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It takes a moment for my brain to function and realize that if it’s ringing out loud, it can only be one of two people.

When my eyes focus, I find Huxley’s smiling face staring back at me, and I quickly accept the video call.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” I ask, taking in his wet hair and rosy cheeks.

I glance at the time and do the math. They’ve just finished a game.

“Amazing. We just won six to nothing. It was incredible.”

“Oh wow, that’s awesome. Well done.”

“You should have seen Ryker. You’d be so proud of him. He had two of those goals and two assists. He was on fire.”

“Damn,” I hiss as pride for my youngest brother surges through me. “And what about you? Are you happy with your performance today?”

“Yeah. I got a goal and an assist too. It was good.”

Sadness drips through my veins. “I wish I could have been there to see it.”

“You will be in a few weeks, right? You’ve got the Detroit game, and then we play the next day. You said you’d speak to Coach Watson and⁠—”

“I’ll be there,” I promise, determined to do whatever is necessary to ensure that happens.

Huxley beams at me before embarking on a detailed breakdown of their entire game, telling me every single thing Ryker did that made him proud.

Fuck. I love this kid.

I’m so glad he still feels this excitement for the game. Hell knows it’s been a while since I felt it.

I fear that will also happen to him, in time. Dad is just as hard on them as he was on me. He’s going to steal the joy, I just know it. I wish there was a way to stop it.

“Is Ryker there? Can I talk to him?”

Huxley swallows and hesitates.

“He’s…uh…downstairs with Dad.”

My stomach sinks.

“But he had a good game.”

“He had a great game. But you know what Dad’s like. There will be plenty of things we both could have done better.”

I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from saying exactly what I think about that bullshit.

“So, how’s school?” I ask, hoping to distract both of us.

We both know that as much as we might want to stop what’s happening downstairs, Huxley walking in would only make things worse. And I don’t have any kind of power to protect Ryker from the other side of the country.

Huxley knows what I’m doing. He’s too smart for his own good, but he indulges me in tales from fourth grade.

“And what about that girl you were telling me about?”

Huxley groans, his cheeks getting even pinker.

“We’re just friends.”

“That’s cool. It’s good to take it slow.”