21. Brooke
21
brOOKE
“ P rincess. I was ready to send out a search party?—"
“It was Kevin.”
I walk in the door to see Miles getting up from the couch, Waffles tucked under one arm. “Huh?”
“Kevin was responsible for the drugs in your locker.”
I fill him in on all of it—Caroline’s help, the trainer. His expression hardens as I talk.
“Caroline said he thought you had proof of what happened back in college,” I finish.
“I have photos of him in a pretty compromising position. But I’m not sure it’s enough to bring him down today.” Miles shakes his head. “He’s a prick, but this is definitely another level.”
In retrospect, it makes perfect sense. He thinks Miles has details on his drug use from college and decides to use drugs to bring down the rival he hates.
“He called and threatened me. He wanted me to stop looking into it.”
“What?” Miles is across the couch in a second. His hands find my arms, already tight with concern and simmering rage. “When I’m done with him, he won’t be able to see fucking anything .”
“No.” I brush my palms over his face. “I’m fine, and you will get your team into the playoffs because that’s your job. I don’t need you fighting for me… unless it’s with your words,” I amend.
Miles groans, pulling me into his arms so tight it’s hard to breathe.
“I don’t like this, Princess.”
“I know, but we don’t have proof unless the trainer comes forward.”
We sink back onto the couch, but neither of us is relaxed. He’s perched on the edge, and so am I.
We brainstorm ideas, including going to the police, to my mom.
“She won’t do anything,” I say. “Kevin’s family matters to her campaign. Even more if they’re going through this big merger.”
All night, he holds me.
The next morning, Miles has to go to practice. “Come with me,” he says.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like you being out here by yourself.”
I try to push it from my mind when I go to work out.
When I shower.
When I take Waffles for a walk.
But anger surges through me, hot and fierce.
I see a post on social saying Kevin is accepting an ethics award on behalf of his family firm this week. In the photo, he’s grinning, standing next to his grinning father and grandfather.
A sharp knock at the door jolts me. As I peer through the peephole, my breath catches in my throat. It's my mother, her face set in lines of grim determination.
The last thing I need right now is another lecture about staying out of this mess, but something in her expression gives me pause. With a deep breath, I open the door.
“What are you doing here?”
She steps inside, her eyes scanning the room before settling on me.
I brace myself for the familiar arguments, but as she takes a seat across from me, I notice something different in her demeanor. There's a tension in her shoulders, a glint in her eye that I've only seen when she's preparing for a major political battle.
“I owe you an apology,” she says, catching me completely off guard. “I should have taken your concerns about Kevin more seriously. But I'm here now, and I want you to know that I'm on your side.”
I stare at her, unsure if I've heard her correctly.
She reaches into her briefcase and pulls out a thick folder. “I've been doing a little digging of my own.”
My heart races as she spreads documents across the coffee table.
I leaf through the papers, my mind reeling. “How did you find this?”
A small, grim smile plays at the corners of her mouth. “I didn't get where I am by playing nice. I have contacts, people who owe me favors. It didn't take long for the cracks to show.”
I look at her, a mix of emotions churning in my gut: gratitude, hope, and a lingering thread of suspicion. “Why now?”
Her expression softens, a rare vulnerability shining through her political armor. “Miles came to my office. He reminded me about my responsibilities to you. I wanted to protect you, Brooke, but I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten.”
My mouth parts in shock. The sincerity in her voice brings unexpected tears to my eyes. “So, what do we do with all this?”
My mother's eyes harden, the seasoned politician taking charge. “Once this goes public, Kevin's family will have no choice but to cut him loose to save their own skins.”
A surge of hope rises in my chest, but it's quickly tempered by worry. “Mom, this could destroy your campaign.”
She takes my hand. “I've spent my entire career fighting for justice, for what's right, but I've never had a more important cause than protecting my daughter.”
I squeeze her hand, overwhelmed. For years, I've felt as though I was fighting alone, even against my own family. Now, to have my mother not just on my side but leading the charge? It's almost too much to process.
As quickly as it appeared, her vulnerability is gone, replaced by steely determination. “We have work to do.”
MILES
“Anyone still have legs?” Rookie groans as we head out of practice and back to the locker room.
“Coach didn’t leave much of us to face Boston with,” Damon agrees.
Two hours of hard drills had us on the floor. Thing is, our season will come down to Boston in the playoff game. It’s our one chance at making it through.
We shower and change, the hot water making me feel slightly more human.
“I’m going crash hard,” Jay says. “It’s impossible to nap during the day because they’re working on the house. But at night, I’m out cold.”
Rookie looks and each of us. “You can’t go home yet.”
Jay finishes packing his bag and straightens. “Why not?”
“Movie night,” he declares.
Normally, I’d be down, but it feels like the wrong time.
“We can’t do a movie night. We have too much going on,” I say.
“That’s exactly why we should,” he insists. “We need to remember what’s at stake for us.”
“Millions of dollars in contracts?” Atlas asks. “Sponsorships? Bragging rights?”
“No. I mean, yeah, but more than that.” Rookie clears his throat. “It’s our own belief in ourselves, you know?”
He expects us to laugh, but no one does.
“Nah, I think he’s right,” Jay decides.
I relent. “So, the big question: Mighty Ducks or Little Giants ?”
An hour later, eight of us are taking up seats in Clay’s home theater. The room in his new house was completely converted to provide terraced seating with chairs and three huge sectional sofas.
I’m leaning on my side on one, Jay taking up the other end.
We’re a few minutes into the movie when my phone rings. The guys protest and throw popcorn at me as I step outside and answer. “Hey, Princess. Where are you?”
“Hi. I just got back to the condo. Mom and I went to talk. Thank you for getting her on board.”
Her words have my spirits lifting. “I’m glad it worked.” Dropping by the Senator’s office was one of the easiest things I’ve ever done.
Not the getting in the door part, but the rest of it. I’ve wanted to tell to her exactly how incredible her daughter is, how she’s blind if she doesn’t see Brooke needs her, for a long time.
“See you in a couple hours?” I say. “We’re all at Clay’s watching Little Giants .”
She chuckles. “You picked Devon Sawa over Joshua Jackson?”
“No way. Rick Moranis over Emilio Estevez. You jealous?”
“That you’re watching that movie? Yeah. I think I might need a rewatch.”
“You’re going to drag your fancy ass over here to watch kids’ movies? I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Half an hour later, the theater door swings wide. Brooke’s standing there with Nova and Chloe and Sierra, their arms full of pillows and bags of snacks. The girls pile in, and we have to shift as they take up seats around us.
I pull Brooke between my legs. Chloe takes a chair on the other side of Jay.
“Are you crying?” Brooke asks her brother, kicking him lightly.
“You know I’m a sucker for the underdog,” he says.
With everyone here, it feels like home—like family.
This is what it’s all for.
We’ve got to face Boston in a couple of days.
But there’s one more battle first.