Page 131 of Imperfect Player

There’s fear in his eyes. Worry that I’m going to tell Ben the truth, destroy their happy family.

“I won’t tell him anything that he doesn’t need to know, but he deserves to know he has a brother. He needs all the support he can get.”

My father nods in agreement. They may not give a shit about me, but at least they love Ben. Or pretend to.

“Mr. Ambrose?” Ben says as he slowly makes his way to the door.

The new treatment he’s on seems to be helping. The one I am footing the bill for. I may not have been a match, I may have fallen apart, but fuck if I was going to let anything happen to him.

“Call me Ethan,” I tell him as I crouch down to his level. Looking at him now, the similarities between us are undeniable. The eyes. The way the corner of his mouth crooks up ever so slightly, just like mine.

“What are you doing here . . . Ethan?”

He hesitates as he says my name, as though calling me by it is somehow a sign of disrespect. Or maybe the opposite. Maybe to him it’s a sign that he’s cool. Connected to me in some way. Kid has no idea.

“I was hoping I could talk to you about something,” I tell Ben.

His eyes widen as he nods his head.

“May I come in?”

My eyes leave Ben and look up at my dad. My mom is now standing behind him, her hand covering her mouth.

I’m about to blow this kid’s world apart, but I’m hoping it’s for the better.

“Show me your room?” I suggest to him.

He nods his head happily and takes my hand, tugging me along behind him.

“This is my room,” he says. “It’s not much, but . . . ”

“It’s great,” I tell him. The pictures of me on the wall cause my heart to constrict. “You’re a real fan of mine, huh?”

“The biggest. Are you here from the Make a Wish foundation?”

“What? No. I’m here . . . ” I blow out a breath. “I’m here because I have something really important to tell you.”

“What is it?”

I sit down on the small twin bed and pat the space next to me. Ben sits, looking up at me with these big brown eyes.

“I, uh, I know this is going to be hard to believe, but I promise you it’s true.”

I checked. Three times, actually. But it’s true. We’re brothers.

“I’m . . . I’m . . . ”

“You’re what? Please tell me you’re not going to a different team.”

“No, nothing like that. I’m your brother, Ben.”

Ben’s laughter fills the air. “Did my dad put you up to this?”

“It’s true, man.” I hand him the picture from my pocket. The one of his dad holding me as a little kid. “That’s me. That’s your dad.”

“I don’t understand.”

He doesn’t need to know the sordid details. I wish I didn’t have to tell him any of it. But I knew he would I ask—hell, I would have asked too. So I have my story, and I’m sticking to it. For him.

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