In My Rearview Mirror, JACK.HUGHES

SIX

Cedric's words hit me like an unexpected slap "What the fuck is wrong with you?" his voice pierced through the air, demanding an explanation that seemed to elude even my foggy thoughts. 

He's still in his airport clothes since he just arrived. 

My eyes rolled almost involuntarily, a feeble defense mechanism against the growing tension. How did a night of innocent fun spiral into this?

9 am was never meant to be this unforgiving. I slept literally 3 hours yesterday, because after my little play in the snow with Nico and Olivia, we went to Mcdonald's and we talked for hours.  

Each step towards the cabinet felt like an obstacle course under Cedric's scrutinizing gaze. The familiar coolness of the cabinet's surface greeted my fingertips. Ibuprofen - a feeble attempt to numb not just the physical ache but also the weight of the choices that lingered in the air. The pills rattled in their container, a stark contrast to the silence that hung heavily in the kitchen. 

"You don't get to tell me what to do and what not to," I snap back, the exhaustion fueling the sharpness in my voice.

Cedric's expression tightened, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "You were at Jack's place yesterday with a couple of Devils and Habs," he retorts, agitating his hands in the air as if trying to emphasize the gravity of the situation.

The mention of Jack's place, devils, and Habs felt like a sudden spotlight on the night's escapade. The playful memories of snow and laughter now seemed to have transformed into something darker in Cedric's eyes. 

I nod my head in a half-hearted acknowledgment as I swallowed the pills, the bitterness lingering on my tongue. 

"Braden tried to call you all night, and you never answered," He adds, the concern evident in his voice.

"Argh, I'm too hangover to talk about Braden right now. I saw all of his texts and calls," I dismiss, my words slurring as I drop my tired body onto the couch.

Cedric follows me like a concerned puppy, handing me a water bottle. I muster a weak "thanks" as I took it, the cool liquid providing a momentary relief from the dryness in my throat. He then draps a blanket over me, a gesture that felt oddly comforting in the midst of the brewing storm. 

"I just want you to be okay. You know what I think about Jack," Cedric says, his eyes carrying a hint of sadness. Not many people know this, but my brother is a big emotional boy.

"Ced, I'm 24. I think I can figure things out on my own," I respond, reaching out to pick up his hand. Despite the lingering tension, there's a comfort in the familiar touch.

"We won yesterday, and I score," he adds with a hint of pride.

"I know, Ced. I saw your goal on Instagram. I'm really proud of you," I say, offering a genuine smile. The dynamics shift momentarily from confrontation to shared accomplishments.

He gets up, breaking the connection, and announces his intention to take a shower.

"Also, have I told you that the fam is coming over this weekend?" he mentions before heading towards the bathroom.

I respond with a thumbs up, unable to muster the energy to speak further. Nausea settles in, and I rest my head on the side of the couch, succumbing to the fatigue that grips me. As Cedric disappears into the bathroom, the room falls into a hushed calm, the weight of family gatherings and personal struggles lingering in the air as I drift into a restless slumber on the couch.

... 

I wake up to the intrusive smell of beef assaulting my nose, a confusing and somewhat off-putting scent that clashes with the remnants of the night before. I rub my eyes and groggily reach for my phone.