Page 103 of What If We Break?
Even after I moved in, he called me after or before each of his games just to talk. And since I’d moved out, he still called me daily.
Perhaps it wasn’t sheer interest in me and my life after all.
“How do you live with that?” I asked. “How aren’t you losing your mind after everything?”
Colin shrugged. “Because it’s life. It’s unpredictable. You can take as many precautions as you want, never leave the house again, and still die tomorrow. We have two options; live every day like it’s the last, or spend the rest of our lives worrying about the day we die and never truly living in the moment. It’ll end in death either way, but it’s much more fun not to worry about the ending,” he said. “There will be so many ups and downs in your life that you’ll have to learn to thrive through a bad time. It’s going to fucking hurt, yes, but eventually, you’ll find a way to live with it. And you have toremember that you’llneverhave to go through anything painful on your own, Reece. You have an entire army of people around you who love you so much, and while they won’t be able to make the pain disappear, they will help you through it. And they will help you get back onto your feet when you’re ready to try.”
While all that sounded like the most reassuring and probably most real stuff I’d ever heard my brother say… it did little to console me.
46
REECE
Life was great.
I had been staying at home for a week now; no hockey, no skating, no responsibilities. I was thriving. It was the least stressful time I’d had since like… kindergarten.
The TV was turned on, playing some kind of show I didn’t care about, but it was entertaining enough to keep it on. I held a can of an espresso martini in one hand and the remote in the other, just in case I wanted to watch something else. I wasn’t going to move just to switch between channels.
Ever since we moved here, I hadn’t once turned on the TV, but it had been my best friend for the past couple of days now.
It was early in the morning, so coffee was very necessary—the alcohol too. Good days only ever happened if I was drunk, so I had to start early.
“Hey, did you finish…” Brooke trailed off, a deep sigh drawing from her lungs as she stood in the middle of the room. “I guess you didn’t finish your work.”
Since I’d been at home all week and didn’t plan on going back to college for at least another one, Brooke talked to ourprofessors to get my assignments so they hadsomethingto grade.
I had the entire week to finish this project for our sports analytics class. It was super boring, and honestly, I was too busy thinking about what I wanted to drink next to care about that assignment.
I leaned back on the couch, sipping from my espresso martini before responding to my fiancée. “Work? What work?” I asked casually and nudged the papers on the coffee table off onto the floor to hide them from her, but more importantly, my view. If I had to look at that pile of papers for a second longer, I was going to get a headache.
Brooke raised an eyebrow at me, crossing her arms over her perfect chest. “The project for Dr. Lessley’s class? The one that’s due tomorrow?”
I flashed her a charming grin, trying to distract her from the mess of papers scattered on the floor. “Oh, that project. Yeah, don’t worry about it, baby.”
Her eyes narrowed at me, clearly questioning something about me or whatever I said. I didn’t care. Even if she didn’t believe I was going to start working on that stupid project—I really wasn’t—I couldn’t have cared less.
“Reece, you can’t just blow this off. It’s worth a significant portion of your grade,” she scolded me, sounding almost exactly like my father when he was upset about my grades.
Oh, my dad. Right.
He was the reason I was in this mess in the first place. If he hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have been sitting at home and trying to distract my mind.
But, hey, life was treating me very well recently, aside from the fact that I couldn’t even call my dad to talk to him anymore. Whatever, right?
I pushed the thought of my dad away, not wanting to dwell on it. Instead, I focused on Brooke, who was still standing there, arms crossed, and looking more serious than ever.
“If that stupid project is so important to you, then you do it.” I averted my gaze back onto the TV, continuing to sip on my drink.
“Fine.” She walked in front of the TV, kneeling down to pick the papers off the floor. “Did you at least eat something before you opened that espresso martini?”
I shook my head. “Empty stomach, baby.” I held the can up. Food hadn’t been on my mind in a hot minute. The only times I ate was when Brooke forced it down my throat. “But the good news is, I can still see the buttons on the remote.”
Brooke got off the floor, the papers now neatly stacked in her hand. She shot me a disappointed look before heading into the kitchen. I didn’t bother to look, but I could hear her opening some cabinets and rummaging through our fridge.
When she returned a moment later, throwing a pack of cookies at me, I caught it with a surprised laugh.
“You’ll need something more than just alcohol and caffeine to survive,” she said, her tone harsh as she walked over to the couch, snatching the remote from my hand. She turned off the TV, silencing the background noises.
