We show him to the room Merc planned on giving him before we thought he wasn’t coming anymore.
“As punishment for wasting my money, not telling anyone where you were and generally being a pain in my ass, you get to set up your own room,” Merc announces.
As far as punishments go, it’s not much of one. The room has already been cleaned. The bed linen needs to be put on the bed, but it’s been freshly washed.
“Unpack. Washroom’s down the hall. Jack,” he says to me, tilting his head as an indication to follow him.
Did he think I was gonna stay with the figure-skating ice prince? No way. I follow Merc to our bedroom where he shuts the door and I do finally put Stanley down in his bassinet because turns out, twelve pounds gets heavy after a while. Yeah, he weighs twelve pounds already. He was a hefty eight when he was born and he’s been putting on a solid pound a week. I’m convinced he’ll be playing in the NHL by the time he’s out of diapers at this rate.
Merc’s panicking a bit. The side only I get to see because we’re partners. He doesn’t open up like this to everyone because he thinks he has to be all “Head of the Family”. He is, but heads of the family get to have moments too.
“Fucking Christ, Jack. I know why Mom sent him to me.” He stares at the ground and when he looks up, there are tears.
“Oh babe, c’mere.” I wrap my arms around him. “Tell me.”
“This is—fuck, can you please have a family crisis for once so it’s not always me?”
“Merc, I don’t care what it is. I told you, we’re in whatever shit we get into together. Remember that because I’m way younger and it’s likely I have a lot more shit to come our way.”
He nods, smiling against my cheek. “He’s got an eating disorder. That’s just to start.”
“You sure? I hate to bring him up, but Rhett was just like that. Super neurotic about everything he put in his body because of hockey.”
I probably should be somewhat cognizant about nutrition without someone making me, but I was blessed with the captain’s genetics and while good food definitely makes a difference in my recovery, I can get by consuming some junk food and a decent amount of beer.
“I’d still argue that’s a form of disordered eating when it becomes a neurosis, but this is different than that. He needs good nutrition, or his bones’ll break with all the strain of his demanding sport. God, it makes my stomach turn just thinking about it.”
“We’ll find a way to help him. What else did you devise in the five seconds you met him?”
“Mom sent him to me because she doesn’t have any money, which means he doesn’t have any money.”
“He’s an adult, why wouldn’t she just make him get a job?”
“Figure-skating. Skating is all the kid has. Even without saying much about it, it’s his identity.”
“He has a scholarship.”
“Yeah, and that’s about it. It’s not a full-ride scholarship. He still needs money for living expenses and maybe books depending on if they’re included or not. He’ll need whatever figure-skating shit figure skaters need. Rent in Vancouver is ridiculous enough, I don’t even want to think about what it costs for an apartment in New York. Even the on-campus housing will be through the roof. If I somehow manage to fix a thousand cars this summer, it won’t be enough.”
“I’ll see if Travis will give him a job at The Wicklow,” I say. “He should contribute financially even if it’s nominal. It builds character and self-esteem and oh,God. I sound like the captain now.”
Merc laughs. “A bit. Fuck. He’s already breaking my damn heart. Guess I’m a sucker for my family.”
“Sometimes, but lucky for you, I’m rich and can therefore fund all your philanthropist endeavors. Also, I’ll be in New York next season, he can live with me.”
“No way, Jack. You’re not paying for my brother. Not happening.”
“That’s bullshit, Merc,” I whisper yell. “We’re equals in this partnership. What’s eight million dollars a year if I can’t spend it on the ones I love?”
“He’s been horrible to you.”
“Aw, Merc. I wasn’t offended. Well, the gorillas on skates was a low blow, but I’ve been conditioned to ignore that kind of ribbing my entire life having two older brothers and hanging out with the crew. Besides, he’s like a kitten with a thorn in his paw, don’t you think? Doesn’t mean I won’t want to strangle him from time to time, but I’m not gonna hold it against him. Anyway, it’s deeper than him. We’re a team. C’mon. Let me be your brother’s sugar daddy—ew, that’s just wrong. Sounded funnier in my head. Let me beyoursugar daddy.”
The goal is achieved though, and he’s laughing at my ridiculous and offside joke. He sighs. “Okay, fine, but I’m keeping track of whatever you pay for Logan, and it comes off of the amount for buying out half of our house.”
“Our house?” I say, holding strong because if he thinks he’s gonna get a shocked face from me over that one, he’s wrong.
“Ours. We’re the fucking Meyer-Leslie Bunch now, okay?”
