21. Dane

21

DANE

The Ranchers’ board did not want to let me go to Minnesota. I understood their reasoning. The team is in the middle of the second round of playoffs, and I’m a crucial element of its offense. The Carolina Sealions are formidable opponents, but this is my mom we’re talking about.

Vincent Gianni Jr. didn’t go so far as to threaten to fine me if I chose to travel to see my mom before the series ended, but he insinuated it was a possibility.

I was ready to tell the team’s owner to shove his objections up his ass and storm out of his office before Coach Miller stepped in. Coach convinced Gianni that it was in the team’s best interest for me to visit my mom.

Mom had been in the hospital for two days at that point, and while it killed me, I’d stayed in Dallas to play in the first game of the series—a game we lost.

That same evening, Coach Miller pointed out that while the team’s loss wasn’t solely on my shoulders, the fact I was distracted by my mom’s health meant my head wasn’t one hundred percent in the game.

After some more placating words and reassurances, Gianni and the Rancher’s board ultimately agreed it would be okay if I skipped training to see my mom, but I had to be back before game two in less than forty-eight hours.

I hated the tight timetable, but it couldn’t be helped.

If Mom is worse than Dad says she is, I won’t hesitate to call Coach Miller and tell him I’ll be missing game two and accept whatever punishment the Ranchers levy on me. But I’ll deal with that situation if it comes to it.

I’m picturing the outcome of that conversation as Eli and I step off the private plane I chartered for the quick trip. Cool spring air penetrates my cotton hoodie. I shiver. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in my home state. I’m no longer used to the weather.

My brother and I make our way to the passenger pickup area, where a ride share is waiting. We barely speak a word during the ride to the hospital. Both of us are, no doubt, bracing ourselves for what we’re about to walk into.

I lean against the sedan’s leather seat and close my eyes, trying to calm my anxious thoughts with slow, steady breaths.

Mom has been sick for years. She was diagnosed with Lupus in her forties and has had a variety of illnesses and painful conditions caused by the autoimmune disease over the years. But she’s never been in the hospital this long before.

Dad didn’t go into detail about what happened when we spoke on the phone, but apparently, there’s something wrong with Mom’s heart. The doctors admitted her to keep an eye on her and also to administer medications while monitoring for side effects. He told me I didn’t need to come see her. He swore she was fine.

I don’t believe him.

Dad wouldn’t have called to tell me about Mom if she was fine. He would’ve just sent a text. And he sure as hell wouldn’t have called Eli.

No, Dad’s worried.

He’s trying to hide it now to stop me from risking the team’s chance to win a championship, but it’s too late. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere until I make sure the woman who raised me is okay.

“We’re here.”

I open my eyes and turn to Eli.

His face is pale, but his expression is determined.

“You going to be okay?” This homecoming is even more anxiety-inducing for Eli, thanks to how he and Dad left things the last time they spoke.

“I’m here for Mom,” he replies, knowing exactly what I’m getting at. “I’m not here for him.”

I nod. “I’ve got your back, Eli.”

“I know. Thanks.” He takes a deep breath and then exhales. “I guess we should go inside.”

I nod. “Let’s go.”

The hospital lobby is quiet. Eli and I approach the welcome desk, and I let my younger brother do the talking. The older woman volunteering at the desk glances at me curiously before directing us to our mom’s room on the fourth floor.

Unlike Dallas, many citizens of Minneapolis are hockey fans. The fact I’m from the snowy state makes me even more recognizable. The one thing I have going for me to maintain my anonymity is that the Ranchers are in the middle of playoffs. No one expects me to be here when game two is tomorrow.

Eli presses the button for our mom’s floor and rolls back his shoulders as the elevator doors open.

I wait for the doors to close before looking at him and saying, “It’s going to be okay.”

Eli keeps his gaze forward, but I see how his lips quiver. “I’ve been avoiding Mom’s calls,” he admits. “I was so pissed she didn’t stand up to Dad. I haven’t spoken to her since I moved to Dallas.”

I suspected as much, but knowing how touchy the subject of our parents is, I never mentioned them to Eli.

“No one who knows the story would blame you for that.”

“They should. I was a coward. I could have kept a relationship with Mom while ignoring Dad. I was an idiot.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true.”

The elevator slows to a stop, and the doors open. Eli walks out before I can say anything else, not that it would make much difference.

Eli’s battle with my parents is one I can’t imagine enduring. He does a good job not letting it deter him from being himself and holding to what he wants out of life, but moments like this remind me just how painful their estrangement is for my younger brother.

Protective instincts cover my body like a suit of armor. We’re here to check on Mom, but I won’t hesitate to intervene if Dad tries to go after Eli. Odin Larson has never once laid a finger on me or Eli, but his disapproval hits as hard as a punch to the gut.

We follow the signs hanging from the ceiling to Mom’s room.

The door is open, and I hear The Price is Right playing on the TV.

Eli and I share a smile. Mom watched that show every morning while we were growing up. She’d avoid running any errands until the episode ended. She got a kick out of playing the games alongside the contestants. Some things never changed.

Eli takes a deep breath, pastes on his characteristic, easy-going smile, and taps the door frame. “Knock knock.”

“Cammy!” Mom gasps.

“Hey, Mom.” Eli enters.

I step inside the doorframe and watch Eli walk to her bedside and bend down for a hug. Mom’s thin arms come around his neck.

“What are you doing here?”

He draws back but keeps hold of one of Mom’s hands. “We came to make sure you’re all right.”

“We?” Mom’s eyes land on me. “Dane!”

“Hi, Mom.” I step farther into the room. “How are you feeling?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” she sputters. “You’re in the playoffs!”

“My thoughts, exactly.” Dad rises from the vinyl recliner in the corner. His six-foot-five frame dominates the space. My blood boils when his eyes slide over Eli before landing on me. “I told you that your mom was fine.”

“I needed to see that for myself. Besides.” I smile at my mom. “It’s been too long since I’ve been back home.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Odin,” Mom admonishes. “Not now.”

It happened faster than either of us expected, but Eli and I are prepared for this argument. We’re here to see Mom, and we know facing our dad is part of the deal. But we aren’t kids anymore. I’ll always have a healthy respect and fear of the man who raised me, but I won’t let him bully me or Eli.

Fortunately, my resolve isn’t put to the test.

Mom’s words take effect, and Dad’s expression softens as he looks at his wife. He may not be the most affectionate father, but he’s a devoted husband. He loves Mom fiercely. He always has, and her illness has taken its toll on him. His hair is grayer than the last time I saw him, and the lines around his eyes are deeper.

Eli clears his throat. “How are you feeling, Mom?”

“I’m fine.” She waves a bony hand in the air. “The doctors are fussing about nothing. You two really shouldn’t have traveled all this way.”

“We wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Eli squeezes her hand. “I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, honey. I’ve missed you, too.” Moisture shines in her eyes. “How’s Dallas? Is your big brother treating you right?”

I scoff. “If you mean, am I feeding him? Yes. Don’t you see the extra pounds on his stomach?”

“You fed me junk,” Eli jokes. “Morgan is responsible for helping me gain these bad boys.” He flexes his bicep, much to Mom’s amusement.

“Who’s Morgan?” she asks between chuckles.

“My nutritionist?—”

“Dane’s girlfriend.”

I glare at Eli. The punk grins back at me.

“Oh, that’s right.” Mom straightens. The dark shadows under her eyes fade as her features light up. “I read something about you dating someone new, but I had no idea she was your nutritionist.”

“You’d think a son would bother to tell his mother about his relationship,” Dad remarks, dampening the room’s mood.

My nostrils flare, but I keep my voice even when I reply, “Morgan and I wanted to keep things casual.”

“And now?” Eli prompts with a knowing grin.

I resist the urge to punch his arm. “Now, things are getting more serious.”

So serious that I’m pretty sure Morgan will be the last girlfriend I ever have. Not that I’d say that to her.

“That’s lovely, Dane.” Mom holds out her free hand. I move to her bedside, facing Eli and Dad, and take her hand. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You’d like Morgan, Mom,” Eli says. “She pushes Dane to his limits. Because of her, he finally gave up that sugary cereal you hate so much.”

Mom gasps. “Really?”

“I did it for my health, not Morgan.”

“Psh. Whatever. You did it to get in Morgan’s pants.”

“Eli!” Mom admonishes with a laugh. “That is not appropriate!”

“Sorry, Mom,” Eli says with a smirk that says he’s not sorry at all.

Mom continues to laugh, but it devolves into a coughing fit. Both Eli and I frown with concern.

Dad nudges Eli aside and hands Mom a cup of water. She takes small sips. A couple of minutes later, she’s able to speak, “Sorry about that. These meds dry out my throat.”

Eli and I share a look.

“I heard you are looking to be traded,” Dad states without preamble.

My eyes meet ones that are a near-perfect match for mine. My lips press into a hard line when I see his disapproving frown. “How did you know about that?”

Dad snorts. “Do you think Henry doesn’t keep me apprised about your career just because you fired me as your manager?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t fire you, Dad. You were never officially my manager.” I lower my hand and meet his stare. “And yes, I expect my agent to keep private career information private. Even from his college friend.”

Maybe it’s time I consider hiring a new agent. Carter says great things about his agent. I bet Gary Ramirez wouldn’t leak career news to my dad.

“Odin,” Mom speaks between tiny, lingering coughs. “Let’s not discuss this right now.”

Unfortunately, this time, Dad can’t help himself. “All I want to know is why one son is determined to throw his career away by switching teams when his current team is on the rise and why the other son is content to be a bench player rather than get his shit together and get a real job.”

Eli stiffens.

I jump to defend us both. “What I do with my career is none of your business. And the same goes for Eli.”

Eli is a talented player. He has what it takes to play in the pros. I believe that with all my heart, and not just because he’s my younger brother.

Eli’s problem is that he didn’t hit puberty until later. He’s been competing against boys and men who could consistently outperform him physically. But now, with the proper training and nutrition, he’s leveled the playing field. He just needs the opportunity to show a team what he’s got. He wants to play for the Ranchers to be on the same team as me, but he’s willing to play anywhere.

Mom’s grip tightens. “Dane, honey… please. Don’t.”

“Sorry, Mom.” I take a deep breath. She’s right. This isn’t the time or place to have this conversation.

Unfortunately, Dad must have held back his dissatisfaction for too long. He can’t control himself.

“You are both wasting your potential. For what? So you can get more money, Dane? And so you can impress that boyfriend of yours, Eli?”

I drop Mom’s hand and straighten. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Dad scoffs and turns to Eli. “You think I don’t know you moved to Dallas to chase after that fairy.”

“ODIN!” Mom cries out.

Eli’s face drains of color.

Mine is, undoubtedly, red with rage. “And there it is. Let the homophobia out, Dad. Stop pretending that isn’t the real reason you’re treating Eli like shit.”

Just before Eli moved to Dallas, he finally came out to my parents. I’d known his sexual preference for years, as did most of Eli’s closest friends and teammates. It wasn’t a big deal to most. And anyone put off by it was someone Eli easily let go from his life. He was strong like that.

The only exception is our parents.

It didn’t matter how often I encouraged Eli to be honest, reassuring him that our parents wouldn’t stop loving him if they knew the truth. He had a hard time accepting that he would, one day, have to tell them.

It wasn’t until Eli found a guy he really liked that he found the bravery to tell Mom and Dad. Eli thought he and Quinn would go the distance—he thought he found his one.

It sucked when Eli moved to Dallas and realized Quinn had no intention of turning their last semester of college fling into a lasting relationship.

And it sucked even more when Eli and I realized I’d been wrong about our parents.

Well, not Mom.

I was in the room when Eli told my parents about his sexuality. While Mom looked surprised, she quickly hugged her youngest son and thanked him for telling her the truth. I’m not a sappy guy, but the touching scene brought a tear to my eye.

But that tear quickly dried up from the fiery rage I felt when I saw my dad’s rigid posture and scowl. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. His demeanor told Eli everything he needed to know—confirmed everything he feared.

I got Eli out of the room before Dad found his voice and could do or say anything to cause irreparable damage to their relationship. I wanted to save Eli that pain, at least. But I couldn’t save Eli from the fact Dad hadn’t contacted him in nearly a year, not until Mom was hospitalized.

My brother puts on a brave face, but I know how much it hurts to have a strained relationship with our dad. They used to be thick as thieves. Now, they’re barely more than strangers.

Dad sputters. His face is blotchy. “How dare you. I have no problems with?—”

“Odin. Get out,” Mom’s voice is stronger and louder than I’ve heard in years. “Now.”

The sound of The Price is Right crowd cheering echoes through the room. It’s the only thing stopping the piercing sound of silence from permeating the room—that and the heart rate monitor beeping quietly beside Mom’s bed.

Dad’s mouth snaps closed. “Anna, I didn’t?—”

“Go,” Mom’s tone brooks no argument. “I want to spend time with my sons, and I don’t want there to be any tension while I do. It’s not good for my health.”

Dad’s jaw snaps closed. He wants to say more, but he won’t risk doing anything to upset Mom. At least in that, I respect him.

“I’ll go to the cafeteria.”

Mom nods. “I’ll call you when you can come back.”

Dad looks at me and Eli. I brace myself for the words I see forming on his stern lips. But he bends down, kisses Mom on her forehead, and then stomps out of the room.

I wait until he crosses the threshold to walk over and close the door behind him.

When I turn back around, Mom has pulled Eli into another hug. My mind flashes back to Mom holding Eli just like that after he was cut from the All-Star Hockey Team in sixth grade. He’d been crushed. He made the team the following year, but Eli says that rejection stuck with him above all the rest because it was his first.

It also stuck with me because it was the first time I felt guilty about how our father compared my younger brother to me.

I wish I’d shown Eli more of my struggles or at least told him about them. I’d adopted the role of a perfect big brother when I should’ve strived to be more honest. Eli put himself through so much shit under a misguided attempt to be like me.

“I’ve missed you, bug,” Mom murmurs into my brother’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too, Mom.”

“How bad is it? Really?” I ask.

Mom sighs. She releases Eli. He straightens and wipes a lone tear from his cheek before seconding my question, “Please don’t lie to us, Mom. We want to know because we care.”

Her gaze fills with affection as well as sadness. “I know you do, boys. And I mean what I said, I’m fine. These symptoms are nothing new. Some days are worse than others, and the doctors want to monitor me a little more now that I’m getting up there in age, but I am fine.”

I’m not convinced.

Eli’s expression says he isn’t either.

My brother and I have two choices. We can insist on learning the truth about Mom’s condition. We can spend the rest of this visit forcing her to share what she obviously doesn’t want to share, or we can enjoy this time with our mom.

Eli and I share a look. Silently, we come to the same decision.

“I’m trying out for the Ranchers this year.” Eli sits on the mattress's edge, turning to face Mom. “My trainer is optimistic that I’ll make it.”

“And so is half of the team that works out with Eli,” I add proudly. “You’ve worked your ass off, and it shows.”

He ducks his head. “Thanks, man.”

“I’m so happy for you, bug.” Mom pats his hand. “I know how bad you want this.”

Eli nods.

“And you.” Mom looks at me. “I can’t believe you’re here in the middle of playoffs.”

“Some things are more important than hockey.”

“Oh, you.” Emotion clogs her throat. “Are this much of a sweet talker to that new girl of yours?”

“Morgan is great,” Eli interjects before I can speak. “She keeps Dane on her toes. Just wait until you hear about how they met.”

I glare at my meddlesome brother, silently telling him to shut up.

It’s too late.

“Oh, yeah?” Mom’s eyes sparkle. “Do tell.”

I sigh. There’s no avoiding this now.

I do my best to paint a favorable picture of Morgan and me when I tell my mom how I first saw Morgan at Carter’s party and regretted not talking to her. Then, I tell her about seeing Morgan again at the club.

Eli snorts when I gloss over us making out on the dance floor, and Mom gasps when I tell her about the misunderstanding that led to us not speaking for months.

“But now you’re together?” she asks after I finish telling her about our fake dating arrangement to deter her asshole ex from giving her a hard time.

“Now we’re together,” I say with a smile.

“See, Mom?” Eli chuckles. “See that grin? The guy’s been smiling nonstop since Morgan waltzed back into his life. He’s got it bad.”

I don’t deny it. There’s no point.

I do have it bad for Morgan Caldwell—so bad that I’m just as eager to get back to Dallas for her as I am for the playoff game that will take me one step closer to achieving a lifelong goal.

“Hm.” Mom’s gaze is soft. “I can see that.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah. Morgan is special.”

“I can’t wait to meet her. Maybe you can bring her to Minnesota when the season ends.”

The thought of bringing Morgan back to my hometown—opening myself up to her in a way I haven’t done since Chelsea —should make me nervous. We haven’t dated long. We should take things slow.

But I’ve never been interested in doing what I should with Morgan Caldwell, and I’m not about to start now.

“Yeah, Mom. That would be great.”