Chapter 19
HANNAH
Istare down at my phone after sending Happy the details that he needs to get up to Brookes’s suite, nerves getting the better of me because this is so against the NDA I signed.
Brookes is weak, lying on the sofa in the sitting area of the suite, wearing sweats, his face sallow, lips pale, dark rings shadowing under his eyes.
He’s a far cry from the Brookes shown in the media, from the Brookes I’ve come to know the last few days.
Gone is the cocky, arrogant, self-important jerk; he’s a shell of that man.
I scan the plates on the coffee table, noticing how little he’s eaten. But I can’t blame him; if I’d had my stomach pumped, I can’t imagine I’d have much of an appetite either.
Patrick, Jared, and Cam, who flew straight up from Florida the second he got the call, are all in the dining room, seated around the table talking quietly about how to deal with the unexpected turn of events, and I glance at them as I pad past the doorway, taking a seat on the arm chair next to the sofa where Brookes lounges, staring through the television instead of at it, while some high action movie with The Rock plays.
“Do you want me to order you something different?” I ask.
He glances at me, and I indicate the plates of untouched food, but he shakes his head, turning back to the TV.
I rake my teeth over my bottom lip, tapping my hands against my knees. Glancing at him from the corner of my eye, I shift in my seat. “Do you wanna talk?”
Brookes shakes his head again, not looking away from the television this time, his jaw ticking as if he’s grinding his molars.
He hasn’t said more than a few words since waking up.
In fact, the only thing he’s said to me was that he didn’t want me to leave.
But I wasn’t going to anyway, even if it meant missing my date with Happy.
Brookes needed someone, and, for some reason, I was that someone, and I knew Happy would understand.
What I didn’t expect was Happy to want to come straight here. I glance at the time. He should be here soon. My stomach twists; God, I’m going to get into so much trouble.
“Um, Hannah?”
I turn, finding Patrick standing in the doorway of the sitting room, scratching the back of his neck. And I assume by the what-the-hell look on his face that Happy is here. Right on time.
Standing, I smile innocently, and Patrick deadpans. I glance sideways at Brookes, walking out and joining my boss in the hallway.
“What is Happy Slater doing here?” Patrick asks through gritted teeth, his voice barely a whisper.
I roll my eyes. “We had plans, and—”
“Really?” He rears back. “You and Happy Slater?”
I swear, this man is a bigger gossip than a sixty-year-old woman getting her roots done at a neighborhood salon.
“Besides the point, Patrick,” I chastise. “When I told him I was unable to make our… plans… he insisted he come here.” Shrugging a shoulder, I soften a little, unable to fight my smile. “I couldn’t say no. And, besides, Happy Slater can keep a secret like nobody’s business. Trust me.”
Patrick purses his lips. “Okay, but he’s going to have to sign an NDA.”
“He’s a professional athlete and the son of famous parents,” I remind him. “I’m sure he’s familiar with the process.”
“He’s in the foyer.” Patrick nods, turning back to the dining room.
I hurry down the hallway, stopping at the sight of Happy standing in the foyer of the fancy suite. He looks so handsome in his dark blue jeans and white button down, and the fact that he really took the time getting himself ready for our date seriously tugs at my heartstrings.
“Hey,” I say softly.
Turning, Happy’s dark eyes take me in, and he crosses the distance, coming right up to me. And, for a moment, I think he’s going to wrap his arms around me, maybe even kiss me. But he doesn’t. Instead, he seems to hesitate, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocking on his heels.
“Are… are you okay?” he asks, looking down at me.
I swallow back the disappointment that lingers on my tongue like a bad taste and nod, glancing down at the shiny marble floor. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Happy looks over my head, down the hall. “Is Brookes okay?”
“Um, I mean, I think so.” I shrug. “He’s not really saying too much. But he’s refused to continue filming the special, and… he wants to pull out of the Masters.”
Happy rubs his chin contemplatively. “You realize he’s an addict, right?”
My eyes widen. “I-I mean, I know he drinks a lot but… an addict?”
Happy nods. “I could tell the moment I met him at Ned’s. I’ve seen it before.”
His tone is sad, a little defeated. And I fold my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling really bad for not noticing.
“Jared and Patrick are in the middle of serious damage control with the SNN execs, and Brookes’s manager, Cam, flew in, and he’s trying to put out a thousand fires…
” I heave a sigh. “I’ve just been sitting with Brookes, making sure he’s okay.
But… he’s not talking. I don’t really know what else I’m supposed to do. ”
“Mind if I try talking to him?” Happy asks.
“You?” I quirk a brow.
He nods, flashing me a smirk. “Do I need to remind you who my father is?”
It’s then that I realize Happy Slater is probably the best person to be here right now; Jonny Slater battled drug and alcohol addiction publicly for years, and I know he’s been sober for a long time. If Brookes really does have a problem, then maybe Happy will be the one to get him to admit it.
“Let me grab Patrick,” I say. “You’ll need to sign an NDA.”
Happy nods like it’s no big deal, like I assumed he would, and I turn, heading for the dining room.
With some gentle coaxing, Brookes agreed to talk with Happy.
Only Happy. The two of them went out onto the patio, and they’ve been out there almost forty minutes.
I chose to sit in the dining room with the men while they continued their damage control.
And while I pretended to work on my laptop, I’ve been sneaking the occasional glance out through the French doors, trying hard not to appear too obvious, but each time I’ve been caught by either Happy or Brookes or both.
I was, however, relieved to see that both men were smiling.
At one point, Brookes was even laughing, head thrown back, full belly-laugh laughing, so I know that whatever they’re talking about can’t be all bad.
“So?”
I startle, spinning my head away from the direction of the patio, surprised to see Patrick suddenly seated right beside me, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
“What’s this all about, huh?” He arches a brow, nodding his head in the direction of where Happy is outside.
I square my shoulders, averting my eyes to my laptop. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, gee, I don’t know.” Patrick scoffs. “Maybe the big hulking hockey player currently sitting outside with Brookes Devereaux.”
I roll my eyes, shrugging a nonchalant shoulder. “He plays on my dad’s team. We’re… friends.” Even I almost laugh at that.
“Friends?” Patrick’s question is laced with doubt, and I know he’s smiling without even looking at him.
I flash him an unimpressed glance, but thankfully before he can interrogate me any further, we’re interrupted by the French doors opening, Brookes walking in with his head bowed, followed by Happy.
Everyone stands. My eyes flit to Happy to find him looking at me. I quirk a questioning brow, but he shakes his head just once, looking at Brookes.
“Brookes?” Cam speaks, stepping forward.
Brookes lifts his head, his eyes glassy like he’s on the verge of tears.
And honestly my heart hurts for the guy because the turmoil in his gaze is heavy, and I can tell whatever is going on has been going on for a long time.
Pain is at its most unbearable the longer a person tries to hide it; I can only imagine how hard this is for him.
“So, it’s probably not a shock to anyone,” Brookes says, looking around at everyone in the room until his bloodshot eyes land on me. “But… I-I have a drinking problem.”
I offer him a sad smile.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Brookes takes a deep breath, and, shocking us all, he continues with something I don’t think any of us were expecting. “I’m also addicted to… um, Oxy.”
The room falls deathly silent, stifling with tension, to the point it’s almost painful. I glance at Happy as he places a supportive hand on Brookes’s shoulder with a murmured, “Proud of you, man.”
Brookes continues, his voice raw. “It started when I tore my rotator cuff. The doctor gave me pills to manage the post-surgery pain, and I…” He shrugs his shoulders. “It got a little out of hand.”
His gaze zeroes on Cam, looking at him like a little boy looking to his father for approval, afraid that he’s let him down, instead of a grown man at his most vulnerable, looking to his manager for help he’s desperate for.
And it feels like an eternity before anyone makes a move, my stomach in my ass before finally, Cam steps forward and wraps first one arm and then the other around Brookes, holding him tight, and it’s only then that I feel tears threatening to break my composure.
Clearing my throat, I turn away and leave the room, feeling like Brookes and Cam might need a moment. Thankfully, Patrick, Jared, and Happy follow.
“What’d he say to you?” Jared asks Happy quietly.
Happy shakes his head. “No offense, my guy, but that’s really none of your business.”
Jared has the audacity to look affronted, but Happy shrugs a shoulder, continuing, “It’s not any of my business either. I’m just glad I was able to give him the pep-talk he needed to be able to admit it to himself because… it’s been going on for a while as far as I can tell.”
Patrick steps forward, smacking Happy on the back. “Thanks for coming by, Happy.”
Happy’s gaze slides to me, a small smile ghosting his lips. “Any time.”
Between the look in his eyes, and the thought that maybe he’s talking directly to me, that he’ll be here for me any time, I feel my cheeks flush. Happy Slater is truly something, and I’m only starting to see that he’s nothing like I, and so many other people, wrote him off to be.
“Do you need a ride?” Happy asks. “Hannah?”
I almost laugh at how he says my name, like he’s trying to keep it professional. Biting back my smile, I nod, feeling Patrick’s knowing gaze on me. “Um, yeah. Thanks. I’ll just say goodbye to Brookes and grab my things.”