Chapter 24 What’s At Steak
What's At Steak
SYDNEY
The Velvet Steak is exactly as pretentious as its name suggests—dim lighting, leather booths, and servers who introduce themselves with their first names and life stories.
I spot Jonah already seated at a corner table, nursing what looks like straight whiskey and wearing the same expression he had when he found out Santa wasn’t real. Great.
I’m fifteen minutes early, which is on time by Sydney standards, but Jonah’s already halfway through his drink.
The newly acquired engagement ring feels like it weighs ten pounds on my finger.
I considered taking it off before meeting him because somehow it feels like admitting guilt to a crime I haven’t quite committed yet, but he knows I have it.
“Hey, stranger.” I slide into the booth across from him. “Sorry I’m early.”
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even attempt the fake one. “You’re always early,” he says flatly, taking another sip of his amber liquid courage.
“It’s part of my charm.” I flag down a passing server, desperate for alcohol to match my brother’s head start. “Vodka martini, extra dirty, please.”
The silence that settles between us is thick enough to cut with the obscenely large steak knives sitting at each place setting. Jonah stares at me, and I fidget under his gaze, smoothing my napkin.
“This must be serious for you to bring me here,” I finally say, gesturing at our surroundings. “To this expensive ass dinner, which it’s going to be because I’m getting the steak and lobster.”
It’s an attempt at another joke, a callback to childhood when The Velvet Steak was the pinnacle of fine dining in our small town, a place our parents brought us only for major celebrations or serious family talks.
The last time we were here together was when Jonah got drafted—champagne and congratulations and Dad crying into his medium-rare porterhouse.
Jonah doesn’t crack a smile. Again. Just continues to stare at me with that unnervingly serious expression that makes him look disturbingly like our father.
“Okay then. It’s that bad.”
My drink arrives, and I take a generous sip, grateful for the burn of alcohol. Liquid courage to face whatever lecture Jonah’s about to give.
“The proposal was an accident, Jonah.” I jump right in because dancing around the elephant in the room is exhausting.
“Brooks had Maisie’s ring in his pocket.
It fell out during the broadcast. The camera zoomed in.
He panicked.” I twist the antique band around my finger.
“But it’s going to make Maisie very happy. ”
Jonah’s jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. “So you’re just... taking the charade further?” He shakes his head. “A fake engagement now?”
I take another sip of my martini. “Look, Maisie’s health is improving. The doctors say her positive outlook is helping. If she thinks her grandson is happy and settled, maybe it’s worth—”
“This isn’t about Maisie anymore,” Jonah cuts me off, his voice sharp. “Is it?”
The question lands like a slap. I busy myself with the menu, though I already know exactly what I’m ordering.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, a lie so transparent I can practically see Jonah’s bullshit detector flashing red.
“Have you fallen for him?”
Five simple words that feel like a wrecking ball to my carefully constructed denial. I keep my eyes on the menu, reading the description of ribeye steak for the third time without absorbing a single word.
“It’s... complicated,” I say finally, setting the menu down. “We’ve been living together, pretending to be a couple. Lines get blurry.”
“Lines get blurry,” Jonah repeats, his expression darkening. “That’s what you’re going with?”
The server returns, saving me. We order—lobster and steak for me, just as promised, and the same for Jonah, though I doubt he’ll eat much of it given his current mood.
When we’re alone again, I try to organize my thoughts into something resembling coherence, but how do I explain what’s happened with Brooks when I barely understand it myself?
“Look, yes, we’ve gotten closer,” I admit. “We actually get along when we’re not trying to one-up each other. He’s different from what I thought—gentler, funnier. He makes amazing chicken parmesan, which I know you know.”
“Syd,” Jonah’s voice has an edge.
“And he’s good with Maisie—so patient with her, even on her bad days.
He helps me practice for broadcasts, gives me insider perspectives on plays.
” I’m rambling now, words tumbling out faster than I can control them.
“We talk, like really talk. About everything. Dreams, fears, childhood stuff. Did you know how intense his dad is about his hockey training? That’s why he’s always pushed so hard. It wasn’t just ego—”
“Oh my god,” Jonah interrupts, staring at me with something between horror and pity. “You’ve fallen for him.”
“No,” I protest, but the words ring hollow. My heart pounds traitorously in my chest.
Jonah studies me, seeing through my denial with the ease of someone who’s known me since before I had teeth. “Yes.”
I take another swig of my martini. “Fine. Maybe I have feelings for him. Is that so terrible? He’s your best friend. Shouldn’t you be thrilled?”
“No. I’m sorry, Syd, you can’t go there with him.” His voice is cold, definitive.
Then indignation floods in, hot and defensive.
“Are you serious?” I lean forward, lowering my voice to an intense whisper. “If this is about the San Francisco twins and the Vegas strippers, I don’t care.” A flush creeps up my neck as I add, “I’ve slept with men and your teammate—”
Jonah puts a hand up, his expression pained. “Stop, Jesus! The visuals.” He lowers his hand. “It’s not that, anyway.”
“Then what is it?” I press, genuinely baffled. “If it’s not the sleeping around, then what?”
He hesitates, his jaw clenching like he’s measuring his words, weighing what he wants to say. “You don’t know the half of it.”
The arrival of our appetizers—calamari—provides a momentary distraction, but I’m not letting this go. As soon as the server retreats, I’m back on the offensive.
Jonah doesn’t touch the food. “Brooks can never be that guy for you.”
“What does that even mean?” I push a piece of calamari around my plate, appetite evaporating. “He’s already that guy for me—”
“He’s not,” Jonah cuts in. “Trust me when I tell you that getting involved with him will only end in heartbreak. Your heartbreak.”
A cold dread settles in my stomach. “What the hell are you talking about, Jonah? What could possibly be so terrible that you’re acting like he’s radioactive?”
Jonah rubs a hand over his face, suddenly looking exhausted. “It’s complicated, Syd. There are things going on with him you don’t understand.”
“So explain them to me.” I can hear the desperation creeping into my voice. “I’m a big girl. I can handle the truth.”
The server returns with our main courses, the sizzling plates a stark contrast to the chill that’s settled over our conversation. We both ignore the food, locked in a silent standoff.
As the quiet lingers on, anger and fear form a toxic cocktail in my veins. “You drag me here, drop these ominous hints about Brooks, and then refuse to explain? That’s not fair, Jonah!” I’m no longer whispering, my frustration boiling over.
“Fair?” he yells back, his face turning the shade of his auburn hair, and several diners turn to look at us.
He leans forward, lowering his voice when he says, “You want to talk about fair? Is it fair that you started sleeping with my best friend when this was supposed to be a temporary arrangement to help his grandmother? Is it fair that you’re walking around with Maisie Kingston’s family ring on your finger, letting her believe in a future that isn’t real? ”
His words hit like body blows, each one finding its mark. “That’s not—we didn’t plan—”
“What happens when you figure out your entire relationship is built on lies?” He cuts me off.
“We’ve moved past the fake relationship,” I insist. “What’s happening now is real.”
Jonah’s expression is pitying. “Is it? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re playing house with a man who proposed to you by accident.”
The truth of his words stings, and I blink back unexpected tears. “It’s more than that,” I say, but doubt creeps in. “Whatever you think you know about Brooks—”
“I know everything about Brooks.” His voice drops low again. “Every triumph, every failure, every mistake. I was there for all of it. And I’m telling you, Syd, there are things you don’t know that would change everything.”
“Then tell me,” I plead, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “If you’re so worried about me getting hurt, then help me understand what I’m dealing with.”
For a moment, Jonah seems to waver, conflict playing across his features. Then he shakes his head. “I can’t. I promised him.”
“So your promise to him matters more than protecting me?” The hurt in my voice is real, raw.
“It’s not that simple.” Jonah pulls his hand away. “This isn’t my secret to tell.”
“If there’s something I need to know, Brooks will tell me himself,” I say, indignant.
“And has he? In all these heart-to-heart conversations, all these nights of dinners and sharing secrets, has he told you?”
The question lands like a stone in still water, ripples of doubt spreading outward. No, Brooks hasn’t told me anything that would change everything.
“I thought so.” Jonah reads my silence. “He hasn’t told you because he knows what it would mean. He knows you’d walk away.”
“You don’t know that,” I say, but it’s weaker now, more uncertainty creeping in. “Whatever it is—”
“It’s bad enough that I’m asking you—begging you—to end this now, before you get in any deeper.”
I touch the band unconsciously. It feels wrong now, tainted by Jonah’s warnings and my own growing doubts. “I need to hear whatever this is from him.”
Jonah sighs, defeated. “Right, exactly. Which means he has to man up and tell you.”
“He will, then I’ll deal with it,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “But I’m not walking away based on vague warnings and cryptic hints. I deserve more than that.”
“You deserve to be happy, and I don’t think you can get that with Brooks.” Jonah sighs. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
Our dinner sits cold and forgotten between us, the expensive meal a casualty.
“Look, I haven’t always looked after you like I should have. Jake was a mess. I don’t want that to happen again.”
What? “Jonah, you aren’t responsible for Jake.” I can’t believe he feels that way.
“I didn’t do enough. Now, I’m doing everything I can.” He places his napkin on the table. “Please promise me you’ll end it. Before it’s too late.”
I look at my brother, at the genuine concern etched into his features, and feel tears threatening again. “I can’t promise that. But I promise I’ll be careful.”
It’s not what he wants to hear, and he stands. “Look—I said what I came to say. I should go.”
Hurt flares in my chest. “Jonah, wait—”
“Let’s continue this after you talk to Brooks,” he says, then walks away, leaving me alone with a diamond ring that suddenly feels too heavy, a cold steak I’ve lost all appetite for, and a heart full of questions I’m not sure I want answered.
The server approaches cautiously. “Is everything all right with your meal?”
“Just fine.” I force a smile that feels like it might crack my face. “Can I get the check and a couple of to-go bags, please?”
As I wait, I study the ring on my finger, watching how it catches the light. Real or fake, accident or fate, this symbol of commitment has become the centerpiece of a puzzle I’m suddenly afraid to solve.
And what is it? What’s the big secret? Brooks is already married? He’s got a baby? He’s an alien from Mars? What?
And if I push for answers, am I prepared for what I might find?
The check arrives, and I sign it, adding a generous tip for the server who had to witness our family drama.
Whatever secret Brooks is keeping, whatever Jonah knows that I don’t, the Brooks Kingston who’s waiting up for me is still the man who held me through a panic attack, who taught me to ice skate, who kissed me like I was precious.
And maybe that’s enough. Maybe some secrets are better left buried.
As I get up to leave, I get a new email notification, and in the preview, I see it’s from the news station in LA.
I sit back down to read it, and it’s an invitation to interview with them with an all-expenses paid trip to LA next week. It says I’d be a fantastic fit for their network and their market, and how they need a talented, motivated female sportscaster.
Wow—it sounds like I could have the job in the bag if I want it.
And I’m not sure how I feel about this. Excited? Nervous? Torn?
I look up and realize I didn’t finish my drink, so I sip at it as I cycle through denial, anger, bargaining, and land somewhere between depression and acceptance—the five stages of grief for a relationship that might be doomed before it’s even truly begun.
I don’t need to get the secret from Brooks if I’m leaving for LA, right?
But as I sit, gathering courage to leave, I realize it with certainty: I’m in too deep now to walk away without answers, regardless of where our future’s headed. Tonight, tomorrow, whenever the moment is right, I need to know what Brooks is hiding.
Because Jonah’s right about one thing—I am falling for Brooks Kingston.