A Better Man(20)

Tonight he sat on a worn leather sofa all the way across the country from where his teammates were gearing up in the locker room. While the announcers gave a rundown on what they believed would happen in tonight's game, Jordan thought about his conversation with his sister, and once more he felt the guilt twist around his windpipe. He tried to loosen its grip with another slug of brew, then he dug into the brisket and let the sweet, hot flavor roll over his taste buds. 

The TV showed his boys skating onto the ice to the roar of the home crowd. The announcers wondered how the game strategy would fare without him-­their hard-­hitting power forward. He wondered too as he shoved a forkful of coleslaw into his mouth while the camera zoomed in for a close-­up of goalie Jack Riley stretching out in front of the net. Then the shot widened to show the Penguins skating onto the ice.

Jordan's last forkful of the brisket disappeared as the teams lined up for the National Anthem. Tonight a class of third-­graders were doing the honors. Jordan couldn't help smiling at their serious faces and squeaky voices as their teacher led them into the song. Closing the lid on the Styrofoam container, he grabbed the Naked Blonde and leaned back to watch the game.

A knock on the door interrupted him before the bottle reached his mouth. When he got up to answer he found his twin on the porch, dressed more casual than Jordan had seen him in years. Not that he saw him that often. But for Dec, it was Hugo Boss suits all day, every day. Jeans and a blue Henley went much better with his Southern California tan.

"Hey, dirtbag." Declan grinned. "What's up?"

Jordan laughed. "Good to know it only took you a couple of days before you started calling me names again." When he stepped back to let his brother in, he noticed the paper bag in Declan's hand. "What have you got in there?"

Dec opened the bag and pulled out a six-­pack of Hair of the Dog microbrew.

"So I guess you're planning on staying more than five minutes?" Jordan asked.

"Brilliant guesswork."

No sooner had Dec put his brews in the refrigerator and sat down before another knock came on the door. Jordan opened it to find Parker standing on the porch holding a paper bag.

"Let me guess . . ." Jordan eyed his younger brother. "You've got microbrews in that bag."

"And they say hockey players are stupid."

Jordan stepped back and waved him in. Dec lifted his bottle in a hello salute. Parker put his beer in the fridge, then came out of the kitchen holding a bottle of Rock Bottom Red Ale. No sooner had Jordan closed the door than another knock came. This time it was Ethan holding up a pack of Foggy Noggin' Scotch Ale. Behind him, Ryan trailed in with a pack of HeadKnocker Amber Ale.

While his brothers drifted around the small room, talking, joking, and shoving each other over on the sofa to make room, Jordan's chest tightened. "Not that I don't appreciate the company, but what are you guys doing here?"

Declan gave him a duh look. "Came to watch the game."

"You didn't think we'd let you watch your team play all alone, did you?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah." Parker grinned. "Just in case you need a shoulder to cry on."

Jordan knew his brother was joking, but he wasn't so sure he wouldn't have done exactly that had he been alone.

"We've got your back, brother." Ethan held up his brew and they all clinked bottles.

Jordan looked at the four men cramped together in the small living room and was overwhelmed by their love and support.

They knew he'd have a hard time watching his team play without him. They knew he'd made a promise he planned to work like hell to keep. They were being good brothers even when he hadn't bothered to be the same.




       
         
       
        
Things were different now.

They might be willing to freely give him their trust, but Jordan knew it had to be earned.

And he intended to do just that.

"Hey guys," he said over the thundering volume of the game. All his brothers looked up. He raised his bottle and choked back the emotion jammed in his throat. "Thanks."





Chapter 6


His team hadn't just lost; they'd had their asses handed to them in a 4 – 1 battle on the ice caused by too many reckless Viper penalties and too many opportunities for the Penguins. Guilt tightened another notch around his neck as Jordan walked into The Muddy Cup Café the following afternoon. He couldn't imagine how he'd ever get a cup of coffee past the regret tangled up in his chest.

As soon as he opened the door of the brightly lit café, he zeroed in on Lucy sitting with her back to him in a booth at the rear of the room. Head down, she studied the headline of the newest edition of Talk of the Town.