25. Brooke
25
brOOKE
T he brown paper package is tucked carefully under my arm like the latest designer handbag. It was couriered over for Miles from his agent’s office, and I offered to bring it by the arena, since he’s going to be in team stuff all day.
Security recognizes me and lets me through with a wave. I head toward the practice area, the sounds of squeaking shoes and basketballs guiding me.
When I reach the end of the hall, florescent lights illuminate the Kodiaks in practice jerseys, working through drills at both ends of the court. All the guys are working hard, but my attention slides to Miles.
He’s cutting through the defense, shoulder to shoulder with Clay, putting up shots a perimeter player has no business getting. But he’s been asked to do more this year, to be two guys really, and he’s doing it.
Coach blows his whistle and the guys head for the sidelines.
Except Miles. He looks for me.
When he jogs over, I say, “Hi. I didn’t want to interrupt practice but I wanted to bring you this.”
He brushes his lips across my cheek before he opens the package, his brows lifting. “What is… Shit.”
The blue basketball shoe is sleek and sculpted. The sponsor’s logo is on the side, but it’s the name across the heel that has him gripping the sole tighter.
Miles’s name.
“No way,” he says.
His agent called shortly after the Kodiaks released their campaign for Miles to make the all-star game on social media.
Miles and I sat together, him on the couch and me curled in his lap, and went through the details line by line until the early hours of the morning.
“I know you still have to finalize the deal,” I say, “but they wanted you to see a prototype.”
The sponsor wants to keep it under wraps until the all-star game in the hopes that he’d be named a player.
He gets a bunch of cash when the deal is announced, and a bonus if he’s named an all-star.
“Grams is never going to believe they’re putting my name on a basketball shoe. She’ll think I made it up.” Miles’s voice is full of awe.
“Then I’ll tell her it’s legit.”
I throw my arms around Miles, and he lifts me off my feet. When he sets me back down, he kisses me. His mouth is hot and hungry, but he gives as much as he takes. His fingers thread in my hair as though he can’t get enough.
“This wouldn’t have happened without you.” He says it against my mouth.
Part of me wants to argue, but a bigger part wants to absorb all of this moment.
My fingers slip against his bare shoulders, which are still damp from sweat. I give zero fucks.
The sounds of laughter and conversation and sneakers registers too late.
The rest of the Kodiaks sweeps down the hall, en route to the locker room. Jay spots us, his gaze going cool.
Miles stiffens, and I squeeze his hand before calling after my brother.
“Hey. Got a second?”
I slip out of Miles’s hands and start toward my brother.
He shakes his head. “Not now.”
“Jay. Come on?—”
“Not right now.” He turns his back on me and silently follows his team to the locker room.
* * *
MILES
“This a palace or what?” I ask as we step into the next room.
I’m taking Grams on a tour of a new retirement home. They have around-the-clock care if needed, activities every hour of the day including ballroom dancing, and the best food in the state. I know because I read all the reviews.
With the shoe deal, I’ll be able to keep her in the best standard of care as long as she needs it.
But it’s a nonstarter if she doesn’t want to be here.
“There’s a games room. I don’t need a whole room for games,” she says lightly.
“Personally, I have found games to be very fulfilling. Also lucrative.”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“You don’t like what they have? I’ll get you foosball,” I say.
Brooke comes around the corner. “The bathrooms are definitely first class. Oooh, cards. Want to test it out? You seem like a woman who can beat the house at poker.”
She helps my grandmother into a seat and takes one next to her. Brooke deals, the two of them deciding on rules with a few quick exchanges, then they play a hand as if I’m not even there.
My heart kicks at the sight of my girl and the woman who’s my closest family smiling and teasing and laughing.
With a few days straight in Denver, I’ve been trying to get Grams’s housing arrangements sorted out. Soon it’ll be all-star break.
Pressure in the Kodiaks organization is dialing up, on and off court. We’re not at the top of our division, but we’re clinging to a playoff spot. Our plan for the post-season has to be hammered out in a matter of days, but more personal concerns are hanging over my head.
“You two going to deal me in?”
“Ante up, honey,” Grams says.
“We’re playing for gum,” Brooke informs me.
I pull a hundred dollar bill from my wallet.
Brooke and Grams exchange a look.
“High roller,” Brooke says.
“We can take him,” Grams says.
Half an hour later, my grandmother has cleaned us out of cash and gum. She insists on returning the cash to me, stuffing it in my pocket as if I’m ten and she’s giving me spending money.
“What do you think?” I ask Grams, leading her out to the car.
“I did like the games.”
“Yeah? That’s it?”
Her eyes crinkle. “You worry, and I can tell you all day not to, but you’re not going to change.”
I turn that over as we return my grandmother to her current home.
“I think she liked it,” Brooke says, nudging me.
“I think so, too.” I pull her under my arm as we walk out. “Enough about my problems. We should get out of here and celebrate your latest campaign. My girl will be the front woman for athleisure in no time.”
Once we’re back at the car, I glance over to see Brooke staring out the window.
“You okay?” I ask.
She shifts toward me, leaning an elbow against the door. “Vivaro has been behaving unprofessionally with a bunch of creators.”
The concern in her voice makes it clear how serious this is to her.
“Tell me.”
She does, starting with the complaints from a woman named Alicia. She’s put together a document with all of the details.
“I’ve been hesitating over sending this complaint off, because I’m not sure it’s my fight. I’m not sure if I can win. I’m not even sure if it matters.”
I cover her hand with mine. “Only thing I’m sure of is that they’re lucky to have you speaking for them. You’re a badass, Brooke Ellis.”
Her lips curve. I can’t resist brushing my mouth over them.
“My mom actually gave me good advice for once. Not that it was free.” She grimaces. “She wants me to meet Kevin as a favor to her and the campaign.”
My hackles rise. He was always an asshole, but as a guy who makes his living with strokes of pens and pieces of paper, it’s easy to underestimate how dangerous he is.
“I don’t like it.”
“You’re telling me not to?”
I hiss out a breath. “I’m telling you I’ll be watching from the street with my face plastered against the window in case he so much as looks at you wrong.”
She laughs. “That’s sweet. I’m not going to do it.” Her thumb strokes my face. “There’s nothing that ties you to him, right? That could come back to hurt you?”
“Nothing.” I try not to think of the photographs long buried, focusing instead on the relief on Brooke’s face.
“You coming to the game tomorrow?” I ask.
“Boston. It’s a big one.”
I nod. “Sponsors are going to be there, so I want to put on a show.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”