Page 55 of Grief & Glitter

“I’m not just leaving anything,” I snapped.

“I didn’t mean it like you were deserting Noah,” Dad said then winced.

Noah stared down at his hands.

Dr. Patel leaned forward. “Maybe we should talk about Gideon leaving.”

I blinked at her. “Why? I’m going back to Rochester because I have a job.”

“He plays hockey,” Noah said. I looked at him, and he looked back. What did he mean by that? He didn’t sound as if he was making a point, but I read into it anyway.

Still playing hockey. Still alive.

Then he added, “The Copperheads probably want their star winger back. And you’ve missed four games at least, right?”

“Five,” I corrected him.

Noah blinked then counted them off on his fingers. “Blizzard, Salt Cats, Ironhawks, Timberwolves?”

“You forgot the Colts.”

“I did?” He frowned, closing his eyes briefly. “Was that the night I…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“They won. Three-two.”

“Fuck yes!” Noah sat forward in his chair then caught himself and slumped back as if he’d just remembered where he was. I couldn’t believe he knew the teams, let alone that he cared about the results. What else didn’t I know about my big brother?

How about that he was a mess and needed my help?

Dr. Patel glanced between us. “Gideon, how do you feel about leaving tomorrow?”

I hated therapy questions. Dr. Ellison had spent years asking them, and I still hated every fucking one.

“Fine.” Noah snorted and I glared at him. “What?”

“That’s your answer for everything.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“You said fine when you broke your wrist in high school.”

“It wasn’t broken.”

“It was purple.”

“Bruised.”

“You wore a cast.” Noah stared at me. I stared back. Then, somehow, his mouth moved, barely, a tiny twitch at one corner. It was gone almost immediately, but I’d seen it. So had Dad. Dad looked away fast. Fuck. My throat tightened.

Then, Dr. Patel ruined everything by asking, “When was the last time the two of you joked together?”

Neither of us answered. Because I knew. The lake. Before the lake. Before Ethan. We’d been brothers before Ethan died. I’d forgotten that, or maybe I’d made myself forget because remembering Noah as someone I’d loved made everything that came after hurt more.

“A long time ago,” I said, and Noah nodded.