Family Drama

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MITCHELL

The news had broken that I was back in town, but so far the media had stayed away. People waved and cheered for us as me, Nash and Bryce went for a morning run. I took them through my old routine, the one I did every day before I left for college. We ran past open fields, through town and over to the high school where we stopped and did some pushups and some light stretching, and then ran back to the hotel.

"Damn," Nash sighed when we reached the parking lot. "That felt good."

"Yeah." I took a deep breath and inhaled the fresh air. I loved New York City, but there was something about the fresh, clean air in Michigan.

"What's the plan for today?" Bryce asked as he stretched one of his long legs out in front of him.

And just like that, the relaxed, happy feeling was gone, and I was once again filled with dread. It was time to deal with the family.

"I need to go by the house."

Nash nodded and Bryce switched legs. I tilted my head back and sighed. I wasn't looking forward to another confrontation, but they were my siblings, and I hadn't even seen Maria yet. If there was a chance that we could work everything out, I needed to try. Then we could all go back home.

Nash sat down on a bench next to the front door of the hotel and looked up at me. "When do you want to go?"

"Um..."

"Yeah, I'm going with you," Nash said before I could even ask him to. He had that serious look in his eyes too, so I knew it was nonnegotiable.

"An hour or so."

"Yeah, that's good. I'm think we should just go, me and you. Your brother already met Sammy, and he might be intimidated if all of us go."

I looked over at Bryce. "You don't have any complaints about that, right?"

"No," Bryce snorted with a grin. "That's fine by me. I was actually thinking of trying to find a sports store."

"There is a little on in town, but if there is something you need that's not basic, you may need to go to the next town over. There is a bigger one there."

"Skates," he responded.

"Skates?"

"Yeah, shit. I had to roll my toes last night in the borrowed ones."

Nash chuckled, and I scratched my head in confusion. "Okay, but why do you need skates? You have several pairs at home."

"Yeah, but we're going back, aren't we? If we're gonna stay here another couple of days, don't you want to go back and help those kids?"

Shit. This is why I loved these people. Bryce came off as a hardass, but he really was a softy on the inside.

"Dude," Nash said with a grin. "I like that. Pick up some stuff for me and Mitch, too."

"Done. Can I take your car?"

"Why don't you take mine?" I suggested. "That way, Kennedy and Sammy have the car that already has the car seat."

"Damn, Mitch, you're good at this thing," Nash chuckled. "Ready to try out this dad thing soon?"

"Maybe."

He laughed and rose to his feet. "Alright, brother," he said and slapped a big hand on my shoulder. "I'm gonna shower. I'll meet you down here in an hour."

"Alright."

"I'll come with you and get the keys," Bryce said as we got up and headed for the elevator. "Text me what you want from the store. Oh, and the sizes you need."

"If I give your my credit card, will you pick up some extra stuff, like pucks and shit, that we can leave for them?"

"That's an awesome idea," Nash agreed, and Bryce nodded.

"I'll pay for it now and then we'll just split it three ways, cool?"

"Yeah," Nash and I responded at the same time.

"I'll call coach and ask when we can come to practice."

***

I had expected the house where I grew up to be in bad shape, and just like I'd expected, it was. The ranch was small and in need of a new roof. The landscaping was about the only thing that looked neat and I suspected that was thanks to Maria. She'd always been a caretaker.

"Ready?" Nash asked, and I nodded.

"No time like the present."

"Let's get the show on the road, then."

I noticed they had repainted the door a light blue. It didn't match the dark green shutters, but maybe they were next.

"Maria?" I said in surprise when she opened the door. I hadn't seen her since she was a young teenager, and she had changed. She wore jeans and a plain pink t-shirt and her blonde hair, similar in color to my own, was twisted up in some kind of clip. Instead of the tall, lanky girl she'd been, she had filled out and looked like a grown woman. Although she looked a bit more tired than I would have liked.

"Mitchell!" she gasped and threw her arms around me. I hugged her back in stunned silence, but the hug only lasted a couple of seconds before she took a step away from and glared, like she just remembered that she was supposed to be mad at me or something. Like I was the national enemy number one. I wondered, yet again, what our father had actually told her and Marshall?

Maria glanced over at Nash. I had no doubt she knew who he was even if she no longer followed hockey - and she'd been the only one in the family, other than me, that ever did. Every female knew who Nash was, at least the ones under eighty with a pulse.

"Nash, this is my sister, Maria."

"Hi, nice to meet you," Nash said with one of his killer smiles. I wanted to roll my eyes the way Sammy did, but reminded myself that he was here to support me.

"Hello," Maria answered, and while she tried to remain calm, her cheeks colored a light pink. I gave Nash a glare, but he just smirked back.

I stepped into the house that had once been my home. We hadn't really been invited in, but that didn't stop me.

It was a sentimental feeling mixed with some kind of sadness to see the house where I'd grown up. Not that I missed living there with our father. He'd never been a particularly good one. Especially not after he'd been drinking, and he preferred to spend time with a vodka bottle over having a relationship with us. But there had also been some good times, especially before mom left.

I looked around the kitchen, noting the same cabinets and laminate countertop. The fridge was new and so was the furniture, but the wallpaper was peeling and the floor had seen better days.

"What did he spend all the money on?" I asked out loud.

"Who?" Maria asked.

"Who?" I felt my eyebrows furrow. "Dad, of course."

"What money? In case you don't remember, he lost the business."

Oh, I remembered that, but that was while I still was in high school. "You mean to tell me he never got a job after that?" I asked her.

She looked away from me, appearing to be slightly embarrassed that Nash heard us talk. "He tried, but it wasn't easy for him, you know. He worked some at the garage, and that was enough to pay for groceries and utilities."

"Groceries and utilities," I repeated, dumbfounded.

"Where the hell did the money go that I had sent to his bank account?"

"What money is that?" Maria asked.

"The money that was automatically sent to his bank account every month."

She was quiet for a while.

"I never heard of that, Mitch. He never said anything about you ever sending him money."

"Figures."

Nash gave me a warning glare and turned to Maria. "Where is your brother, Marshall?" He asked her.

"Um, he's working."

"At the garage?" I asked.

"No." She shook her head. "He is at the food store today."

"He has two jobs?" Nash asked before I got a chance to.

Maria nodded.

I had no idea that Marshall worked two jobs. But then again, I really didn't know anything about my family.

"Do you think he'll know where the money went?" Nash asked.

Maria cocked her head and studied Nash or a second and then shifted her gaze over to me. "Just how much money are we talking about?"

"A thousand dollars a month."

"A THOUSAND DOLLARS A MONTH?"

Her eyes looked like saucers and her mouth stayed open as she just stared at me.

"Yes, every month for the last seven years."

"WHAT?" she shouted. I watched as she gripped onto the back of the kitchen chair, and as her knuckles turned white.

"Why don't you sit?" Nash suggested and pulled out the chair next to the one she was gripping and waited for her to sit. Then he took the chair next to her, while I paced the small kitchen.

"I've never heard of any money," Maria whispered.

"That was supposed to help pay for the mortgage. I told him I'd help pay for your college too if you wanted to go, but he never responded. Which really isn't a surprise. He never responded to anything."

"You did?" She asked in surprise.

"Yes."

"How much money is that?" Maria asked, her eyes still large.

"Around eighty thousand dollars."

"Eighty thousand." She laughed sarcastically and rubbed her hand over her mouth. "Holy shit."

I stopped pacing and leaned up against the counter so I could look her in the eyes.

"Where did it go, Maria?"

"I didn't know." She shook her head. "And I really don't know where it went, either."

"Maria," Nash said and got her attention. "Do you know if your father had a will?"

"No, I don't know. Marshall might."

"Okay."

"When is he coming home?" I asked.

"He should be here soon. Half hour maybe."

I nodded.

"Maria," Nash said again. "Do your mind if I make some coffee while we wait for him?"

"Oh, I'll get it."

I didn't like to see my once very vibrant sister act this way. She was twenty-three years old. What was she even doing at home? Why wasn't she at work, and why was she still living with Marshall?

"What have your been doing?" I asked as I watched her scoop coffee into the coffee filter. The coffee maker looked old and worn, like everything else in the house, but at least it turned on when she pressed the button.

"I babysit a lot. I work at the daycare down the street. You know the building with the red dormers?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, there. And then I watch Susan Linda's daughter sometimes, when I don't have Neil."

"Neil," I repeated. "Who is Neil?"

"Ugh, Marshall's son."

Now it was my turn to shout. "Marshall has a son? I have a fucking nephew and nobody ever bothered to fucking tell me about it."

"Calm down, Mitch," Nash said sternly from where he was sitting at the table no more than five feet away from me.

"I... I... I just can't believe it. Nobody bothers to tell me anything. Not that dad is sick, or that he fucking dies for that matter, or that I have a nephew. Fuck," I yelled.

"You could have asked, you know," Maria responded. "It's not like it's our job to keep you updated. You're the one that left."

"Ohhh," I couldn't help the sarcastic laugh that left my mouth. "Is that what he told you? That I didn't try to reach out? Or that I was the one that left? Let me guess, he said I thought I was too good for all of you, right?"

I could tell by the look in her eyes that I was right on. That was just what had happened.

"I bet he never told you about the ultimatum he gave me. That if I accepted the scholarship the University of Michigan gave me, instead of staying here and helping out by working at the garage, or becoming a plumber like he was, that was it. I shouldn't bother coming back home."

"I never heard that. Dad always said you thought you were too good for us and that you weren't willing to help us out."

I tilted my head back and groaned. What a fucking joke.

"I tried to come home once, Maria. That first year, for Thanksgiving. But guess what? Nobody was here, and the locks on the door had been changed."

"You did?" She sounded surprised, which told me our dad had told no one about that either. I had tried to call and texted and left numerous messages.

I nodded. Nash got up and walked over to the coffeepot, which seemed to have finished. After looking into two cabinets, he found the coffee cups. He selected three and poured us all a cup.

Maria got up and took the mild jug out of the refrigerator and it in on the table.

"You think I would have sent him over eighty thousand if I thought that, Maria?"

"No, but if you did, where is it?" She asked and poured milk into her own cup and, after holding it up to Nash's, added some into his as well.

"Where is what?" Marshall asked as he stepped into the room and glared at each of us. I hadn't even heard the front door opening. Nash was immediately on alert. I knew him better than I knew my own brother, and I could tell that his bullshit radar was on.

"And what the fuck are you doing here?" Marshall asked and glared at me. "I thought I told you to go back to wherever the fuck you live."

"New York," I responded, more out of habit that anything else.

"Maria," Marshall hissed. "Why the fuck did you invite them in and make them coffee? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Maria visually shrunk back, and I became furious.

"There is nothing wrong with her," I snapped.

"It's my fault about the coffee," Nash responded from where he sat lazily on the chair like he owned the goddamned place. He paused and took a slow sip out of the coffee, and I knew he did it just to piss off my brother, which worked just like he intended. "I asked her to make it," he went on. "Actually," he corrected himself, and put the cup down on the table. "I asked if I could make it."

Marshall just glared at Nash, but turned his attention back to me. "Why are you here?"

"I just came to visit. I wanted to make sure everything was okay before I left."

"As you can see, everything is fine, so you can leave."

I took a slow breath. Marshall really was an asshole. Very much like my dad had been. Had Marshall always been this way, or did that change after I left?

"I wanted to discuss the money issue with you too before..."

"What money?" He snapped.

"Mitch said he had money sent to dad's bank every month. Did you know that?" Maria asked.

Marshall snorted. "Yeah, seriously Maria. Would we live like this if that what was the case?" He gestured with his hand to the small dingy kitchen we all barely fit in.

"But he said it was a lot," she tried again, her voice shrinking. "Over eighty thousand."

"Eighty thousand. Yeah, good one," Marshall laughed, but not humorous.

"A thousand dollars a month for seven years," I repeated to Marshall. "Dad never told you?"

"That's a lot of money, Marsh," Maria said. "Like a real lot. Why would he have kept that from us?"

"Because it never fucking happened," Marshall bellowed. "Are you fucking stupid?"

"Hey, what the fuck," I said. "Don't talk to her like that."

"Fuck you," Marshall sneered. "You haven't been here for ten years, so you have no say to anything that goes on around here."

"That doesn't mean you can talk to Maria like that."

"She is about as stupid as you are so, yeah, the fuck I can."

My blood was beyond boiling at that point and I clenched my hands hard against my thighs before I did something really stupid, like laying him out.

"Easy," Nash mumbled under his breath - because he knew me just as well as I knew him - but loud enough for all of us to hear it.

"And who the fuck are you?" Marshall snapped and glared at Nash. "Get out of my house."

Nash nodded slowly and tilted his head in that sarcastic, wise ass way only Nash can do. "You sure about that?" He asked.

"Am I sure about what?" Marshall demanded. "That you aren't invited, yeah, I'm fucking sure about that."

Nash looked him straight in the eyes and asked, "that the house is yours? Are you sure about that?"

That caught Marshall off guard for a second, and if I'm honest, me too.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, there's three of you, right?" Nash asked, and looked over at the three of us. "Wouldn't you own equal shares?"

"No, he fucking left," Marshall barked. "Dad would've never left him a penny. He didn't consider him a part of this family after he abandoned us."

I rolled my eyes. Going to college on a scholarship was abandoning one's family?

"Unless there is a will, that's usually the way it goes," Nash responded. "Everything gets split equally. Do you know if he had a will?"

Marshall didn't seem to know how to respond.

"Maybe uncle Benny knows?" Maria suggested.

"I'll check the records tonight," Marshall answered curtly.

"You might want to add checking the bank accounts to that list," Nash suggested.

"What about the deed?" I asked. "Is the house still in dad's name?"

That question seemed to make Marshall a bit happier. "In his and mine," he responded, like it was something to be proud of. The house was a shit hole.

"Okay, that's fine. I'll sign my share of the house over to Maria then. That way, you'll both own the house."

That comment, however, pissed him off again. "You don't fucking own anything around here. You are not a part of this family anymore."

"Okay. Check the bank accounts and see if there is a will. I'm leaving in a couple of days and I want to get things settled before I do."

Marshall slammed his hand down on the counter, which made the coffee pot shake. "There is nothing for you to sign," he shouted. "YOU ARE NOT PART OF THIS FAMILY!"

"For fuck's sake, Marshall," I snapped back. "Use your head. There's three of us whether you want there to be or not."

"GET OUT," Marshall screamed.

"Marsh," Maria tried again, her voice timid. "Maybe he's right."

"I already told you to shut the fuck up, you stupid cunt."

My fist smacked into Marshall's face before I even registered what I was doing. Maria gasped, Nash groaned out a "fuck Mitch" and Marshall howled and reached for a cutting board on the counter, which he used to hit me on the shoulder.

Nash was on his feet and pulled me away.

"Come on, Mitch," Nash said and took a firm grip around my arm. "You don't need this blowing up. Calm the fuck down."

"You're gonna fucking pay for this," Marshall shouted behind Nash. "I'm gonna sue you. I'm gonna take all your money, you fucking piece of shit."

As soon as Nash knew I was in control, he turned back to Marshall, and this was the ice cold and focused Nash. The one he was under stress. There was a reason he was such an excellent hockey player, he enjoyed the pressure and thrived under it.

"You will do no such thing," Nash said, his voice chillingly cold. "Because if you do, I'll testify as a witness to how you went after your sister when Mitch stepped into defend her. Get what I'm saying?" He cocked his head and stared Marshall straight in the eyes. "What you will do," he continued, "is find the will if your father even bothered to make one. Then you will check the bank accounts and see where all the money went and who actually owns this house. I'm willing to bet there's a mortgage on it."

"You got no fucking right to tell me what to do?" Marshall yelled back, although he was a little less hostile. Maybe that was because of the bruise that was blossoming on his cheek.

"If you want to clear up any business when Mitch is still in town, you'll do it."

"Get the fuck OUT! Or I'm gonna sue you too. Maria," he shouted, "call the cops and tell them we have trespassers that refuse to leave and they assaulted me."

"Marshall," Maria started, "I really think..."

"Don't think," he bellowed, "just fucking call the cops."

"Marshall," I tried. "Be reasonable. Let's try to clear this up."

"Fine," he snapped, and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. "I'll call the cops myself."

"Come on..."

"You have one minute," Marshall wiggled the phone in his

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