Page 81 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Bitch, I think to myself, but I bite my tongue.

“And it’s not like I can force it,” he adds. “They’re in high school now. They can make their own decisions.”

He’s got a point, but it doesn’t make the situation any easier.

“That sucks,” I mutter, thumbing the edge of my cell.

“I text them every week,” he continues. “Ask about their day. If anything’s new. Sometimes I send memes or funny TikToks I think they’d like. Usually, they don’t reply, but every once in a while, I get a response.”

“That’s something at least,” I offer.

“Yeah, I guess.”

What it is, is depressing, but it’s not like I have my shit together, either, so I’m not exactly one to talk. Actually, I’m not usually one to talk––period––and Mack’s the same way, which makes this conversation about as easy as having a root canal.

Mom owes me big-time for this.

I set my cell on the coffee table, giving up on the idea of receiving a response from Blake and rub my hands against my jeans.

“How’s hockey going?” he asks. “I was at the arena the other day when you played the Razors. Work had me on standby in case there were any major injuries during the game.”

“If you were at the Razors’ game, then you saw us play like shit,” I point out.

“Come on, you weren’t that bad.”

I quirk my brow, daring him to lie again.

Hiding his grin behind his hand, he clears his throat, and concedes, “All right. Has the rest of the season at least been better?”

I motion to the damage on my nose. “I got a stick to the face and was thrown from our last game.”

“So that’s why you look like shit.” He laughs and lifts his chin. “Bet you got a few good punches in though.”

I flex my sore hand in my lap. “Maybe.”

“See? So, you’re fine.”

With a scoff, I mutter, “Gee. Thanks for your concern, big brother. Next time you’re at a game, we should grab a drink after.”

“Yeah, that’d be good. You get any offers yet?”

“A few potential contracts. One with the Rockies.”

“No shit?” His face lights up. “That’s great, man. Seriously. You’ve always wanted to play for them.”

He’s right. When I was little, it was all I could think about. Then Colt’s dad died, and I didn’t get the call from any decent recruiters like I’d been hoping for after high school graduation. So, I decided to get more playing time at LAU instead of going to the ECHL in hopes of getting picked up by the NHL. From the look of things so far, it’s worked, but I’m not going to get my hopes up yet. There are still too many variables. And like our father says, there’s no ink on the contract yet.

I shrug one shoulder and kick my feet onto the coffee table. “We’ll see how it shakes out.”

“Anyone else interested in recruiting you?”

“There are a few more but nothing solid yet. Some rich guy pulled a bunch of investors together and decided to form a new expansion team. They keep trying to get Colt and me to sign with them. It’s closer to home but less money, and…”

“And it’s not the Rockies,” Mack concludes.

“Yeah. It’s not the Rockies, so we’ll see.”

“How’s Colt doing?”

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