Page 95 of The Assist
“Mia,” His voice is raw. Rough. “If I could take this away from you, I would.”
I close my eyes, soaking in his sound, it’s the steadiness Ican’t find in myself right now. “I don’t know how to help him,” I say. “I can’t fix this.”
“You’re helping just by being there.” He pauses. “You always show up for the people you love.”
Something twists painfully in my chest. “Dylan…” I whisper, and there’s a canyon between everything I want to say and what actually comes out.
“I love you,” he says, so simply, sosurely, like it’s a truth he carries.
The tears spill over now, hot and unstoppable. But still, I can’t say it back. I’m too afraid of needing him this much. Too scared of what it means to let someone in all the way. When I stay silent, Dylan doesn’t push. He just breathes into the phone, slow and steady, like a lighthouse in a storm.
“You don’t have to say it, baby,” he says finally, voice thick. “I know. I know you feel it.”
I squeeze the phone tighter, my heart breaking in a way I don’t know how to fix. “I miss you,” I whisper.
He lets out a shaky laugh. “Miss you more.”
We stay like that, connected by a fragile thread of words until I finally drift into a restless sleep, phone clutched tightly in my hand.
The morning comes too fast.The house hums with quiet tension as Mum packs a bag and checks the paperwork for the appointment. Ben sits at the kitchen table, pretending to read the back of the cereal packet but not fooling anyone.
Dad comes downstairs in joggers and a T-shirt, blinking sleepily at us all like he knows he’s the centre of gravity but doesn’t know why. “Big day?” he asks, voice uncertain.
Mum pastes on a bright smile. “Just a check-up, love. Nothing to worry about.”
He nods, looking vaguely reassured, but when he catches my eye, there’s a flicker of something else. A shadow. A crack. And I realise with a jolt that he knows. Somewhere inside, he knows he’s losing pieces of himself.
It guts me. Rips the air right out of my lungs. But I smile too, because that’s what we do. We love him enough to lie. “Well, I’d better get dressed then,” Dad says as he heads back upstairs. We all breathe a little sigh of relief, relief that he’s not putting up a fight. Nor has he questioned why both of his adult children are now back home, and more importantly, accompanying him to the appointment.
He appears in the kitchen ten minutes later with his work suit on, his top button done up, and adjusting his tie. This is the man I remember. Put together and in control. My heart cracks a little.
“Come on, Dad,” I say, grabbing his coat. “I’ll sit with you.”
He grins like a kid being offered a prize. “My favourite girl.” Ben rolls his eyes behind him.
And I let him. Because for a little while longer, we can pretend. We can pretend I’m not the one that always disappoints him. We can forget he hates that I didn’t follow the path he’d so carefully laid out for me.
We can imagine that all of this is not happening to our family.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
DYLAN
The puck hits the boards with a hollow crack, but I barely flinch. I’m late on the pass again. Too slow. Too fucking distracted.
“Winters, what the hell was that?” Coach barks from the bench.
I mutter an apology, skating hard after the next drill. My legs are heavy. My stick feels like it’s dipped in concrete. And it’s not because I’m tired.
It’s because Mia’s not here. And I don’t know how to shut it off.
Jonno catches me as I come off the ice. “Get your head in the game, Diesel,” he mutters low enough that Coach can’t hear. “You’re skating like you left your brain in the locker room.”
I grimace. “Sorry. Rough night.”
With my body feeling heavy and my mind jaded I drop down on the bench. Murphy’s eyes sharpen. “You talk to Mia?”
I nod, pulling off my gloves and flexing my hands. They feel empty without her touch. “Yeah. She’s home with her family. Her dad’s…” I trail off, jaw locking.
