8. Berkley
My Lips Are Sealed
“So, how was playing WAG at that fancy party last night?” Kimber asked from where she was sprawled out on my bed.
As usual, my former roommates had come over and made themselves at home while I packed to head back to Traverse City for three weeks.
Now would have been the time to have that conversation I’d promised Lexie I’d have with them, but…god, it was so hard. They were my friends, and though they irritated me, I still loved them and didn’t want to cause any drama.
“I’m not a WAG,” I said.
“I don’t know,” Amelia said from the floor. “You definitely look like one in these pics. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d be disgusted how beautiful you are, and how good you two look together.”
I dropped the sweater I’d been in the middle of folding and hurried over. “There are pics?”
“Yes,” Amelia said with a smirk, holding her phone close to her chest. “The Warriors just posted them on socials.”
“Let me see!” I yelled, reaching for the phone.
“I thought you weren’t a WAG,” Kimber said with an eye roll. “So why do you care?”
“There are pictures of me on the Detroit Warriors’ social media accounts,” I ground out. “That’s why I care.”
And…okay. I didn’t love having photos of me displayed so publicly, but some small part of me was thrilled by the knowledge that thousands of people would be seeing me on Brent’s arm. They’d have no idea who I was, or how serious it was between us, which I preferred. But still…the photos spoke volumes, and every single one that featured us screamed that Brent Jean was off the market.
The idea made me giddy. If my family wasn’t waiting on the other end, I’d be more depressed about leaving the city for three weeks. However, as much as I wanted to spend more time with Brent, I desperately needed this break to relax and refocus before my final semester of law school.
“Enjoy the spotlight while it lasts,” Kimber said.
I whirled on her, my joyous bubble from a moment ago popped. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Kimber sat up. “It means you expect too much from people, and Brent will end up being just another man you push away…or run off.”
“You mean like I expect my friends to give me my privacy and respect my boundaries, and instead they keep barging their way into my home uninvited?”
Amelia, for her part, looked chastened, but Kimber’s jaw clenched, spine going ramrod straight as she rose from the bed.
“You gave us the key, Berk.”
“For emergencies,” I reminded her. “Not so you could show up here whenever you please. You have your own place. This”—I spread my arms wide and spun in a circle—“is mine.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…” I took a deep breath. There would be no coming back from my next words, at least not easily. “Give me back my key and get out.”
“Berk!” Amelia protested, surprise and hurt warring for purchase on her face.
“I’m sorry, Ames, but you’re just as guilty as she is.”
“What about Lexie?”
“Lexie doesn’t show up whenever she wants. She doesn’t let herself in in the middle of the day while I’m in class. She definitely doesn’t barge in and embarrass me when I let a new guy in for a first date!”
“I thought you wanted us here.”
“No, I don’t,” I said. “What I want, the whole reason I got my own place, is to be alone when I come home after a long day.”
Kimber let out a derisive laugh. “You’re fucking insane.”
“I’m not insane. I just want some peace and quiet. And I don’t appreciate the way you’ve been talking to me lately. If I want to be a control freak, I’ll be a control freak. That’s not going to push Brent away. If he’s the one, he’ll love me for me. End of story.”
Kimber gaped, finally at a loss for words.
“Give me my key, and get out,” I repeated.
With angry, jerky movements, Amelia removed the key from her keyring and threw on the floor at my feet. Then, she and Kimber stomped out.
I didn’t give myself time to consider what I’d just done as I finished packing and began my journey to Traverse City. I was certain there’d be hell to pay later, but I couldn’t find it within myself to care. I’d spent too long catering to Kimber and Amelia’s whims, to Kimber’s backhanded and rude comments. I was done.
Before I could call Lexie to clue her in on what had happened, she called me. I’d just loaded my bags into my car when my phone rang.
“What did you do?”
“Stood up for myself.”
Lexie chuckled. “They called me from the car, absolutely raging about how you’d gone off the rails and I needed to talk some sense into you.”
“And?”
“And I’m calling to tell you…it’s about fucking time, sis.”
The tension in my shoulders eased, and I barked out a laugh. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Whatever happens, don’t you dare experience one second of guilt. If they can’t understand what they’ve done wrong, fuck ‘em.”
“Am I just supposed to…completely cut them out of my life?” I asked as I slid behind the wheel of my Jeep and started the engine, letting the call connect to the car via Bluetooth.
“If they don’t apologize, yes.” I sighed, and Lexie continued. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the way it has to be.”
Our conversation ended shortly after that, and as much as I tried to come up with a solution to what Lexie guessed would happen, I couldn’t see a way out. This was one of those instances where, though it pained me, I had to stand my ground.
Traverse City was a coastal city, situated on the shores of Lake Michigan in the northwestern part of Michigan’s lower peninsula. It was a classic tourist town and also served as the gateway to Michigan’s version of wine country. The Leelanau and Old Mission Peninsulas played host to the best wineries in the state.
I’d loved growing up here. It had a big-city feel while still being full of small-town charm. During high school and my undergrad summers, I’d worked at a local winery on Old Mission, and I’d always loved interacting with people who came from far and wide to enjoy my little slice of paradise.
When I pulled into our driveway, my mom and younger sister were waiting for me.
“You’re looking way too thin,” Mom said, holding me at arm’s length after giving me a hug. “Are you eating enough, or do you spend all of your time studying?”
“Why is it that when Logan was in law school, he literally survived on Red Bull and donuts, and no one gave him shit for it. But I lose a couple pounds and suddenly I study too much? Damn double standards.”
My mom stepped away and planted her hands on her hips. “Do not cop an attitude with me, Berkley.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled my little sister—who was actually six inches taller than me—into a hug.
“Jessica looks skinny, too, Mom!” I whined when we broke apart.
Jessica pinched her stomach. “Logan’s been sharing fitness tips, so I’ve been using the campus gyms when I can.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I looked back and forth between my mother and sister. “Are we talking about the same Logan Daniels here?”
Jessica laughed and opened the hatch of my Jeep, reaching in to grab one of my bags. “It is weird, right? Ever since he started at the firm, he’s been taking better care of himself. Still works stupid long hours, but somehow manages to exercise daily.”
I frowned. I loved my life in Detroit, but this was one of the few reasons I hated being so far from my family—I missed out on all the small things.
“Speaking of, where is our dear brother?”
“He should be here any minute,” Mom said, checking her watch.
Jessica and I ran a load of stuff inside, my sister chattering about her first semester at Michigan State. Jessica was six years younger than me, and the third and final Daniels kid to attend college in East Lansing, where she was studying to be a teacher. She’d gotten some of Dad’s height, but was blonde like me, Mom, and Logan. All of us possessed crystal blue eyes.
When we came back out for another load, Logan’s black Silverado pulled into the driveway.
He’d barely climbed out when I launched myself at him. Logan stood over six feet tall like our father and caught me easily, scooping me up and spinning me around. Next to my dad’s, his hugs were my favorite, and he crushed me to him, even as I jokingly gasped for air.
“Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?” Logan asked when he’d set me back on my feet, studying me at arm’s length. “Did you lose weight?”
“What is it with you people?” I asked, jokingly pinching his stomach, which was—admittedly—flat, his biceps obviously toned and straining against the sleeves of his Henley. Not that I’d ever give him the satisfaction of telling him his hard work was paying off. That went against everything in the brother-sister best friend handbook. “Did you gain weight? Too many steak and lobster dinners on the company card?”
With a laugh, Logan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in, dropping a kiss to the top of my head.
“I missed you, you dork,” he said when he let me go.
“I missed you, too, you goon.”
When we eventually walked inside, I was greeted at last by the family’s two Golden Retrievers, which meant my dad wasn’t far behind.
“Hi, Bristol! Hi, Rambo!” I cooed as I knelt to pet the dogs, who fought valiantly for all of my attention. “How are my babies? Oh, I know, I missed you, too.”
“Of course the dogs get attention before your old man.”
My dad grinned as I ran into his arms. Like Logan, he lifted me into a hug, crushing me to his chest. When I was back on my feet, he ruffled my hair before gathering half of my belongings and bringing them up to my old room.
Ahh, it was good to be home.
The next week and a half came and went in a flash. Despite the fact that he sometimes worked six or seven days a week, I still saw a lot of my brother. When he wasn’t around, I listened to Jess talk about this boy she’d met and started dating, or offering advice about friends or classes. Sometimes, I’d go to construction sites with my dad—who was a contractor—to see how various projects were coming along.
I’d also met a few of my high school friends for dinner one night, and my friend Amara, whose family owned the winery I used to work at, and I agreed to get together and go out for New Year’s Eve. I had to admit, I was excited about the prospect of a night out to simply let loose before returning to Detroit a few days later.
Mostly, though, I sat around the house, read some new books on Kindle Unlimited, and thought about Brent. We’d managed to talk on the phone and over FaceTime a bit, but it wasn’t enough. Despite my initial reluctance to let him in, he’d become a part of my life quite seamlessly.
Basically, I missed him.
Before I knew it, Christmas Eve arrived, and my entire extended family was packed in our basement. Kids played foosball or Mario Kart. Teenagers sprawled across the massive sectional, studiously ignoring everyone in favor of their phones. The adults sat around the poker table, playing endless games of rummy.
When my phone vibrated in my pocket, I didn’t even look to see who was calling before getting up and leaving. I was just glad for the excuse to be free of my uncle’s sexist and racist comments for a while.
Though, when I saw it was Brent, my lips spread into a grin.
“Hey, you,” I said, dropping myself onto a couch in the sunroom.
“Hey, yourself,” he said. “What’re you doing?”
“I was playing cards with my family, but my uncle is kind of an asshole,” I said with a groan. “I’m glad you called and rescued me.”
“Happy to be of service,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“What’re you doing?”
“I just got to my parents’!” he said as a car door slammed in the background. “It’s snowing like crazy here, so my trip from the airport was brutal. I’m about to walk inside, but I wanted to give you a call while I could. The next few days are going to be pretty busy.”
“Aww, well I appreciate the thought. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yours, too,” he said, tone growing softer.
Desperately, I wished he was here, curled up on this couch with me. Hands on my body, mouth on mine, chasing away the winter chill.
“I can’t wait to see you when I get back.”
“God, you have no idea.”
“Soon,” I promised.
Before either of us could say anything else, my dad hollered my name from downstairs.
“My dad is yelling at me to get my ass in the house,” Brent said at the same time. “So I’ll let you go.”
“Okay, babe. Thanks for calling.”
“Babe, huh?”
My cheeks heated. “Sorry. It just felt right.”
Brent chuckled. “I loved it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, good. Merry Christmas, Beej.”
“Merry Christmas, Blondie.”
Smiling stupidly to myself, I rose and turned toward the kitchen for another drink, nearly jumping out of my skin when confronted with my brother. He stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed and jaw clenched, eyes narrowed on me.
“Logan! Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Who was that on the phone?”
“No one.”
“You called him ‘babe,’” Logan reminded me. “It’s obviously someone important.”
Knowing I wasn’t getting out of this without offering something to my brother, I mimicked his stance. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out.” Logan nodded. “And you can’t tell Mom or Dad or Jess. I’m not ready yet.”
“Fine,” he conceded.
“I was on the phone with Brent Jean.”
His face slackened in shock. “Please tell me there’s some normal guy wandering around Wayne State with the same name as the pro hockey player.”
“Wish I could.”
“You’re dating Brent Jean,” he said incredulously. “Like…the Brent Jean.”
I sighed. “If we’re going to have this conversation, can you at least let me get another beer first?”
Logan nodded, following me into the kitchen. Fortified with alcohol, we sat side by side at the counter, and I told him the entire story. When I finished, Logan regarded me for several long moments, squinting and pursing his lips.
When he finally spoke, it wasn’t at all what I expected.
“Are you happy?”
“Wait…what?”
“Are. You. Happy?” he asked again, emphasizing every word.
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “But it’s still pretty new.”
“As long as you’re happy, I don’t care.” He clapped his hands together as if that settled the matter. “But if he makes you shed even one tear, I will rip him to shreds.
“Good luck with that,” I laughed. “But I’m surprised by how well you’re taking this. Just do me a favor and don’t tell anyone else. It’s too early, and I’m not ready.”
Logan mimed locking his mouth shut with a key. “My lips are sealed.”
My lips are sealed was a crock of shit, and Logan cracked the next evening at Christmas dinner.
“I love having you all home like this,” Mom said when we’d settled at the table. Her gaze strayed to me. “Are you sure you’re happy in Detroit? You don’t want to come home?”
“I don’t know what I want yet,” I answered as honestly as I could. “I’ve still got a semester to figure it out.”
“Actually, you should start applying for jobs as soon as you get back to the city,” Logan said. “Make sure you send me your resume and stuff. I’ll put in a good word at the firm.”
Leave it to my brother to throw a wrench in all my plans to be vague about what came after I finished law school. “I…don’t think I’m going to move home after school.”
“I thought that was the plan,” Logan said, brows drawing together in confusion.
“It was at one point,” I said, shrugging. “Plans change.”
“This isn’t about Brent, is it?”
“Who’s Brent?” Jessica asked, Mom echoing the sentiment.
“I hate you,” I told my brother, pointing my fork menacingly at him. “But no, this isn’t about Brent.”
Not entirely anyway.
Logan sat forward, food forgotten as he opened his mouth to launch into what I was sure was a well-rehearsed speech he’d been preparing since the night before, but I held up my hand to stop him.
“Don’t even start with me,” I said. “It’s too soon to be making decisions about my future with him in mind. I know that. I’m looking at this logically. I’m about to graduate in the top five of my class. I’ll have my pick of firms across the country, not just in Michigan. I’m only trying to keep my options open for as long as possible.”
Logan sank back, placated for the moment. “You’ve always been smarter than me, kid. I just don’t want you to throw something you’ve been working so hard to achieve away for some guy.”
“Staying in Detroit and joining a firm there, or leaving for a job, would hardly be throwing anything away. In fact, Professor Lippett offered me a job, and he happens to represent a number of the city’s top athletes—including Brent.”
“Conflict of interest,” my brother warned.
“No shit, Sherlock. I’d just stay far away from anything involving him…if it came to that.”
The rest of our family, who had been watching our exchange with gaping mouths, remained silent for a beat before Mom said, “What the hell is going on?”
“Berkley has a boyfriend,” Logan said. “Who happens to be the Warriors’ star forward.”
“Absolutely not,” Dad said automatically. My gaze darted around the table, unsure who to level with a glare.
“Jay…” my mom warned.
“She’s not dating a professional athlete. I’m sorry. I let the women in this family run amuck about most things, but this is where I draw the line.”
“I’m afraid it’s not really up to you, Daddy.”
“Like hell it’s not.”
“Dad,” I whined. “Please. I’m twenty-five, and Brent is a good guy.”
“If you overlook the fact that he’s had enough tabloid coverage to wallpaper this entire house,” Logan said under his breath.
“No one asked you, you shithead.”
“I’m just saying. He’s kind of a player.”
“He is not!” I protested, not missing the fact that I sounded like a petulant child.
As the voices of my family members rose over the table, each of them telling me what I shouldn’t and shouldn’t do in regards to my life and my relationship, I simply breathed.
I wasn’t your typical middle child. I didn’t act out or get in trouble for attention. Logan and I were just over a year apart in age, and we were seven and six respectively when Jessica was born. I’ve always been a good girl: good grades, good manners, good everything. Dating a professional athlete didn’t negate that. It wasn’t the end of the world like my family was making it out to be.
“You guys!” I finally shouted over the din. “Here’s what you need to know right now: I’ve been seeing Brent since Halloween. We haven’t officially defined our relationship, but I’m not seeing anyone else—nor do I want to—and he’s assured me he’s in the same boat. I trust him. He’s been nothing but genuine, generous, and gentlemanly. I really like him, and I’m happy. That should be enough for all of you. I’m an adult, and I make my own decisions. Brent being in life is one you won’t change my mind on.”
Sufficiently chastened, regular conversation that didn’t revolve around my love life resumed at the table, and I heaved a sigh at a crisis averted.