O Goalie Night (The Ottawa Otters #1)

Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

FOSTER

I t’s minus twenty-five outside and I’m still managing to sweat as I walk up the freshly shovelled cobblestone path. The bungalow is decorated with colourful lights and a partially deflated Rudolph leans against the white porch. It looks like a family lives here.

When Beth called me last night to tell me about her talk with Ben, I realised right then and there that I was ready to talk to my own brother. I texted Cody and he wrote back immediately inviting me over for coffee this morning.

He appears in the doorway as I’m wiping my snow-covered boots on the outdoor mat. His face lights up with a smile I haven’t seen in so many years, I’d almost forgotten it. The same smile he’d give me when we were kids and had just gotten away with one scheme or another.

“You’re here,” he says, extending his hand to me.

I take it in mine, almost certain that this is the first time I’ve shaken my brother's hand. If we embraced as kids, it was either a hug or a headlock .

I clear my throat. “Thanks for having me.”

He welcomes me into the house, a wreath jingling on the door as it closes. Removing my boots, I line them up neatly with the other footwear. I smile at the smallest pair.

He takes my coat and hangs it from a hook by the door. “Would you like a coffee?”

“I’d love one.”

Cody leads me through a hallway with framed pictures on the wall. I slow as I pass them, desperate for a glimpse into the last ten years of his life. He notices me lingering and backtracks to me.

“This was taken on Amelia’s first day of Kindergarten,” he says, pointing to the family portrait. Amelia sits between Cody and a blonde woman with glasses, her hopeful smile almost identical to the little girl.

“You all look really happy.”

“We were,” he chuckles. “Although, Amelia threw up about fifteen minutes after it was taken and all three of us were sick for a solid week with a stomach bug.”

I follow him into the kitchen and he pours me a cup of coffee. “Still take it black?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles. “Black coffee gives me heartburn now. Jenna got me on to oat milk and it’s not half bad.”

“Is Jenna your wife?” I’m almost embarrassed that I have to ask.

“Yeah. We got married when Amelia was four. She’d really like to meet you, sometime. She’s been after this reunion for years.”

I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what to say. I look around the kitchen. “This is a nice place.” A lot nicer than the house we grew up in.

“Thanks. We’ve been here for almost two years. We were in Markham, but moved here when the bank Jenna works for opened a new branch. We really like the area. It’s a young neighbourhood and there are a lot of kids around Amelia’s age.”

“And what do you do for work?”

He hesitates for the briefest moment. “I’m an accountant.”

I laugh without thinking and once I start, I can’t stop.

“I know, I know,” Cody smirks. “Get it out of your system.”

“I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth, trying to contain myself. “The guy who said math was for nerds became an accountant.”

“Numbers are my first language. I stopped fighting it years ago.”

“Do you like it?”

“I really do. It’s less stressful than hockey and a lot easier on the body. I mostly work from home, which is great for me. I get to be here when Amelia gets off the bus.” That’s something we definitely didn’t have when we were kids.

He motions to a small, oval dining room table. I take a seat across from him and we continue to drink our coffees. Even though it’s nice just sitting here, being with my brother in his peaceful home, it’s not why I came.

“You said you had some things to say?” I hope it doesn’t come out blunt, but I need Cody to start talking. We spent years avoiding it and look how that ended for us .

He clears his throat and rests his forearms on the table between us. “I take full responsibility for what happened between us, Foster. God, there’s so much to say I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start from the beginning. When I came home that first summer after being away all year.”

He nods and I sense he’s preparing himself to be vulnerable.

“I was so proud of you when you went to the junior league. We all were. But I missed you. I had just stopped playing hockey and your career was just beginning. I didn’t want to be jealous of you, but I was a little. I lost touch with my old hockey friends and the new ones I made weren’t the best guys.”

Douchebags, if I remember correctly. I say nothing.

“By the time you came home, I’d kind of gotten used to you not being there.”

His words stings, but I understand where he’s coming from.

“And then Gramps was gone so fast. You came home for the funeral and went back right away.”

“I had to.” I was under contract and only had so many days off.

“I know that, I do. But I was seventeen and I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. I felt really alone. And because I’d always had the two of you, I didn’t know how to handle it. I started getting high every day. It helped keep me numb.”

Memories of how he’d acted back then resurface. How he seemed not to care about anyone or anything. And I’d been too focused on hockey to notice what was really happening .

“Mom getting sick was the final straw. I was so angry. From the time I woke up until I went to sleep at night, this anger just ate away at me. I was angry at everyone, including Mom because she insisted on not telling you. And that just made me resent you even more. You were off playing hockey and being a sixteen-year-old and I was at home in our shitty bungalow, watching her waste away.”

I stare at the table and blink my cloudy eyes. Mom waited until she could no longer work to tell me about her pancreatic cancer. I came home right away and only had a few days left with her before she was moved to Hospice. And then she was gone.

“She told me she’d wanted me to focus on hockey.” My voice is thick with emotion. I try, not for the first time, to understand where my mom was coming from. She must have been so scared and just wanted to protect us. She was always trying to do her best by us, right up to the end.

“She said the same thing to me. It just made me more angry with you. I understand now that it wasn’t your fault, but at the time, I couldn’t see beyond my own pain. I needed an outlet for that anger and you were the only one left. I’m sorry.”

I nod, swallowing hard. I remember that loneliness well, but I had hockey to keep me going. Cody had nothing.

“I’d thought that last time I came to visit you was rock bottom, but things only got worse. I went on week-long binges where I didn’t leave the house, just drank myself into oblivion. I’d manage to sober myself up long enough to find a job, just to wind up losing it a month later and start the entire process over again. I met Jenna around that time and actually managed to stay on the wagon for half a year. Things were good and I wanted to reach out to you, but I couldn’t work up the nerve. And then she got pregnant with Amelia.”

I’m leaning forward now, hanging on my brother’s every word.

“I wish I could say that becoming a parent made sobriety easier, but I struggled. Suddenly, I was terrified of everything. What if something happened to Jenna and I became the world’s most useless single father? What if something happened to Amelia? Or what if I fucked everything up and I lost them both? When I went back to school, it got worse. I started drinking again, occasionally. At first it was just to take the edge off before bed, but pretty soon I was sneaking whiskey into my morning coffee and staying buzzed all day. It got noticeable and Jenna begged me to get help. And for once, I listened. Started therapy just before Amelia’s third birthday and joined AA at the same time. I haven’t had a drink in more than six years.”

“I’m really happy to hear it, Cody. I just wish you’d have reached out. I would have helped you any way I could have.”

“I know you would have, little brother. But this was something I had to work through on my own. I already felt awful about how I shut you out.”

I nod because his reasoning makes sense.

“Why didn’t you get in touch after you got sober?”

He breathes a heavy sigh. “I wanted to. You’d just signed with the Otters and I didn’t want you to think I had some kind of agenda. The more time that passed, the harder it got, and the less I knew what to say. But I gotta tell you; seeing you on the ice that day, I thought my heart was going to give out. I’ve been watching you on tv and seen pictures online, but it was different. You looked so grown up. And happy.”

I think about how Beth looked as we were skating off the ice that day. Hair mussed, lips swollen from my kisses, and smiling. It’s only been a day since I’ve seen her and I’m already aching to hold her.

Looking up, I catch my brother smirking at me and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

“So…you and Amelia’s teacher, eh?”

“Shut up, Cody.”

He laughs loudly. I attempt to glare at him, but I can’t commit.

“My kid loves her. She’s talked about nothing else since she started at the school.”

“Yeah.” I smile, because I can’t think of Beth without becoming a sap. “She’s pretty amazing. I was teaching her to skate for the school field trip.”

“Aww. I can’t believe they had to cancel it. Amelia’s crushed. All the kids are.”

“Yeah, Beth said the same thing.” Even though it was completely out of her control, she said she felt like she was letting the kids down when I talked to her last night. I know there will be other skate days, but I also know that she was really looking forward to this one.

The alarm that I set on my phone starts to chime and I look at it to confirm the time. I feel like I just got here and wish I could stay longer.

“I’ve got to get going. We fly to Tampa in a few hours. ”

“Of course.” He stands and starts to walk me back to the front door. “Thanks for coming over, Foster.”

“Thanks for having me. I’m really glad you reached out.”

“Maybe we could do this again sometime?” He looks at me hopefully.

“I’d really like that. I want to meet my niece properly. And Jenna.”

“Do you–” He clears his throat looking suddenly nervous again. “I don’t know if you have plans, but if not, we’d love to have you over for Christmas dinner. But I understand if it's too much, too soon.”

I place my hand on his shoulder and say, “I’ll be here.”

My brother pats me on the back before stepping forward and throwing his arms around me. After nearly a decade, I’m hugging my brother. It’s not the stiff, awkward kind you’d expect after so many years—this is the kind of hug that says everything words can’t.

“I’m sorry I fucked up,” he says, his voice breaking.

“Everyone fucks up,” I answer, feeling him chuckle at our grandfather’s words.

When the hug ends, we’re both sniffing.

“Let me know what time to be here on Christmas,” I say as I’m leaving. “And what I can bring.”

“Just bring yourself.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “I’m definitely bringing Amelia something. I’ve got nine years of presents to make up for and I want it to annoy you as much as possible. I’m thinking a drum set.”