The other men cheer and agree with him, as if this is some twisted sort of group therapy. Like they have all been where he is."All the bitches I get t... bed are such fucking prudes," he tells them to more grunts of agreement. Now I'm but feet away from him, still being dragged. I'm still stunned by all that's happening that I don't even move. I mean, my feet are barely even touching the floor.Then I see him grab the box he purchased and damn near rip it apart to get it open. It's now I see what. The only son of a Haitian single father. A lad whose mother, Beatrice Saint-Pierre, died giving birth to him. My father’s older sister, a hard-working attorney and single mother named Annabelle Saint-Pierre had a big hand in raising me. I love my aunt. I am extremely close to her brats, my cousins Madeline, William and Armand. We attended Boston-area colleges together. Madeline went to Wellesley College, William went to Northeastern University and Armand went to Boston University. These days we. “Nice stick, Brad. It would take a little getting use to. I’d need one with slightly less flex otherwise, I’ll break yours too often,” he said, handing it back to him.Brad did the same as his dad, skating into a powerful slap shot, “100!” Carl announced. Dan fed him a perfect pass, and he fired off a one-timer off the post and in the net. “Again 100!”They carried on enjoying their time together, unaware they were being watched by Frank and Carl. Dan and Brad skated end to end, passing the puck. We walked east towards the old marina. I slowed.Callie hooked her arm through mine, leaning against me. She inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of the sea,” she enthused. “It’s so pretty here. So peaceful. As if all our problems are a world away.”We walked in companionable silence. Then Callie stopped walking and broke the silence. “Are you sure we can’t just run away and hide? It’s not like I have a family left.”“If it could work, I wouldn’t hesitate for a minute. But it won’t work.” Looking.