Chapter Seven: The Girl By The Lake

Marcus's POV

The sound of Jon Bon Jovi blasts away through the headset as I casually flip through the sports magazine in my lap. The TV is playing an old hockey match from last season's championship and the soft hum of the fan at the foot of my bed gives my bedroom a serene feel to it.

A tap on my shoulder has me jumping off my bed and tugging the headset off my ears as Peter grins at me wickedly.

"What's up bro? You're never so skittish. Someone on your mind?" Peter throws himself onto my mattress and tucks his arms behind his head, his bulging biceps causing his t-shirt to ride up his sculpted torso.

"Get off my bed. Didn't you just come from your drills at the park?" I give him a half-hearted shove and then sit beside him with my back to the headboard.

Peter gave a nonchalant sigh before reaching to the bedside table and opening the bottle of water sitting there. Chugging back the entire contents, he crumpled up the plastic bottle and then proceeded to dunk it into the waste-basket in the corner of the room.

"Score!" he playfully screamed before shifting off the bed and opening the mini-fridge on the left of the TV.

"Um, excuse me. You got one of those in your own room. Why are you in mine?" I ask as I place the sports magazine on the side table and flop back down on the bed, closing my eyes.

Turning back to me with a beer can in his hand, Peter watched me while taking a slow, long mouthful. He continued to watch me silently for a few seconds before the sound of his tongue clucking had me peering at him through semi-closed eyes.

"Something on your mind, Pete?" I use his childhood name purposely because he hated it.

"Don't call me that. And I was just wondering if you're coming to the bonfire party," he took another long gulp of beer, belching like a drunk pirate before moving to reclaim his spot beside me on the bed.

I let out a dull groan as I turn my back to him. "You know I only go to those things for you and Damian. But I'm not really in the mood. So maybe not."

"We're having it by the lake this time," Peter went silent as I slowly turned to watch him.

"The lake? Why?" I ask cautiously.

He shrugged his shoulders as he finished the can of beer and crumpled it in his fist, taking aim for the waste-basket once more. As he chucked the can, I reached out and caught it midair.

"Hey!" Peter reached over to take the can from me, but I held it out of his line of reach.

"Why the lake, Peter?" I asked again, my tone more serious this time.

Peter stopped reaching for the can and sat back against the headboard. "It was Damian's idea. He said it'd be cool to have it there instead of on the trails. Something about it being reminiscent of the old days."

I sighed before chucking the beer can into the waste-basket myself. "We haven't been to the lake since..."

"Since mom died. I know." Peter finished my sentence in a soft voice and then suddenly swung his feet off the bed and pushed to his feet. "I'm cool with it. So, you're going?"

I watched as my youngest brother held his breath, waiting for me to respond. Nodding my head silently, he let out a relieved breath and then quickly left the room. As the sounds of his footsteps faded, I turned and reached into the top drawer of the bedside table. Pulling out a small framed photo, I ran my fingers of the faded glass and smiled. The image of the aforementioned lake was a clear as the day the picture was taken. I traced my index finger over the image of the young, dark hailed woman with piercing blue eyes as she wrapped her arms around a pair of toddlers. The boy smiled broadly with his messy dark hair falling onto his eyes in waves and the girl was laughing brightly. A small dimple peeping at the corner of her right cheek as dark waves of waist length hair cascaded down her back.

This picture spoke volumes. It was the last time spent with our mother before she passed away, and it was the last time either of us, including our father, visited the lake. The fact that Damian decided to choose it for the party location made me wonder what exactly he was thinking and only justified my decision to attend the party.

Damian was being more and more secluded. He came to games because he loved hockey with a passion like the rest of them, but he hardly ever played anymore. Peter and I knew something was up with him but neither of us knew how to bring it up with their recluse of a brother. Maybe the party would be the perfect time to try and figure out what was bothering Damian.

As my gaze drifted over the picture once more, my eyes stayed on the little girl a tad bit longer. Summer camp that year was the first and last time I saw little Anna Donovan, and I thought our paths would never really cross other than when the hockey teams clashed. But for some reason, the past few days gave me the opportunity to not just see her more, but to also talk to her, get to know her better. My stomach did a little flop that had my heart racing in a way it did when I was on the ice for a hockey match. Hockey was the only thing that ever gave me such a thrill. And now, just thinking about Anna Donovan made me anticipate something other than hockey. Now she was becoming a lot more than just the girl I met by the lake.