Chapter 10

GRACE

It was the first year none of us cried going to Ben’s grave.

I expected Mom to cry, but she was dry-eyed. She even laughed a little. Maybe it helped that Dad couldn’t attend our annual memorial because of work.

“I know your dad is upset he couldn’t come today,” Mom remarked as she set flowers in front of the gravestone.

“I could tell,” I said.

Dad had been grumbling all morning before he left for work. He hadn’t said outright that he was upset, but everybody knew when he was pissed. He was never subtle about it.

Ben had died six years ago now in a car accident. My older brother, who had seemed all-powerful when we’d been kids, had been felled by something that seemed almost mundane.

Ben probably hated that he’d died in a car accident. He would’ve preferred something more interesting, like dying while skydiving. Or heroic, like running into a burning building to save a bunch of kids.

“It’s always surprised me that Dad didn’t quit coaching hockey after Ben died,” I said.

Mom blinked. “Your dad? Quit hockey? No way. It was all he had, especially after Ben died.”

I kneeled and touched the flowers that Mom had gotten for today. “Ben and hockey were all Dad cared about,” I said.

“What? Your dad loves you just as much as he loved Ben.” Mom looked stricken.

I shook my head. “I mean, I know that. But he and Ben had that special bond. I always knew it was something we’d never have because I didn’t care about hockey.”

Mom sighed. “I think your dad threw himself into coaching because it was easier than letting himself feel things. I was just grateful it wasn’t something worse, like drugs or alcohol.”

I winced inwardly because I thought of poor Brady and his mom. I hadn’t talked to him since I’d taken him back to his apartment.

What did a girl say to a guy who’d tried to drunkenly kiss her? Nothing came to mind. Worse, I was still embarrassed about him saving me that night I’d gotten drunk.

We were quite a pair, I could say that.

“Come on. Let’s get some ice cream,” said Mom, pulling me away from thoughts of Brady.

We made sure to stop at the park where my parents had erected a statue of Ben, commemorating his hockey career that had been cut too short. It’d been at this same park where he’d first started playing field hockey, although he’d quickly switched to ice hockey. My parents had tried putting the statue at the rink where Ben had practiced, but apparently the rink wasn’t interested.

We walked to the ice-cream parlor where we’d often get ice cream as a family. The owners recognized us and knew that we came only after visiting Ben’s grave.

The owner served us both rocky road, Ben’s favorite, and told us it was on the house. Mom, of course, had to do her usual song and dance when she tried to pay, but the owner always insisted.

“I wonder how much longer he’ll keep giving us free ice cream,” I said as we sat down outside. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, as per usual in LA.

“I feel guilty that he keeps giving it to us for free,” Mom remarked, frowning.

Considering the constant line at the place, they weren’t hurting for paying customers.

“Hey, take the Dead Son Pass for as long as you can,” I joked.

Mom clucked her tongue. “Since when are you so morbid?”

That first year after Ben’s death, none of us could joke around. We’d been too oppressed by grief. Everything reminded us of Ben. We’d see a kid eating ice cream, and my mind would go to the times Ben would take me for ice cream when we’d been kids.

I didn’t know how Dad had kept going to work for a hockey team. How had he not seen Ben in every player, at every game? I was grateful that I was able to leave for college and get away from my own memories.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Mom said quietly. “It doesn’t happen as often now, but sometimes I’ll wake up and think, ‘I have to wake up Ben.’ He was such a sound sleeper. He’d sleep through multiple alarms, remember?” She smiled sadly. “But then I remember that I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

I squeezed Mom’s hand. “Remember when he slept through the earthquake?”

Mom laughed. “Oh God! He was in the tree house back in the Vegas house, and we thought something had happened to him. Nope, he was snoozing away like a five-point-three earthquake hadn’t just happened.”

I grinned. “Did I ever tell you about the time I shaved his eyebrows in his sleep?”

“What? That was you? I thought it was his friend Dylan!”

“It was Brady’s idea, actually. But I was mad at Ben for ignoring me when he had his friends over, so I was the one to do the deed. But I was such a good girl nobody believed Ben when he said it’d been me.”

Mom lightly smacked my arm. “Grace Elizabeth! Shame on you.”

I just laughed.

We finished our ice cream in companionable silence, remembering the good times with Ben. I wondered what he’d be doing now, at twenty-six. Would he have still been playing hockey? Or would he have finished college and gone on to do something else?

He’d always said he’d been interested in going to law school. Would he have become some high-powered attorney? He would’ve been good at it, I knew that.

“You and Brady have been spending a lot of time together lately,” Mom said.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. “What?” I knew I was stammering.

Mom gave me The Look. “I saw you on the security camera, coming home with him. Well, he was carrying you inside. Care to explain that?”

I gaped at her. “I thought the cameras were broken.”

Now Mom had the grace to look embarrassed. “They were, until recently. I thought Dad had told you he was getting them fixed?”

I groaned. “Oh God. Does Dad know?”

“No, and I wasn’t planning on telling him.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless there is something I should tell him about.”

“Do you still have the video?”

“No, I deleted it. Because I knew your dad would flip out.”

I sighed, relieved. The last thing I needed was Dad freaking out and going after Brady.

“I got drunk that night I broke up with Will. It was stupid. Brady was nice enough to take me home. That’s it,” I said in a rush.

“You were so drunk that Brady had to carry you inside?”

I blushed. “Um, kind of. I mean, I’d fallen, so Brady was worried about my knee. He was just being chivalrous.”

Mom made a noncommittal noise. “Is there anything going on between you two? Because your dad has been watching Brady, and he seems to pay a lot of attention to you.”

I wanted to melt into the bench. I didn’t even know where to begin. But I also was tired of keeping all these feelings to myself.

“I had a crush on Brady.” I sighed. “No, I still have a crush on him. But that’s it. He’s never been interested in me like that. We’re just friends.”

“It takes a very nice friend to pick you up at a bar and carry you inside your house,” Mom pointed out.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Just that that doesn’t seem like something a friend would do. At least, not a guy friend. He’s very protective of you.”

“I know. He’s like a brother to me.” Even as I said the words, I winced. The last thing I felt for Brady was something sisterly.

“Well, you’re a smart woman,” said Mom, “and I know you won’t do anything stupid. Although getting drunk alone isn’t very smart. You could’ve been hurt.”

“I know. It won’t happen again. The hangover the next morning was terrible.”

Mom was silent a long moment. “I keep hearing about Brady getting into fights. He doesn’t seem like he’s in a good place right now.”

“I mean, his mom is still drinking,” I said, not wanting to go into too much detail about Brady’s mom. “That’d mess anyone up.”

“Of course. But something changed in the past few years ...” Mom sighed. “Then again, we’ve all changed since Ben died. I know it affected Brady as much as it affected all of us.”

Brady had looked up to Ben. Ben had taught Brady all about hockey, and the two of them had spent a ton of time together at the rink. But when Ben had died, Brady had basically acted like Ben had never existed. He’d refused to even mention Ben’s name.

I’d never understood it. It’d seemed ... cold. Like Brady hadn’t really cared much about his friend. It was also around that time when Brady had stopped coming by my parents’ place.

“Brady has never talked to me about Ben,” I said.

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

Mom frowned. “He was always closed off, but you and he were close. I thought maybe he would’ve talked to you out of all of us.”

“No. At the end of the day, I think Brady has always kept to himself. I think sometimes he acts like he doesn’t need anybody but himself.”

“When we first agreed to foster Brady, I wasn’t really excited about it. He was much older than the other kids we’d taken in. He’d also had some incidents when he’d been aggressive. But your dad was convinced we could make a difference.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

“I was also worried about you. You were so young, and we didn’t know what Brady was really like besides what his social worker told us. And sometimes DFS fudges things about kids when they’re more complicated cases.”

“But you changed your mind.”

“More like your dad was going to do what he wanted to do.” Mom smiled wryly. “I told him that if Brady acted up or, worse, was aggressive with you or your brother, he was out of my house. Fortunately, he never gave us any trouble beyond skipping school sometimes and a bad grade here and there.”

I wondered whether Brady had known that Mom was watching him and waiting for a reason to send him away. I hoped not. That would’ve just fueled his belief that nobody had wanted him.

“I was surprised when you two started getting close,” said Mom. “And then it became pretty obvious you had a crush on him.”

“Oh my God, Mom—”

“It was so cute. I could always tell when you wanted to get Brady’s attention. You’d wear your cutest outfit and do your hair and makeup, but poor Brady didn’t know what to do with you. I was worried, at first, but I quickly realized that Brady never saw you like that.”

Her gaze narrowed. “At least, not until recently.”

I looked away. “You don’t have to worry about us. We’re just friends like I said.”

“You would tell me if that changed, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t answer because I didn’t know. Or because I knew Mom would never be okay with us being in a relationship.

Is she still looking for a reason to get rid of him? Now, I can’t help but wonder.

“Ben always made fun of me whenever I tried to flirt with Brady,” I said.

“I think your brother didn’t know what to do with you, seeing you like that. He was very protective of you. I know he still would be if he were here.”

Would Ben tell me that Brady wasn’t the guy for me, even now? I didn’t know. I liked to think Ben would’ve been more pragmatic than our parents, but maybe not. Maybe he would’ve told me to stay away from Brady.

Mom patted my leg. “Let’s head home. I’m getting cold.”

On the ride back, I couldn’t help but realize that we’d talked about Brady as much as we’d talked about Ben on Ben’s remembrance day. It only drove home the point that Ben’s life had been cut short. All there was to talk about were memories. No discussion of what Ben would do after he graduated from college, or about his career, or whether the latest girl was the one he’d marry.

But with Brady, there were endless possibilities ahead for him. He was still alive, getting older, and making choices—good or bad.

Hey, I’m sorry about the other night, Brady texted after I’d gotten home that evening.

It’s fine, I replied.

I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. Sorry.

Now, I didn’t know how to feel. Did he regret trying to kiss me in general? Or just that he’d been drunk?

I was dying to ask, but I was too chicken to do it. Instead, I just told him that maybe we should meet in person soon to talk things over.

Brady called me a few seconds later. “I can’t meet for a bit,” he said by way of greeting.

“It doesn’t have to be right this second.”

“No, I mean, I’m going to Vegas.” Then he sighed. “Shit, I didn’t call you just to tell you this. I wanted to say that I know what day it is. I’m sure you have more important things right now.”

My initial hurt at his texts abated. Brady was one of the few people who’d acknowledged Ben’s death today. Even extended family tended to shy away from mentioning Ben. It drove me crazy, while Mom and Dad said that everyone meant well. They just didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. Now I wondered if I was going to, in fact, cry today. “I miss him a lot.”

“I know you do.”

I told him about how Mom and I went to see Ben’s grave and then had ice cream. I tried to start a conversation about Ben and any memories Brady might have, but Brady changed the subject quickly.

“I do want to see you,” he said, “but I’m going to Vegas to see my mom. I told you that she’s sick.”

“You said she’s dying.”

He sighed. “Did I? Fuck. I forgot. She’s in the ICU, and shit’s not looking good.”

“I’m so sorry.” And I meant it.

“You know, out of everyone who’s said that to me, you’re probably the one person who I believe means it.” He let out a harsh laugh. “I’m expecting a call from my mom’s doctor, so I have to go. But I’ll text you when I get back in town.”

I knew Brady had a lot of complicated feelings about his mom. Of course he did. But if his mom did die, how would he cope? Would he just push us further away like he had when Ben had died?

“Oh, Brady,” I whispered to myself.

What made things worse was that my selfish, silly brain just wanted to know whether he still wanted to kiss me.

What would it be like if he kissed me? Would it be slow and gentle? Or would he kiss me until I couldn’t remember my own name?

I buried my face in my pillow. I was such a mess of emotions right then. Sadness but excitement because Brady had wanted to kiss me.

So what if he’d been drunk? He’d wanted me. I’d never thought he would.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said to myself. “You know it doesn’t matter.”

I could tell myself that until I was blue in the face. But my heart still filled with hope.

What if I’d been wrong? What if Brady could fall for a girl like me after all?