I could hear the muffled sounds of my mom talking on the phone as the strong aroma of maple bacon woke me up. Within seconds, I was down in the kitchen, listening to grease pop in the pan as she scrambled eggs, the black house phone pinned between her cheek and right shoulder. She smiled sweetly at me, mouthing, “Good morning, honey.”

“I will see you on Monday with those damn papers finally signed and in hand. Talk to you then.” My mom put the cordless back onto the charging cradle on the counter next to her, her dirty blonde hair swept up into its usual low ponytail. I took a seat at the breakfast table and watched her cook as she hummed to herself.

“What has you in such a good mood this morning?” I asked.

With her singsong voice, my mother beamed at me. “I am going to get those divorce papers signed today if it is the last thing I do.”

Her red and green flannel pajamas were starting to fade a little, but they were her favorites. With my dad gone, I realized so many more things about my mom—the little things, the things that really mattered. The way she practically danced around the kitchen while she was cooking, the way she was always awake before us, the fact that even though she had every reason to be depressed and sulk her life away, my mother took life by storm.

“What are you going to do? We’ve sent them to the jerk at least a dozen times. He keeps refusing.”

“Your sister and I are going up there later today. He won’t be able to say no to our faces. I mean, your sister’s puppy eyes and my cold, heartless glare are the perfect recipe to get him to finally divorce me.” She laughed a little, a silent chuckle that lit up her makeup-less face.

“Do you really think that is a good idea?” Right then, my stomached started to growl; one thing mom was definitely good at was making me hungry as all hell.

She stared blankly at me while portioning out scrambled eggs and bacon onto plates for us. “Honestly, Brayden, I have run out of options.” The defeat that washed over her small frame broke my heart. I knew that all she wanted was to be done with my father, once and for all, but he was putting up too much of a fight and it was starting to wear on all of us. I hated how it had started a rift in the family, but I also owed it to my mom and sister to be honest about my feelings. It was my responsibility to protect them from him.

I sighed. “I just feel like there are other ways to handle this. It is just going to upset you and Myla while giving him something he wants—to see you.”

My mom and I sat eating in silence for a couple of minutes. I hated disagreeing with her, but I had strong feelings when it came to anything to do with my father and she had raised me to speak my mind.

“I have to get ready for practice.” I shoved away from the table. If I couldn’t talk mom out of going to see the jerk of the century, maybe there was hope with Myla.

I trudged up the stairs, lightly tapping on her half-open door. “Hey sis, have a sec?” The squeaky old wood flooring made my presence known before the words escaped my throat. My sister Myla was sitting on the edge of her bed reading as I made my way into her pink and gold covered bedroom. I could tell she wanted to be left alone, but we needed to talk. Ever since our father had been sent to prison, the entire family was barely keeping it together, but Myla was taking it the worst.

She glanced up at me over a worn-out hardcover copy of one of her cherished Harry Potter books. “What’s up, Brayden?”

I took a seat next to her, taking a deep breath as the bed springs whined under my weight. “Maybe it’s time to get you a new mattress.” Small talk was never my specialty, but ya can’t blame me for trying.

“What do you want, Brayden? I am just about to my favorite part where Dobby gets a sock and is freed from the Malfoys,” Myla hissed. The frustration on her face made me want to laugh so hard; my sister was the biggest nerd in the world and I loved her so freaking much for it. She was also incredibly adorable when she scowled; it was always hard for my parents to reprimand her or take her seriously when she was mad because all they ever wanted to do was smile and laugh.

After a deep breath, I finally dove right into the real reason I was bothering her. “You know you don’t have to go today. Mom will understand.” I grabbed my sister’s petite hand, trying to offer as much support as possible.

“I am already on the guest list. I don’t want to hurt Dad like that.” Her eyes snapped away from mine. “Can you image how much that would suck for him if he was expecting me to be there and then I chickened out? That’s not fair.”

My blood started to boil. “Not fair? Hurt him? You’re fucking worried about hurting that jerk’s feelings? You have got to be freaking kidding me. Myla, when are you going to grow up and realize that the only good thing that ever came from that man was the fact that we were born?”

She shot up to her feet, face redder than a ripened tomato. “How dare you say that! He was a great father until he got injured! You of all people should know how fucking hard it is for a player to be taken off the ice. If you couldn’t play anymore, how do you think you would react? Bitter? Drunk? Asshole? All of it would be warranted. He does not need us turning our backs on him now.”

I started to walk toward her bedroom door, knowing there wasn’t any reasoning with her about this and that upsetting her was the last thing I wanted to do. “He murdered an entire family because he was drunk and barred out of his skull. One day that will sink in.”

As I shut her door, I knew I had hurt her, but facts were facts. Our father was not a good person, and he sure as hell hadn’t been a good father in years.

Sitting in a patient’s room while they slept probably was not the best way for me to spend the middle of my night shift, but there was something about this young girl that really got to me. Her brother had seemed so shaken when he left, and I knew he wouldn’t want his sister to be alone. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. I hated having to send him home, but the visitor rules for the critical care unit were strictly enforced and I was not looking to get in trouble.

I pulled out my cellphone and saved his name in my phone. I typed Brayden Cox into the field slowly, trying to put a finger on where I had heard that name before. I felt like I should know who these two were, but I just couldn’t place it.

After doing one last check of Myla’s monitors and printing out her vitals, I made my way to the break room for some much-needed coffee.

“Hey, Karla.” Rich looked up over the New York Times that was grasped firmly in his hands.

I waved sweetly. “Long night so far, huh?”

Rich’s graying beard was perfectly trimmed around his pursed smile. “Definitely a light night. How’s the Cox girl doing?”

“Fine,” I muttered, filling up my thermos with steaming black goodness. “I feel like I’ve seen their name before.”

Rich nodded. “I’m sure you have. That family was all over the news for a long time. The dad, Reggie Cox, was a big-time Otters player, and his son just got on the team. That girl in there, Myla, she is a big deal in her own right—scouted for the Olympic skating team and everything. Reggie hit the bottle real hard when he couldn’t be on the ice anymore and not too long ago killed a whole family in a drunk-driving accident. Real sad, if you ask me. One minute you have everything and then the next, your life is a one-way ticket to hell.”

I stood in shock, trying to process the horror Rich had described. How could one family go through all that crap? And now the mom was dead on top of all of it. When is enough, enough?

“That’s just so heartbreaking. How does a family survive something like that?”

Rich shrugged. “They really got the shit end of the stick, for damn sure.” Checking his watch, Rich shoved away from the table.

“Gonna check on her?” I asked.

He nodded. “Take a load off. Lord knows you work hard enough for all of us. You deserve a quick break.”

Taking a seat in a cold, plastic chair, I watch as Rich leaves the room. You’d think the hospital would want the break room to be comfortable for their staff, but it was the complete opposite. The stark white walls were bare, and dull gray and blue covered the rest of the small space. There was a microwave and a large white refrigerator that were both practically dinosaurs and made crazy noises from time to time for no reason at all. Even though it wasn’t the most inviting of spaces, it suited its purpose.

My hands shook as I thought about the Cox family. One minute they were on the top of the world, and the next their lives had crumbled into the rubble of broken dreams. After slurping down the last drops of coffee, I tried to put my emotions to the side. That was the hardest part of my job for me—separating my emotions and not bringing the sadness home with me. I said a silent prayer for Myla and her brother and rinsed out my cup.

I did my rounds, doing coffee-fueled passes through each of the ICU patients’ rooms to make sure everything was going well for them. The rest of my shift was smooth for the most part, other than an older lady screaming to high heaven about needing more pain pills after a spine surgery from three in the morning until the end of my shift. My heart went out to her, but there was nothing I could do other than call her pain management doctor and let him take it from there. Nothing really to write home about when it was all said and done. Myla was doing well, and that was all I really cared about.