Page 3 of Ethan

“You guys all have your coats on?” Mom called from the kitchen.

“Yeah!” Charlie yelled back.

“Avery?” Mom asked. “You made sure Ethan’s okay?”

Charlie made a face and Ethan echoed him.

“Mom,” Ethan whined as she appeared in front of them. “I’m fine! I’m not a little kid anymore!”

Charlie snickered under his breath and Ethan shoved an elbow into his side. Maybe Charlie and Avery had been told not to fight with Ethan, but Ethan could do anything he wanted tothem.

It wasn’t perfect but Ethan was going to take advantage of it.

“Right, so big!” she echoed, grinning at him.

Her gaze sharpened as she took in Charlie, wearing the bright red Blackhawks jersey with its 88 on the back.

“No Crosby today?”

“It didn’t fit over my coat,” Charlie sulked. “Could I—”

“No,” she said firmly.

“Guess he finally grew some,” Avery said under his breath.

“I’m gonna kick your butt,” Charlie retorted with heat.

“Maybe you finally can now,” Avery said, grinning.

“I’m gonna—”

“Boys,” Mom interrupted gently. She turned to Avery. “Watch your brothers, okay?”

“Always do,” Avery said, suddenly very serious.

He always did. Was annoying about how careful he was about their gear. Yelled at Ethan every time he tried to take his hat off.

“Your gear’s in the garage, in the bin,” she said. Ruffled Charlie’s hair, who squirmed out of her grasp. “Guess you’re going to want a new Crosby for Christmas, huh?”

“But I wanted a new pair of gloves,” Charlie whined.

“Maybe Santa’ll bring you both,” she murmured, the corner of her mouth tilting up into a half smile.

Ethan wasn’t surprised. Charlie got whatever he wanted, just by existing and being really freaking good at hockey.

When they got out to the garage, Avery was already pulling gear out of the box. Skates and gloves and sticks and a bag of pucks.

Most of them were Sharks pucks, since that was where Dad worked, before he went to work for the US program.

The program that Avery was just on the verge of joining.

Charlie had been complaining about it plenty, how next year Avery would be playing “grown-up hockey.”

Ethan didn’t mind. Only thought that he was going to miss his big brother, as insufferable and bossy as he could be. Always thinking he knew best, even though he was only fourteen.

“Slowpoke,” Charlie whined, as he twirled his stick between his gloved hands. “Hurryup.”

“Mean,” Avery said, but in a nice kind of way.