by Mignon Mykel
His shoulders were shaking.
“Oh, Porter,” I mumbled, my heart further shattering.
I quickly lost my clothes and stepped into the shower behind him, wrapping my arms tightly around his shaking form. I pressed my cheek to his back but it wasn’t long before he unwrapped my arms from his side, turning so he could crush me to his front.
And he cried.
He cried into my hair as the water fell around us.
He cried for the little girl he loved, who he knew he was losing.
And I cried with him.
Going back to South Carolina had been hard, but Asher and I had things we needed to accomplish before the season started.
For the very first time in my professional career, I found myself wishing I stuck with my family and allowed the Enforcers to pick me up when I was just a rookie without a minute of professional ice time.
Being in San Diego would have been easy.
Being on the other side of the fucking country, was not.
Even with moving into a house, we weren’t busy enough. We spent a week moving completely before going back to San Diego. Ash had to reschedule her trip to see Carter. I tried telling her to go but she just shook her head; she wasn’t leaving the family.
Now, with the season coming up, she would likely have to visit her friend on her own, and I felt like a bastard for it. I’d been pretty excited to meet the first person Asher met on her journey to becoming the Asher who laid beside me every night. The one who laughed freely now.
The one I loved with my entire being.
The one who, when I picked out a teddy bear for my niece when she was first admitted, also made friendship bracelets for Bri, the bear, and me.
Bri loved that damn bear. It was in bed with her, and if she wasn’t in bed, it was on her IV pole as she walked the halls of the hospital. Now, at home for the last three days, it still never left her side.
Today was the last day I could be in San Diego though. I was due to camp after the weekend was up. My flight didn’t leave until nine tonight; I was spending every minute with my niece.
Asher and I walked up to my brother’s front door. She held my hand, and with her other, mindlessly played with the colorful thin threads adorning my left wrist.
Quiet.
Quiet.
Quiet.
Not even the fucking birds were singing.
Today was going to be hard. Fuck, I wanted to stay, but I had obligations. Asher told me she would stay, and as badly as I needed her with me, I was grateful she would be here with our niece and family.
Caleb and Sydney elected to bring Brielle home. Something about her being more comfortable. She still had home-visiting nurses coming though.
I pushed open the front door to Cael’s house and was surprised to not see my nephews playing in the living room. The only person in the living room was Jonny, and it was as if he’d been waiting for us.
And his face…
Asher’s hand tightened in mine and my stomach dropped.
It fucking bottomed out at the expression on Jonny’s face.
My brother stepped forward and I could read it all over him. The tightness near his eyes. He opened his mouth but I shook my head.
“No.”
“I just got here, and—”
“No,” I repeated. “No. Not Bri. No.” I tugged my hand free of Asher’s and stormed toward Brielle’s room.
The door was closed.
And I found I couldn’t bring myself to open it. I couldn’t get myself to lift my hand to touch the door knob.
Suddenly Asher was in front of me. She took my face in her hands, forcing me to look down at her. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears and I could feel as my mind started to accept this, could feel as the tears started to pool in my own eyes. “Everyone’s in Caleb’s room,” she whispered to me.
I let her take my hand again, pulling me away.
It was easy to be optimistic when you were just visiting. When you didn’t live with the knowledge someone could be taken away from you without a moment’s notice.
Even though Caleb and Sydney had talked just the other day about how Bri’s tumors weren’t responding to treatment, and that their choice to bring her home was for comfort purposes, none of this seemed real. Just weeks ago—hell, less than three months—Bri was playing in the lake with her uncles and brothers.
I brought Porter to the master bedroom, where everyone but Brody and Brooks were. He stopped in the doorway, not budging. I looked over my shoulder and followed his gaze forward.
On the bed, crying softly, was his oldest brother and wife, cradling a sleeping Brielle.
But she wasn’t sleeping.
Brandon was sitting in front of them, his hand holding his baby sister’s.
As hard as I tried to, I couldn’t be strong for Porter anymore. My tears poured freely now, seeing his entire family crammed into this bedroom. Avery looked up from her place in a folding chair and stood, walking over to us.
Without a word, she folded both of us into her arms.
And I could feel Porter breaking behind me, his body shuddering.
Fuck cancer.
“He won’t take it,” Sydney told me, finding me in the living room by myself. I had been on my way to find her, to ask if she needed me to do anything for her.
She held out the soft brown bear Porter gave Bri hardly months before. “Can you please take it home with you? Brielle would want him to have it.” Sydney tried giving the bear to Porter before the funeral, but he later put it in Bri’s casket, tucking it in against her body.
Such a tiny box for a bright girl with a big personality.
I nodded, taking the bear from her. “I will.” Sydney gave me a sad smile. She was trying so damn hard to stay strong today, although she certainly cried. This was probably the first time today I’d seen her almost dry-eyed, and without Caleb at her side.
The boys—Porter, Caleb, and Jonny—were in the kitchen, where their dad and the men in Sydney’s family were, as well as the Enforcers players who came to pay their respects. Brody and Brooks, who didn’t understand the day, were playing in the backyard, while Brandon had closed himself off in his bedroom the moment we returned to the house.
I pulled her into a hug, holding her tight. “I am so sorry, Sydney,” I managed to whisper into her ear. Sydney’s arms wrapped around me, squeezing me tightly. She didn’t have words to give me, but I didn’t expect them.
How do you bury your child?
I couldn’t even begin to fathom, but she and Caleb were doing well today, keeping everything together.
“I’m so incredibly impressed by you and Caleb,” I told her, still hugging her close. They were probably the wrong words to say, but they were true nonetheless. “I don’t think I could be as strong as you two.” The world was so damn cruel.
Sydney’s laugh was wet, but not the least bit jovial.
She pulled back and brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear, giving me that sad smile again. “Sometimes you don’t have a choice. I have three little boys I have to be strong for. Brandon…”
I nodded. “He’s taking it really hard.”
Sydney’s eyes filled with tears as she nodded. “That hurts. There’s not much I can do for him. He was prepared, but really? How do you prepare? How do you get ready to lose a family member?’
She was talking about herself, too, I could hear it. I wanted to say they would be fine, but what did I know?
Sydney’s heavy sigh moved through her body and she reached for my hands. Tears still in her eyes, she shrugged. “You have to keep moving forward.” Then her tears flooded her eyes, pouring down her cheeks, as she managed, “I’m pregnant. And I hate myself just a little bit, because I can’t be happy about it right now.”
“Oh, Sydney,” I breathed out, pulling her back in for a hug. Now, I really didn’t have words.
So, I did the only thing I could. I hugged
her, holding her tight, until her tears subsided.
And then I watched as that tiny woman walked over to her husband, the two of them together the picture of strength.
I couldn’t imagine what they were going through right now. I couldn’t put myself in their shoes.
But I knew they would get through.
Because if they couldn’t?
I had little hope left in this world.
I walked into the house after the Rockets’ first training camp. Already, the coaches were telling me I was going to be taking Thistle’s spot on the team.
I learned a few things from the man last season, but apparently my attitude this season was going to need some adjusting. Coach’s words.
So, I had a chip on my shoulder.
So, I was a bit pissed at the world.
If I had to bring it to the ice, then so be it.
I couldn’t bring it to my family, they were all grieving. It had only been two weeks since Brielle passed.
I couldn’t bring it home, because Asher shut down.
To be fair though, I shut down too.
We hadn’t spent too much time here before all hell broke loose, so the place still felt new and foreign. I didn’t have a fucking clue which light switches did what, and with the fact it was so damn gloomy outside right now, a light on in this fucking place would be nice.
But there weren’t any on.
Where the hell was Asher?
We didn’t talk much during the day, these last few weeks. If she wasn’t here, on her computer editing images, she was out shooting them. And as for me? I was usually on the ice. It was the only place I could find freedom.
I took that back.
At night…
We may have been separate and grieving on our own during the day, but I always woke with Asher in my arms. It was as if my body didn’t know how to keep her away.
I didn’t want to keep her away.
“Ash?” I called out, walking through the place. I didn’t bother trying to figure out switches as I moved through the open space. The middle of the home was the living room and kitchen, but then the master bedroom was to the left, and then there were two bedrooms on the right.
Turning down the left hall, I listened for any sound of her.
Nothing.
I pushed through the partially open bedroom door, and found Asher sitting on the floor, her back to our bed, a suitcase and clothes surrounding her. She was staring in front of her, at the dresser stationed there.
And my heart fucking stopped beating.
“What are you doing?” I croaked out.
She turned her head toward me and, for the first time, I could see what these last weeks—fuck, the last months—had done to her.
Her mouth was tight, and her eyes a dull, lifeless green. She had bags under them.
From lack of sleep? From pain?
Shit, did I do that to her?
I wanted to go to her, but I was glued to my spot in the doorway.
She wasn’t leaving.
She couldn’t be leaving.
We’d been through too much shit in the years we’d been together.
“I moved up my trip to see Carter,” she finally said.
A breath of relief rushed through me. She wasn’t leaving.
“I can’t be here right now,” she continued.
I found the muscle to move, clearing the space between her and dropping to my knees. If she couldn’t be here right now…
Shit, it was me. She was leaving because of me.
Again, I fought off the panic and reached for her hand. “I’m sorry.”
Asher shook her head and gave me a sad smile. “It’s not you, Porter. I mean…we’re both dealing with this loss by shutting down, but I can’t be here when you don’t talk to me.” She squeezed my hand before pulling it away. “I’m driving. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I’ll be home before your first game.”
“That’s three weeks.”
She nodded, but rather than say anything, she turned and zipped up her suitcase, leaving the other clothes on the floor. She was always after me for picking up my clothes.
“Asher, talk to me,” I begged.
She stood, lifting the handle of her suitcase. “Porter, I would have talked to you, but you shut me out. Two weeks of coming home, waiting for you to say something. Two weeks of us living here in this big space, that Nico put our stuff in. It’s not even our place, Porter!” She shook her head. “We live in a rental that literally just has our furniture in it. Your furniture.” Then she paused, worrying her bottom lip as her eyes filled with tears. I felt sick to my stomach.
I promised her I’d hold her through her tears, and here I was, the cause of them.
“Did you know you haven’t told me you loved me since the day Bri died? Before we got to Caleb’s house? I know you love me, but…” She shrugged sadly, blinking quickly until the tears were gone, just leaving a glassy sheen behind. “I just need time.” Asher stepped around me, and I couldn’t help but notice she went not to brush against me.
I followed her through the house, then outside to her car.
That was another thing we were supposed to do together, but Asher ended up doing on her own. We had spent so much time in San Diego in August, it didn’t get done until, apparently, this week. Her little Kia Rio sat next to my luxury car. She should be driving, at the minimum, a Lexus.
But I dropped the ball on that one.
Add it to my list of fuck-ups.
How did I go these last two weeks without seeing her? Why was it taking this moment for me to realize…
I could fucking lose her over this.
And it would be completely my fault.
My fault for shutting her out, for not allowing myself to grieve alongside her. For not letting her grieve alongside me.
I watched as she pulled her suitcase up, putting it into the tiny trunk space of her car. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans, just watching her.
I had nothing to say.
That was wrong.
I had so much to say.
I just didn’t know how to say it. I couldn’t say it. Not past the lump in my throat or the tightness in my chest.
So, I didn’t.
I wanted to kiss her goodbye, but I couldn’t.
With another sad smile, she got into her little car and pulled down the driveway, and I was reminded of another time, not that long ago, that I failed to tell her I loved her.
I squeezed the bridge of my nose.
Goddamn, I was fucking all this up.
I went back into the house and grabbed my cell from the counter where I’d dropped it and my keys a little while ago. I pulled up Asher’s name and paused at the picture I used as her contact.
It was the selfie I took in bed years ago.
My heart felt ten times too big for my chest.
Quickly, I typed out a message, not caring if letters were wrong or if it didn’t make sense. That was what autocorrect was for.
I love you. please drive safe and tell me when you get there
She wouldn’t check her texts until she came to a red light, or worse, when she stopped for gas. Knowing it was pointless to wait for her reply, I put my phone down and headed to our room.
I picked up her clothes in silence, putting some of the things in the dresser, but bringing others to her closet. When I had nothing left to do, I stood in the middle of our room, hands on my hips, and looked at the place.
It was pretty fucking bare.
Oh, it had the things that came from the townhouse, but nothing in this room said it was mine and Asher’s.
Fuck, nothing in this house screamed it, either.
Just like she said.
I grabbed my phone again and typed out a text to Nico. Asher was going to need time, I knew that, but there were somethings I could do help ease the shit-storm I brought upon us.
By that n
ight, the house looked more like a home. I knew Asher wasn’t girly enough to have any real input in the house—I mean, she lived in the guest house, without adding a thing to it, for nearly four years—but there was still room for her to add her touch.
Like paint.
She could help me paint.
As it was, Nico helped me pick out some really cool oversized vases and stick things, and then candles, because girls liked candles, before helping me come up with a plan for the rest of the place.
And then he told me that I needed to fix what was going on in my head. There was good grieving, and there was grieving that would push everyone you loved away—and that that was what I’d been doing to Asher.
Her words played over and over in my head, whenever I had a down minute. I can’t be here while you shut me out.
For the fiftieth time that day, at least, I checked my phone. It had been five hours since she left. She should have gotten to Cherry Point by now.
Fuck, I really screwed up.
I looked up at the ceiling, as if it would have magic words for me.
It didn’t.
With a sigh, I headed to the laundry room and grabbed the clothes I folded earlier, bringing them back to our room.
We may not have talked much over the last two weeks, but this place was really fucking quiet with her gone.
I hated it.
I put her clothes away, nearly grabbing her latest sleep shirt—hell, it was mine anyway—just to fucking sleep with it.
Before leaving Asher’s closet, I went back in to grab it.
No one was here to judge me.
I tossed it on the bed and took my pile of clothes into my closet. I opened the door and turned on the light, stopping at the sight in front of me.
There, in the middle of the floor, was Bri’s bear.
The bear I put in her casket with her.
Propped between the bear’s arms, was a note.
Mindlessly, I put my stack of clothes on the chest-high shelving and moved to kneel in front of the bear, reaching for the note. My fingers brushed over the multicolored thread at the bear’s arm. I couldn’t look at my own bracelet, but it hadn’t come off.
