An hour ago, I was a guy that had it allâa rising career playing professional hockey, the best stats of any rookie in the league, great teammates, and a cold beer in my hand on a Sunday afternoon.
Maybe that doesnât sound like a lot, but growing up with nothing, it felt like Iâd finally achieved something. I felt on top of the world. At peace. You know the bad thing about peace is that it never holds. If it did, itâd just be called status quo.
Life is a series of ups and downs with mere moments where you look around, take a deep breath, and think this is what itâs all about. Then your seventeen-year-old sister arrives and shoots that peace to shit. Maybe I didnât have it all, but what I did have was my sanity and an apartment to myself.
Both of those are fading fast.
âYou can take my room,â I say as I bring my favorite pillow and a spare blanket with me to the couch.
Everly still lingers in the doorway as if sheâs just now realized she traveled five hours to squat with her half-brother in his messy, one bedroom apartment. I didnât say my apartment was ritzy, just that it was my own. Itâd be easy to blow my salary on a huge house with all the bells and whistles, but this place feels more like home. Plus, itâs walking distance to the arena.
âGross. Iâm not sleeping in your bed. Thereâs no telling how many girls youâve had in there.â She scrunches up her face to show her disgust.
I run my fingers through my hair and tug at the long strands. Needing a haircut is the least of my worries right now. I have an early practice in the morning and a big game on Tuesday. I need one hundred percent of my focus on hockey.
âI changed the sheets this morning,â I say, which is true. Also, Everly is the only girl thatâs stepped foot in this apartment since I moved in five months ago. Iâm sure she wouldnât believe me, and Iâm not about to share my sex life, however nonexistent, with my sister.
Having it all requires a lot of time and effort. I didnât come this far or work this hard to not give hockey everything I have. Besides, I donât do dating or relationships. Not anymore.
She takes one step farther into the apartment. I can see her, assessing, judging, but she doesnât say anything else as she lets her backpack drop to the floor next to her scuffed boots. She didnât bring much with her, so hopefully that means she isnât serious about staying.
I plop down on the couch. This thing is gonna be a bitch to sleep on. âWant to tell me what made you decide to hop on a bus to see me? Or why you were suspendedâ¦again?â
Her posture stiffens. âIâm tired. Can we talk tomorrow?â
Youâd think Iâd deserve some sort of explanation for her showing up on my doorstep claiming sheâs quitting high school and wants to live with me, but Everly always was one that held her thoughts and feelings inside until you wanted to shake them from her. I guess that hasnât changed.
The last suspension was for punching a classmate. The girl was bullying her, so I hadnât worried at the time. But two suspensions in a year?
âWe need to talk, Everly.â
She groans. âYou sound like Mom.â
âWhy are you here?â
âI told you. I want to live here.â
âNot going to happen.â
She has the audacity to look surprised. âWhy not?â
âLots of reasons. Letâs start with the obvious. Iâm not your parent and you need to finish high school.â
âIâm not going back to that prison. Besides, I turn eighteen next week.â
âWhat happened, Ev?â
âCan we please do this tomorrow?â
Iâd like to press her, but itâs late and I have an early morning so maybe I donât want to get into it, and hold on to whatever sense of false security and solitude I have left.
âSure. Get some rest,â I say.
She puts one foot in front of the other. With each step her strides get a little more confident. Thereâs an awkwardness between us that wasnât always there. In my quest to get away from home and make something of myself, I havenât always done the best job of staying in touch.
âHey, Ev,â I say, before she disappears into my room.
She pauses and glances over her shoulder but doesnât speak.
âItâs good to see you. I like your hair.â The blonde strands are longer, hanging down her back. In the six months since I saw her last, Everly has changed a lot but that feels like the least confrontational thing to point out. Sheâs skinnierâtoo skinny, her makeup is heavier, and I spotted a rose tattoo along her wrist Iâve never seen before.
Normal, teenage girl things, I guess, but itâs the combination of all those things mixed with the defeated look on her face thatâs kept me from turning her away or packing her up in my car and driving her back home myself.
That look disintegrates as she rolls her eyes at me and walks into my bedroom. She slams the door for good measure. Good talk.
I let out a long breath and groan as I try to get comfortable on the couch. Itâs just one night. Thereâs no way sheâs serious about living here. Iâm not in any position to take care of her, even if she is almost an adult. My life is routine and structured down to what time I go to sleep each night and when I eat every meal.
And our mom would never go for it. She might not be the worldâs greatest parent, but she couldnât possibly be okay with her underage daughter dropping out of school and moving out of state. Although when I tried to call to let her know Ev was here, she didnât answer. An uneasy feeling settles on my chest. What the hell did you do, Everly?
Whatever happened, everyone just needs a night to cool off. Sheâll wake up, talk to Mom, have a change of heart, and want to go back home. Then I can have my apartment and sanity back. Just one night.