passes and gently guiding us around.
“Holyshit,” Bridget gasps, practically vibrating in place. “Mom, look—it’sEvan! OMG, I need his autograph!” She’s pointing toward a tall winger with a grin that could sell cereal. “You played him in high school, right, Aunt Rei?!”
“Yes,” Rei replies, voice flat. She offers a tired smile; it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Bridget doesn’t notice—too busy planning her ambush.
I wheel over to Rei as the rest of the group fans out. The kids are already moving from player to player, autograph books open, phones in hand, and Jane is deep in conversation with the team liaison. I lower my voice so only she can hear.
“You okay?”
Her eyes don’t meet mine at first. “Yes.”
“Liar.”
Rei finally looks at me. There’s a flicker of annoyance, maybe even gratitude, hidden behind the weariness. “Yes, well. What do you expect? Patrick only has us here to parade you around for sympathy and good press.” Her gaze follows Patrick, who’s just entered the lounge with a camera crew close behind. “Just smile and pretend it’s all peachy.”
I sigh. “You want me to run over his foot with the chair?”
That earns the ghost of a smirk. “Tempting.”
“Hey,” I nudge her elbow gently, “I know this sucks. But I’m glad you’re here. Brandon would’ve wanted you to keep living. Even if it means suffering through a fake PR stunt with Patrick’s smug face in every frame.”
She snorts. “That smug face should come with a warning label.” Before I can respond, the energy in the room shifts. Cameras sweep toward us, and at the center of it all—of course—is Patrick.
He struts in like he owns the place, all bright smiles and broad shoulders. The man has charisma in spades and self-awareness in crumbs. He claps me on the shoulder like we hadn’t spent the better part of the past year not speaking.
“Look at this, crew,” he says to the cameras, turning up the volume. “My brother, the hero, looking like a champ. Damn, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you wear something that isn’t government-issued.”
I grit my teeth and give him the smile I reserve for formal events and funeral homes. “Trying something new.”
Rei stands a step behind me. She offers a tight, almost imperceptible smile—just enough to pass as polite. But I see the signs: the stiff shoulders, the clenched jaw, the way her hands curl into fists at her sides.
Patrick doesn’t notice. He never does.
“And look who it is, my baby sister,” he says, spreading his arms like he’s welcoming her home from war. “It’s been forever.I still remember you and Brandon at that barbecue—what was that, two years ago? The one where he couldn’t stop talking about all the good things we’re doing over there.” His voice shifts, just slightly. Toward the cameras now. “I mean, that’s my family. Marine dad. Two siblings in uniform. Real heroes. Makes me proud every time I think about it.”
Rei’s face doesn’t change. Not anger. Not shock. Just… still. Like something inside her has turned off. She takes one step back. Then another.
“Hey,” I murmur, angling closer. “You good?”
She gives a small, mechanical nod. “I just need a minute.”
Then she turns and disappears, slipping through the edge of the crowd like mist. No one stops her. Patrick keeps talking. The cameras keep rolling.
