I’m an idiot.
A moron of epic proportions.
Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?
Who the hell cares who her brother is?
I did—but not anymore.
The entire month of March is a blur, the only memory not hazy being the utter devastation on Melody’s beautiful face in JD’s hospital room weeks ago.
Fuck.
I know all about how crappy of a family tree my girl has, and what did I do? I beat her with the branches of it.
I am in love with Melody Brightly (Bishop)—whatever. The name part isn’t important; the fact that I will never stop loving her is.
I need to fix this, but even I know it will take more than a simple apology.
It’s grand gesture time, and it’s a good thing I have an entire orchard of support behind me.
My issues with Nate Bishop are exactly that—mine. They should have no bearing on Mels and me. I’ll have to figure out a way to bury the hatchet—and not in his back like I would prefer—if I want to have a shot at my happily ever after.
It’s time to come clean about the underlying issues the rivalry fed off of once and for all. Owning my shit will fix half the problem.
The other half? Well…Nate and I will have to learn how to deal with it like men and not the immature boys we’ve been acting like.
Before I lose my nerve or throw up—both options equally likely—I click one of the favorites saved in my contacts.
I shuffle my feet, unable to stay still, the ringing on the other end of the line like nails on a chalkboard as I wait for the call to connect.
“Hey, bro.” Ryan’s standard greeting eases the storm brewing inside me.
“Hey, Ry.”
“What’s wrong?” Leave it to him to pick up on my distress immediately.
I swallow down the hockey puck in my throat and remind myself this is Ryan, my big brother, my closet confidant outside of the person I shared a womb with. I can tell him anything without him taking offense.
“You busy?” I ask instead of answering.
“Not really. I was gonna head over to Chance’s to watch the Fire game, but that’s not as important as whatever is going on with you right now.”
I’m tight with most of the guys on the Storm, but the Blizzards are a cohesive family under Ryan’s leadership. The things that make him a great captain are all the things that make him the best big brother.
“You’re home?”
“Yup.”
“Video chat?” I’m already stepping into my living room and grabbing the remote.
“Sure.” There’s a click and the call disconnects. A couple of seconds later a goofy picture of Ryan with glittery makeup courtesy of Carlee fills my television.
“All right, little brother. Tell me what ails you.”
I swear, being a smartass has to be in our DNA.
Where do I start?
How do I start?
How do I tell my older brother, one of my biggest supporters, the guy who would lay down his life for those he loves that I’ve felt inadequate because he’s my brother?
“I take it this is about Melody?” he asks after I’ve been silent for a minute.
“She’s part of it.”
“And the other part?”
“Um…” I shift forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and drop my head into my hands, raking them through my hair.
“Look.” I lift my head to see Ryan has shifted to mirror my stance, blue eyes locked on the camera. “I understand you feel betrayed by her not telling you Bishop is her brother—a topic we can discuss at another time—but if you love her, you can’t let her go.”
“I know.”
“Take it from someone who lost the love of his life for good—it sucks. There’s nothing I can do about my situation, but you can.”
I fill my lungs fully before letting the breath out of my mouth in a steady stream of air.
“I already decided that before I called. I even have an idea for how I can win her back, but none of it will matter if I can’t make peace with Bishop first.”
Ryan nods, looking so much like our dad when we did something to make him proud it’s scary.
“Melody’s family is nothing like ours. Her parents don’t even go see her shows. They just don’t go. Like who does that?”
I jump up from the couch, unable to sit still any longer.
“Not all text threads have to turn into Coven Conversations, but damn…how does a parent not text their child back? Or return their phone calls?”
Left, right. Left, right.
Reach the end of the couch, spin on my heel.
Left, right. Left, right.
Other end, turn around.
“You know she told me she can go months at a time without hearing from them?” I keep pacing and look toward the TV to see a deep frown on Ryan’s face.
Any time I think of the craptastic things my girl had to—and still does—deal with, I feel all rage-y like the Hulk. Children need more from their parents than bankrolling. There has not been one major event in my life or my siblings’ lives that at least one of my parents hasn’t been there for, and they have sons playing on two different NHL teams.
“Nate…” His name comes out a little growly. Sorry, but it does. Rome wasn’t built in a day, people. “He is the only member of her family who has made a point of seeing her in every single production she’s been a part of. I can’t be the wedge that comes between them.”
Ryan’s eyes bounce between mine and I know he’s taking his time, figuring out what to ask, and how.
“What is your beef with the guy anyway? It’s gone on too long for it to be about what happened at hockey camp. Hell, even the Olympics were more than two years ago—it can’t still be about any of that.”
“Ummm…” I drop my gaze again, ashamed to admit this part of the saga. “I may have led him to believe I hooked up with his girlfriend after we beat his team in the Frozen Four.”
“You were dating Rocky then.”
“I don’t think he realized I had a girlfriend, or…I don’t know. Maybe he thought I didn’t care if I did.” I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t actually hook up with his girlfriend—I just let him think I did.”
“Does Rocky know this?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I can’t keep the disbelief out of my voice. I like being alive. It doesn’t matter that nothing happened; she would have killed me on principle alone.
“So why the hell would you do something like that?”
Now for the hard part.
I can do this.
I will do this.
It’s for Mels, for my Sweet Potato.
“It was my way of getting back at him for all the digs he made.”
“Well, he needs to find a hobby or something because that’s exactly what he spews—crap. He really should hire ATS to handle his social media so he stops posting bullshit about you and keeps his feed relevant to himself. Nothing he’s ever said is true.”
“Isn’t it though?” My voice breaks on the last word. I’m petrified of Ryan saying yes.
“The fuck?” Incredulous blue eyes blaze like the hottest part of a flame. I guess I should be grateful we are doing this on video chat and not in person. The back of my head tingles as if it, too, knows it would have been smacked if Ryan were here.