Mister Hockey (Hellions Angels #1)(38)

“Not at all.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m probably going to retire.”

There it was. The words were finally spoken out loud.

“Get out before what, you’re a fuckup like me?” Travis’s words took on a bite. “That’s great. Real great. Tell you what though. While the rest of the world thinks of you as some sort of big hero, I know the truth. The real Jed West is a piece of shit who abandoned his brother.” His voice rose in volume. “Left his sister-in-law and only nephew financially without help and living hand-to-mouth.”

“What are you talking about?” Jed’s back stiffened, steel in his spine. “I have money deposited into your account every month. If it’s not enough, I didn’t know, no one ever told me.”

But should they have had to? Tam was proud, not the type to come to him hat in hand.

“Do me a solid and admit the truth,” Travis continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Admit that you don’t think about us. That we aren’t big winners and therefore not worth your time. Because big deal Jed West only surrounds himself with successes. I get it. I remember how it went in our house, but—”

“I hate asking this, man, but give it to me straight.” Jed’s gut was a knot. Substance abuse added fuel to the fire of Travis’s injury. Objectively, he knew his brother’s front lobe injury caused ugly thoughts and addictive behavior. But it was another thing to be on the wrong end of one of his binges. “Are you drinking?”

Christ, Tam had done the right thing getting her son out of the home. Josh didn’t need to be around this. “Do you need me to fly out there because I can be on a plane tonight, scratch that, I can be on one in a few hours.”

There was a click and exhale. What the hell? Was his brother smoking too?

“Why did you call?” Travis’s voice slurred.

Jed paused, maybe honesty would help build a bridge, break through what felt like insurmountable barriers. “Like I said. I’ve been thinking about my life. What I’m doing. Made me think of you too.”

“Gotcha.” Another exhale. “Guess it wasn’t enough you tried to be like me growing up.” Travis gave a hoarse bitter laugh. “Now you’re still trying to follow in your big bro’s footsteps. Make sure you tell Dad. He’ll be so fucking proud. Both of his boys. Both winners.”

“Travis, baby,” Tamara pleaded in the background. “Put down the phone. Come inside and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“Don’t call here anymore.” Travis slammed down the phone so hard that Jed’s ear rang.

It didn’t take long for Tamara to give him a follow-up text: I asked your mom to email you an update. It’s too hard to talk when he is in these moods.

Jed sank back into his chair, refreshing his inbox until at last Mom’s email popped in. Looked like one of her infrequent, short and to-the-point updates. One that managed to say everything and nothing at all.

Subject: Travis

Message: Hope this note finds you well. Your brother is being moved from his home to a long-term care facility. In addition to his chronic irritability and aggression, he is now demonstrating worrying signs of mania. His spending habits are out of control and he was arrested yesterday for aggravated assault outside their local grocery store. It is likely CTE but as the doctors told us, the condition is impossible to diagnose at this time.

Best

Mom



“Ah shit.” He tossed his phone onto the car seat and buried his face in his hands. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

CTE, or chronic brain encephalopathy, couldn’t be diagnosed outside of an autopsy, but the hallmark symptoms were memory loss, confusion, impaired judgment, aggression and the depressing laundry list went on and on.

Jed had one guess where the money had gone that he’d been sending. Nowhere good. Travis must have spent it. But, shit. A dull pain throbbed in his temples as he rubbed his forehead. His big brother was still his big brother. Would always be his brother. But there was no doubt that the man he was, the man he should be now, was gone forever, a stranger.

And even after all this time, that fact still made his stomach turn.

After his brother’s injury, his parents had faded away. They still got together for Christmas once in a while. But they seemed to have wrapped themselves in some sort of shield. Maybe unable to bear seeing Jed or be happy for his success because of the guilt over what their other—favorite—son had had and lost.

And maybe Jed never quite forgave their dad for riding his sons’ asses, demanding nothing but the best. Bile rose in Jed’s throat. He was good at keeping these shitty feelings on lockdown. Too good.

He started driving and his turns weren’t aimless. He was going to the library. He needed to see Breezy. To see her smile. Hear her laugh. Because she’d settle him. It’s what she did. He could want her too. Lose himself in her beautiful body all over again afterward while she sang funny little songs under her breath or confessed sweet dreams like opening a children’s bookstore.

He pulled into the Rosedale Branch Library and didn’t even get out of his car. Because there was Breezy coming through the front door, looking like someone had drowned her pet kitten.

She stopped short upon seeing him.

“You can’t be here,” she said stiffly.