I know selling drugs to pay for hockey equipment seems extreme, but it’s the only shot he’s got to get out of Michigan and away from our mother, who is spiraling faster with each lost job.

When our dad died, I was just finishing high school and heading to Valley. I got out, excited to leave behind memories of the happy family that didn’t exist anymore. I was selfish, only thinking about myself. I left Heath to fend for himself and it kills me to think of the things he’s had to deal with while I was out partying and acting like life was grand. Especially since it’s my fault Dad’s gone.

Mom was okay at first. She was sad, as we all were, but she was functioning. Then… I don’t know. One lost job turned to two, bills started to go unpaid. I didn’t even know about it for a while. Heath and I barely spoke my first year at Valley so it’s no shock that he didn’t reach out until it was already pretty bad.

It was the beginning of sophomore year the first time he called and asked for money. I hadn’t gone home that summer so I didn’t see how bad it was. We’ve never been rich, but there’d always been money for what we needed. It must have taken some guts to call and ask me to help. Guts or desperation.

“How’s everything else? Is Uncle Doug still stopping by on the weekends to check in?”

“Yes.” He sounds glum. “I don’t need a babysitter. He just makes things worse. He rags on Mom and makes her feel worse than she already does. Then he leaves, and I’m left to deal with her crying all night.”

“Is it that bad?”

“It’s fine. I know how to handle her. I’m eighteen. I’m not a kid anymore, bro.”

My chest breaks with a chuckle that I keep silent. He reminds me so much of myself at that age. Headstrong and independent, ready to take on the world like I knew it all. The difference is I had two parents keeping an eye on me and knocking me down a peg or two when I needed it.

“Yeah, alright. Listen, I’m at a team event, so I gotta go, but text or call me if you need anything. And if it’s an emergency, call Uncle Doug.”

“I know, I know.”

“Stay out of trouble.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Love you, bro.”

“Love you, too.”

The conversation sobered me up something awful. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight as I pocket my phone and head toward the party. Coach Daniels still has people all around him, so I walk in front of him slowly until he spots me. He tips his head in acknowledgment and I do the same.