The kitchen smelled like childhood—scents that had soaked into these walls over decades of Sunday dinners, holiday gatherings and all the ordinary meals that stitched a family together.
I sat at the familiar table, watching framed photographs crowded every available surface. Nathan's hockey milestones dominated—peewee championships, high school trophies, the moment he got drafted, the day he signed his professional contract.
My achievements appeared too, smaller and fewer: graduation portraits, a photo from my white coat ceremony. A family that kept reshaping itself around absent men, documented in frozen smiles and careful arrangements.
My mother bustled between stove and table, radiating the quiet pride she always wore when both her children were under her roof. Nathan sprawled in his usual seat at the head of the table—a position he'd claimed sometime in middle school and never relinquished.
"—and then Torres pulls me aside after practice," he was saying, gesturing with his fork, "and tells me I need to work on my defensive positioning. Like I haven't been playing this game since I was six."
My mother made sympathetic noises, her attention fixed on Nathan like he was the sun and she was a flower turning toward the light. "He's just trying to help, sweetheart. Coaches push the hardest on their best players and their captains."
"I know, I know. It's just…" Nathan shook his head, reaching for more mashed potatoes. "Whatever. How's the hospital, Sum? Still saving lives and taking names?"
"It's fine. Busy. The usual intern chaos."
"She's being modest," my mother interjected, beaming. "My daughter, working at one of the best hospitals in the city. I still can't believe it sometimes… Both my children, doing such incredible things."
Her eyes drifted back to Nathan as she said it, and I recognized the familiar hierarchy. His accomplishments were tangible—stats people could recite, headlines they could clip, a career that filled stadiums with cheering fans.
Mine were softer, quieter—medical school, the internship, the slow, unglamorous climb toward something that might eventually matter.
"Speaking of incredible things," my mother said, setting down a basket of rolls with ceremonial gravity, "Nathan told me about the team offer. Summer, why didn't you mention it? A position on a professional hockey team's medical team—that's wonderful!"
My stomach tightened. Part of me wanted to accept—wanted the distance from Xavier, the clean break from a hospital that now felt contaminated by months of lies.
But another part recoiled from what accepting would mean: Nathan hovering over my shoulder every day, Jay's relentless pursuit with nowhere to hide, and the terrifying certainty that I'd be walking straight into something I wasn't ready to face.
"It's not definite yet," I managed. "It's just…"
"She's doing a trial day tomorrow," Nathan cut in, and I felt the familiar irritation of having my story told for me. "Gonna shadow the current staff, see if it's a good fit. I told Coach Torres she'd be perfect for it. Having my sister on the team—pretty cool, right?"
"Both my children, together…" My mother's eyes glistened with emotion. "Your father would be so proud."
The mention of our last father—my biological father, Nathan's stepfather, the man who'd walked out when I was twelve—landed like a stone in still water.
He'd left behind nothing but silence and two children with different last names: Nathan kept his biological father's last name Reid since he died, while I was stuck with Ellis. A constant reminder of the man who'd abandoned us.
It was why so few people knew we were siblings. Different last names, different looks—Nathan with his dark hair and imposing build, me with my blonde curls and petite frame.
At school, the confusion had actually been useful, letting me exist in his shadow without the added pressure of being "the hockey star's ugly little sister." Now it just felt like another wall between us.
Nathan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly and my mother's smile faltered for just a moment before she recovered.
"The guys are good, mostly, but locker room culture can be... intense." He said, steering past the awkwardness. "You're gonna have to earn their respect through your work, not through being my sister. In fact, it might be better if people don't know we're related right away. Let them see your talent first."
"I can handle a locker room, Nathan."
"I know you can, I'm just saying…" He leaned forward, earnest and suffocating in equal measure. "If anyone crosses a line, if anyone makes you uncomfortable, you come to me. Immediately. I don't care who it is—rookie, veteran, coaching staff. I will handle it."
The protectiveness was unchanged since high school.
The same fierce, well-meaning cage he'd been building around me since the night those boys from the swim team had cornered me drunk at that party. The night everything changed, even if I couldn't remember most of it.
"I'm twenty-four years old," I said quietly. "I don't need you to fight my battles."
"That's what big brothers do."
My mother nodded approvingly, and I felt the walls close in a little tighter.
"Also," Nathan continued, his tone shifting to something more pointed. "Why did Jay recommend you for this position? I mean, I'm glad he did, it's a great opportunity, but Jay doesn't usually go out of his way to help people's careers."
The question landed too close to the truth. I felt the blood drain from my face and forced myself to take a slow bite of chicken, buying time.
"He met me at the hospital when I treated him a few times. Maybe he was just impressed with my work."
"Maybe." Nathan didn't sound convinced. "Jay's my best friend, I love the guy like a brother, but I know how he operates. Especially with women."
He set down his fork, giving me his full attention.
"He's unreliable, Sum. Can't pick one girl and stick with her, always chasing something new, bouncing from relationship to relationship like he's trying to fill some hole that can't be filled."
"Nathan."
"I'm saying it because I know you had a thing for him back in high school."
His eyes softened, but the words still cut.
"You weren't exactly subtle about it, and I don't want you getting ideas now that he's suddenly paying attention to you. Jay's not your match. He's not capable of giving you what you deserve."
The old wound throbbed beneath my composure.
Nathan was right—I hadn't been subtle in high school. I'd been pathetically, transparently, heels over head in love with that boy. And now that boy was suddenly everywhere, suddenly interested, suddenly looking at me.
"I'm not getting any ideas," I lied. "He's just a patient."
"Good. Keep it that way." Nathan reached for his water, satisfied. "Look, I'm not saying this to be controlling. I've found something good with Madison, something stable, something real. She makes me want to be better, to build something that lasts."
He met my eyes, earnest and oblivious to the irony.
"I want it for Jay, but I just know he’s not that way. And I want that for you too, Sum. A reliable man, someone who shows up and doesn't play games."
I thought of Xavier in his locked office, his careful promises, his hidden wife.
"I want that too…" I said quietly. And for once, I meant it.
"Speaking of Madison," my mother interjected, brightening at the opportunity to redirect, "when are you bringing her around again? It's been weeks since I've seen that girl. You can't keep hiding her away—I need to feed her, make sure you're treating her right."
Nathan laughed, and the conversation shifted mercifully away from me. I pushed food around my plate and tried to feel grateful for Nathan's concern instead of suffocated by it. Dinner wound down slowly. Dishes were cleared, leftovers packaged, the familiar rhythms of ending a family meal.
Nathan lingered by the door, jacket half-on, keys in hand.
"Oh, one more thing," he said, almost casual. "Have you noticed anything weird about Jay lately? He's been showing up to practice with these random injuries—cuts, bruises, tweaked muscles... Coach Torres is getting concerned. Thinks maybe he's fighting outside the rink or something."
My stomach plummeted through the floor. The gash above his eyebrow, the suspicious injuries, the repeated trips to the emergency room, always requesting me specifically.
I kept my face neutral through sheer force of will, every muscle in my body screaming with the effort of appearing normal. "That's strange…" I managed. "Maybe it's stress? The pressure of the season can make people reckless."
Nathan considered this, then shrugged. "Yeah, probably hit his head one too many times—scrambled something important." He grinned, shaking his head and pulled me into a quick hug. "See you tomorrow, Sum. Don't be nervous, you're going to be great."
He left, and I stood in the doorway watching his taillights disappear, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Jay had been hurting himself to see me and Nathan was starting to notice.
And I know with certainty that whatever is happening between me and Jay, Nathan would never approve it.
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