20. Brooke
20
brOOKE
T he celebration at Mile High is a small reprieve from the looming playoffs. The team is crowded into booths, and I claimed a spot next to Miles.
“We did it!” Rookie crows.
“Sodas and water on the house,” Sierra proclaims with a flourish, setting a tray on the table to hand out glasses.
“There you are,” I say to Nova when she arrives, but my friend’s expression is grim and at odds with the celebratory atmosphere. “What’s wrong?”
She holds up her phone, and I take it to read the email message.
It’s a note from Coastal Gallery saying they want to postpone the show. The don’t even mention a date, just a statement that they’ll “revisit later in the year.”
My stomach plummets. “They can’t cancel the show without cause. There’s a cancellation fee if they do.”
“But they didn’t say cancel, they said postpone,” she reminds me.
I pull up the agreement and read through. “I still don’t see anything that would let them do that. Unless…” My heart sinks. “They can say we didn’t deliver the pieces that were agreed to.”
“Maybe I pushed too hard with the new pieces,” Nova murmurs.
I can feel the disappointment rolling off my friend in waves.
“You didn’t,” I say quickly.
I pushed too hard.
What if I was trying to impress Nova, to advocate for her and prove I was capable?
I step outside for some air, my head spinning.
Helping the people I love matters more to me than managing my own brand. Which is why this failure hurts more.
“Wow, Brooke Ellis. I would’ve thought you’d do something different with your hair now that you’re dating a celebrity.”
The familiar voice slices into my thoughts.
Disbelief washes over me as I spin to face the alley. “Caroline?!”
My sorority sister closes the distance between us, her black wool coat flipped up at the collar against her white-blond hair.
“I debated whether to come to you about this. I wanted to leave you in the dirt, but I saw what happened to your boyfriend.”
The surprise at seeing her is gone. “You mean you saw him and the rest of the Kodiaks crush Boston,” I say.
“No,” she says plainly. “I mean his recent downward spiral that’s been spectacularly covered by the media.” I’m about to shut her down when she continues. “I wanted to forget you ever existed, but Elise told me what you said about me in New York. That you did me a favor. So I’m about to do you one.”
My protests die in my throat. I wait her out.
“I saw someone on the bench at the Kodiaks game a few weeks ago, a man who met with Kevin.”
“Kevin,” I echo, feeling a step slow. “Why would Kevin meet with someone on the Kodiaks?”
“There’s only one reason—he thought he could use them.” She lets that sink in a moment. “He wanted to get to Miles.”
Kevin.
He was behind this.
My head is pounding. “Kevin tried to get Miles in trouble with the team… for revenge?”
“So, I haven’t seen Kevin a lot lately, on account of the whole calling off the engagement thing.” She shifts delicately on her feet. “But I did go to his offices to pick some of my things up, and he was already two drinks in. Turns out the trainer was supposed to get Miles’s phone. Kevin thought he had pictures, evidence of something he’d done in school, but the trainer chickened out and didn’t get the phone.
“Anyway, once the rumors went around about the drugs, he thought it would look like Miles was a victim if the phone was gone. So, Kevin figured it was working out better this way—Miles would be discredited, and anything he said would seem unreliable.”
I’m trying to catch up, but there’s an important piece missing.
“Do you know which trainer?”
Caroline laughs.
“Brooke, do you not remember when I memorized my entire economics course without attending half the classes on three hours of sleep after the Kappa spring mixer?” She blinks at me as if I’m being purposely dense. “I have a photographic memory. Of course I know which trainer.”
The pieces are falling into place in my mind, a plan taking shape. “I have to talk to the assistant trainer.”
He might still be at the training facility. I can’t exactly call him up and demand the truth, but I can surprise him in person.
Caroline grabs my arm as I move toward the door. “I’m going with you. We might not be friends, but Kappas don’t let Kappas put themselves in that kind of danger.”
I make my excuses to Miles and the others at the bar. I say I’m tired, and he offers to come with me, but I insist I’m fine.
The drive to the arena passes in a blur of streetlights and nervous energy. By the time we pull into the parking lot, my palms are slick with sweat.
I throw the car in park in an empty spot with a view of the lot.
We sit there for five minutes. Ten.
“He’s probably not coming,” Caroline says.
“Thanks, Scooby Doo.” There are still a couple of dozen cars with company parking passes—enough that I want to stick it out a bit longer.
She lifts a shoulder and pulls out a pack of almonds to snack on.
It’s almost an hour before I spot the assistant trainer, heading toward his car. Taking a deep breath, I step out of my vehicle and call out to him. He freezes at the sound of my voice, his eyes darting around like a cornered animal’s. As I approach, I see the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the tremor in his hands.
“Josh? We need to talk,” I say, keeping my voice low and steady, “about the drugs you planted in Miles's locker.”
His face goes pale. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he stammers, but the lie is weak, transparent.
I press on, my heart racing. “We know it was you. We have a witness. But I also know you didn't do it of your own free will. Kevin Hildebrand put you up to it.”
The trainer's eyes widen in shock and fear. “How… Who told you that?”
“It doesn't matter,” I say. His reaction is as good as a confession. “What matters is that you have a choice now. You can come clean, help us expose Kevin for what he really is, or you can go down with him when this all comes out.”
I see the conflict in his eyes, the war between fear and conscience. For a moment, I think I've gotten through to him. But then his phone chimes, and as he glances at the screen, swallowing hard.
“I-I can't,” he chokes out, his voice trembling. “You don't understand. It’s my family. I have to protect them.”
My stomach drops.
He didn’t do it for a payday. He did it out of fear.
“I'm sorry.” Josh looks at me with desperate, pleading eyes. “I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I won't say anything else. Please, just leave me alone.”
Before I can respond, he's fumbling with his car keys, practically diving into the vehicle. I watch him peel out of the parking lot, my mind reeling.
As I drag my feet back to the car, the weight of what's happened settles over me.
“What happened?” Caroline demands, opening the door to look at me over the top.
We were so close.
I lean against the car, suddenly exhausted. The cool metal against my forehead is the only thing that feels real in this moment of crushing defeat.
Caroline drops me off at Miles’s condo when the phone vibrates.
Unknown number.
I click Decline. A moment later, it’s ringing again. My heart pounds, a sense of foreboding settling over me. This time, I answer.
“Hello?”
“You think you're clever.” Kevin’s voice is sharp, cutting through the static. “I know you’ve been talking to people.”
“Listen—”
“No, you listen.” His tone is low, menacing. “You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, no idea what I'm capable of.”
“What happened to being sorry?” I demand.
He chuckles. “I have regrets, Brooke, but that doesn’t mean I don’t also have plans.”
My mind races. I knew his contrition was too good to be true.
“My family firm’s donations form a big part of your mom’s reelection campaign. If you don't back off, you're going to wish you had.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Are you threatening me?”
“I'm saying that you have a lot at stake. You and your family.”
The line goes dead.