I pull up to the departure terminal, where my dad said he’d be waiting for me. Going to the departures instead of the arrivals is a weird quirk my dad swears by. He must be on to something though, since there is minimal traffic here compared to the line I saw for arrivals.
My dad is waiting, leaning against a cement pillar with his hiking backpack and a duffle bag. I pull up to the curb and get out to give him a tight hug.
We’ve come a long way in two years—a testament to the weekly virtual therapy sessions we complete together.
“How was the flight, old man?”
He lightly smacks my arm. “Who are you calling old? I’m still a spry and steady surgeon. I’ve still got a few decades before you can justify calling me that.”
I shake my head at his nonsense. “Steady, maybe. Spry? We’ll see if you can put your money where your mouth is when we’re hiking to our fishing spot tomorrow,” I tease as I toss his bags in the back of my Jeep.
Our plan is to drive to Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park today, which is almost a five-hour drive. We’ll stay at a hotel tonight and then get up early, get our campsite set up at the park, and hike to one of the trout streams. We like to fish as much as we can, and this National Park is supposed to have good trout fishing this time of year.
We’re about thirty minutes into the drive when my dad finally brings it up—the discussion I was hoping to avoid for at least a day or two.
“Did you hear Carson signed with Minnesota?”
“I did.” I grip the wheel a little tighter trying to ease the ache in my chest that comes any time I think of my former childhood best friend, which inevitably makes me think of his twin sister.
“They’re going to have a hell of a team this season. Carson will fill the gap they had on the second line after they traded Fuller.”
I hum in response, hoping he’ll get the hint that I don’t want to talk about this.
Clearly, he doesn’t pick up what I’m putting down because he continues, “It was just announced yesterday that Bennett Wilson will be the team captain this year for the Wolverines. I’m glad Carson will have him to look up to. Bennett has always had a good head on his shoulders.”
“He has,” I agree. Bennett is a year older than me, and his brother Jackson is Carson’s age. “Have you heard anything about Jackson signing with Minnesota? Or is he going to play another season for Harvard?” I ask.
“It sounds like they’re going to see how training camp goes before making a decision,” my dad replies.
I love playing for Colorado—it’s always been my dream team to play for. When I was drafted by them, I was ecstatic. But I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that Carson gets to play with Bennett and possibly Jackson, in our home state.
No matter where I live, Minnesota will always be home. How could it not be when I left my heart and soul there two years ago?
22
October
Today is by far the biggest moment of my brother’s life. Carson is playing in his first, regular-season NHL game this afternoon. He was drafted to the Minnesota Wolverines shortly after Cadence was born, but they wanted him to play another year of college hockey before signing him.
My parents, Cadence, and I are all here today to support him, and today’s game is an afternoon game. The 3 p.m. start time is great for Cadence’s current nap schedule.
We’re at the arena early, in our black and lime green jerseys with Wilder on the back, waiting for Carson to come on the ice for his rookie lap. It’s a tradition the league does with rookies at their first regular-season game. I know Carson has been waiting for this moment for his entire life.
Even though this is the biggest game of my brother’s career, a part of me is dreading being here. Not because I don’t want to support him, but because Carson plays the Colorado Summits—the team Griffin now plays for.
After almost two years, I wish I could forget that man exists. Or at least stop the butterflies from taking flight in my stomach when I think of him. Even after he shattered my heart and abandoned hisdaughter—not even acknowledging her existence—my body and heart still betray me.
Griffin Turner had the nerve to call me on my birthday and then just hang up. Where does he get off?
I wish he wouldn’t have hung up so I could’ve let him have it.
Oh, you want to wish me a happy birthday and call me by the name of endearment you gave me? How about you call me to ask how your daughter is doing? Or ask anything about her, since you know jack shit!
Instead, he took the coward’s way out. He used a blocked number, knowing I couldn’t contact him in return. And his old number? No longer in service. I’ve tried. I thought maybe he had blocked my number, but that wasn’t the case. He just disconnected the number altogether. Conveniently, right after I texted him telling him he has a daughter.
But today isn’t about Griffin. It’s about Carson.
I’ve prepared myself, knowing I’ll see Griff out on the ice. Thankfully, after we watch Carson’s rookie lap, we get to watch the rest of the game from the family and friends suite they set us up with, so seeing Griffin Turner from a distance won’t be as difficult to get through.
