Chapter 3
Liam followed his mom into the kitchen.
She was watching the kettle on the stove top, mouth set in a thin line.
She hadn't noticed him enter nor did she notice Misha impatiently pawing at her leg.
She just continued to stare at the kettle.
"Misha, here," Liam ordered, causing Mira to jump.
She whirled around and Liam could see her dark eyes swimming with tears.
"I need to feed her," he explained.
"She doesn't like it when we don't stick to the schedule."
Mira smiled through watery eyes, "You were the same as a kid.
You'd tell us off for being 2 minutes late with breakfast."
Liam knew the stories, but it hurt to hear the comparison that Misha was their child.
Children were on a sunny horizon, after retirement.
The horizon was well out of Liam's reach now.
Liam busied himself with measuring out Misha's food and crushing in supplements.
The little chart they kept on the fridge was dutifully marked before Liam realised with a horrible clarity that it was unnecessary and Mikhail wasn't going to need confirmation that his beloved dog had been fed.
Tears threatened again.
Liam hurriedly began packing away the food, screwing the supplements lid on too tightly and tidying the already pristine kitchen in a desperate attempt to distract himself.
Mira was bustling around with the tea and arranging snacks Liam knew would go uneaten.
It felt ridiculous.
Reality seemed to be shifting again and his mind was ringing with a constant echo this is real, this is happening.
"What do we do?" Liam asked after the tea had steeped and they'd both run out of menial tasks to busy themselves with.
Mira took a deep breath.
"We wait for the police to come back and then," Mira took another shaky breath, holding back tears, "if you really want to, we'll go with you to see him."
"You don't think I should, though."
"I'm going to."
"I know."
Liam heard the sound of the TV from the living room.
Clearly his dad was also looking for something to do.
He nodded at his mom and they both headed to the living room, tea clasped in their hands.
Thomas was staring stock still at the news with tears pouring down his eyes.
The screen was alight with images of a flaming car, firefighters desperately tackling the blaze whilst a rolling ticker at the bottom stated Confirmed reports of body retrieved from vehicle.
Unconfirmed reports vehicle belonged to Ashford Knights player Mikhail Volkov.
"Volkov-Beckett," Liam muttered.
Thomas looked up, blinking, before hastily switching the TV off.
Liam took the remote and turned it back on.
"I want to see."
Most outlets had been hesitant to name Mikhail that morning, but it seemed they were gaining confidence.
Ready to announce his death as soon as the police did.
Liam knew there were various requests for comments in his inbox and the missed calls from reporters were piling up.
He knew he'd eventually have to release a statement, but what on earth would it be?
Mikhail is dead and my entire world has caved in. None of you knew him like I do.
None of you understand.
The footage shifted to a vigil outside the Knights Stadium.
Crying fans holding their jerseys high filled the screen.
Photos of Mikhail were tacked to the gates, surrounded by flowers.
Photos of him holding the Champion's Cup aloft, his PHL card, his players portrait.
A photo of the kiss he'd shared with Liam the first time they won the Champion's Cup together.
"Word is getting out," Liam said needlessly.
The corner of the screen said it was 08:32am, Nordland was waking up and seeing this footage, getting the same notification Liam had this morning.
The news was spiralling out into the world, no longer a horrible ache in Liam's chest but out there and painfully raw.
Liam needed to sit down.
They watched the news in pained silence.
The report was looped in between weather warnings, a parliamentary scandal, a story on two young schoolgirls who had written a storybook and a piece on declining tourism numbers.
They would cycle endlessly through the stories before schooling their face in a solemn grimace and announce, "now on to our top story.
Reports are coming in of a fatal collision on Ashford-Beaumont Expressway - "
Eventually, Liam couldn't listen any longer.
He did attempt to busy himself with his phone, but the messages were piling up.
Claire, Sam, Keller and some other people Liam hadn't spoken to in months.
Their messages were kind and sincere and not something he could stomach.
Outside, a car pulled onto the drive.
There was a clatter at the front door and a desperate tapping on the wood.
Liam allowed his heart to hope just the tiniest bit, could it ..
He bound hungrily for the door and swung it open.
Marcus Webb stood on his doorstep, pale and tight jawed.
Liam couldn't muster any words and could only stare at his friend before silently gesturing him into the house.
The door slammed shut harder than Liam had intended.
"Liam," Marcus began, following him to the living room.
Mira and Thomas both looked up, disappointed as Liam had been.
Marcus grimaced awkwardly at the people glaring at him and waved a hand in apology.
"I saw - I mean - Elena called me, she saw first but we couldn't - didn't want to," he inhaled, rubbing a sleeve across his sweaty, teary face.
"We didn't know if anyone was here for Liam, yet."
"That's kind of you, Marcus," Mira said gently, still grasping her undrunk tea.
"But I think this is a time for family."
"Marcus's family," Liam muttered, although he was still slightly bitter about the brief glimmer of hope that had been crushed.
Marcus smiled but it wavered at the sight of the TV screen, which had begun showing highlights of Mikhail's greatest goals.
He looked from Mira to Thomas to Liam, clearly unnerved by the tension in the room.
"So it's .. true?"
Liam paused and then nodded, unable to voice anything further.
Marcus exhaled a slew of curse words under his breath.
"Liam, I am so sorry," immediately Liam was bundled into an all-consuming hug.
It was painfully tight and Marcus was wearing too much cologne but it felt real.
"Jesus.
I am so fucking sorry.
I can't even imagine."
That was the problem, Liam couldn't imagine either.
Couldn't imagine what he was meant to do with the rest of his days or how he was meant to keep on going.
The idea of waking up every day knowing Mikhail was gone stretched out in front of him, every day looking emptier than the last.
They weren't going to raise kids, they'd never retire in triumph together, they'd never get to bicker and make up again.
It was all gone.
Liam clung tighter.
The wall he'd desperately being trying to build up all day broke and he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
Eventually, there was nothing to do but sit and wait.
Liam considered sending Marcus home but he was providing a decent distraction for his parents.
If they were talking to Marcus they weren't trying to talk to Liam, and Liam was in a constant flux of wanting to be left alone but not wanting to feel alone.
"How's Elena?" Mira asked to the silent room.
"The kids too, they must be getting old now."
"Uh, yeah, Elena's good, kids are all good.
Too smart for me and none of them are interested in hockey" Marcus fidgeted with the sleeves of his sweater.
"Probably a good thing, Sophie is a daredevil and she broke her arm the other month.
I was in pieces in the emergency room because she was so upset and I couldn't do anything to make her feel better, so God knows what I'd do if I saw any of them get taken out on the ice."