Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
A dark picture is developing in my gut, of a little boy version of the monster I’m now sitting beside. “What do you mean safest?” I ask carefully.
I don’t want him to say it. I’m praying that I’m wrong. But when Griffin runs his finger along the bridge of his nose, tracing the slight bump of a poorly healed break there, the hope washes away in a flood of horror.
“Oh my God, Griffin!” I gasp. I try to gather him in my arms, wanting to wrap him up in the hug I think the boy inside him still needs, but he pushes me off.
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago,” he says, dismissing it like a parent breaking his nose is a totally normal thing. “I was thirteen then. I’d had a big growth spurt over the summer that year and was taller than my mom and nearly as tall as Dad. I thought I was finally a man.” He flashes a bitter smile. “So the next time they started arguing about groceries and my dad turned on me, shouting that he wasn’t going to keep wasting his hard-earned money on feeding a worthless bastard like me, I stood up to him. Figured out I wasn’t a man yet pretty quick. Mom told me I got what I deserved for being such an ingrate, and I went back to being invisible. For a while anyway. Unfortunately for Dad, I kept growing, and broken ribs hurt a hell of a lot more than a nose, as he found out.”
The smile that steals across his face now is full of successful vengeance, and sends a chill down my spine. I think I should feel shock, or maybe be repulsed. The violence in his family is not something I’m at all familiar with personally. My parents are great, and I’ve always known that. They show up, they’re supportive, they encourage me and Dominic to dream big and take risks. They love us unconditionally.
It sounds like Griffin has never had that a day in his life, so I can’t hold him to the expectations I would have for myself, or for Dom. Griffin’s different because his life has been different. And after revealing that his dad broke his nose when he was a literal child, I think Griffin could tell me that he’d killed his dad and buried him in the backyard under the toolshed, and I’d high-five him and take the secret to my grave. “Whatever you did to him, he deserved it, and worse,” I declare.
“He would probably disagree, but I wouldn’t know. Haven’t talked to them since the day I turned eighteen. I’d like to say I left, but the truth is, they kicked me out once their ‘parental obligation was done,’ as if they ever fulfilled that.” He huffs out a caustic laugh, and I feel like he’s quoting exactly what was said to him.
For never having met his parents, the hatred toward them that fills me is a surprise, because I was raised not to hate. But Griffin didn’t deserve any of that. No child does. And I’m bloodthirsty enough to kinda wish I could have a couple of minutes alone with Mr. and Mrs. Mahoney to punish them for what they did to Griffin.
“My hockey coach let me crash on his couch until I finished school that year, and then I moved out, started busting my ass in amateur and minor leagues, killing myself to get an NHL contract. That was when I met Dominic.”
Knowing Griffin didn’t have a family of his own is very different from the full picture I now have, and I’m starting to understand why Dominic was so adamant about bringing Griffin into our family. “Who loves you, and who you love?” I offer, finally getting why Griffin is so loyal to my brother.
“In a totally bro way,” he clarifies.
Nodding, I give him a tiny grin. “Of course. But that’s what brings us to the ‘bros before hos’ situation we’re in now.” I hold up a finger. “Not that I’m a ho, but you know what I mean.”
“Dom made you sound like a cute little chaos goblin, so I was expecting . . . well, I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you that day when you walked into your parent’s kitchen. You took my breath away.” He looks at me fully for the first time in the last few minutes. His eyes are brighter, like getting all that off his chest lightened the weight he’s been carrying all this time. “You were so damn beautiful, with this light that radiated from you. You felt like the fucking sun. You still do.” He reaches up to take a lock of my hair between his fingers, twisting and twirling it mindlessly, and his breathing steadies out like touching me has somehow soothed the last few minutes away. “My whole life was hockey, and then I saw you. And you were the one person I could never have. You are the one person I can’t have.”