Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
brOOKE
The plane hums beneath my feet as we level out somewhere over the desert. The cabin smells like recycled air and stale coffee, making me feel sick to my stomach. Not to mention the fact that my dad hasn’t said a word to me since we sat down.
He’s just staring at the back of the seat in front of him.
The book on his lap hasn’t been opened, and the travel pillow, which he always uses, is still attached to his carry-on under the seat.
His silence is definitely intentional. My dad has always been a think before you speak kind of guy, and I have a feeling he didn’t say everything he wanted to say today because we had an audience with Beck, Charlie, and Silas in the room.
I force my gaze from him and look out the window and see Vegas disappearing into brown nothingness.
My reflection in the glass is faint, but I can see my messy ponytail needs to be adjusted.
And when I lift my hand, the sunlight catches my ring.
I shift uncomfortably, wanting to shield it from my dad’s view.
“Do you remember the summer you played soccer and wanted to quit?” my dad says quietly.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I was around ten, right?”
“Yes, exactly ten.” He nods. “When I asked you why you wanted to quit, you looked at me with your little hands on your hips and told me you didn’t love it anymore.”
“I think we can agree that I was pretty bad at soccer.”
“I don’t know that I would say you were bad, but it definitely wasn’t a strength.” He inhales deeply. “My point is, you weren’t comfortable being bad at something that you once loved.”
I’m not really sure where he’s going with this. “Dad, what is it you’re trying to say? Because I’m not finding a connection.”
“It’s because you don’t want to see it.”
He turns toward me, no longer angry and not even disappointed, just thoughtful.
“Brooke, I’m not saying you’ve made a mistake here, but I do think you made a very spontaneous decision in a very exciting moment in time.”
He tries to take my hand, but I pull it away.
I drop my head forward and look at my hands in my lap. Looking at my ring.
“I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t pressured.” I huff a laugh. “Hell, it was even my idea.”
“Don’t you think maybe you just got swept up in the moment though? That’s what I’m trying to say.”
“I appreciate you, Dad, and maybe if we’d had this conversation before yesterday, I might have agreed with you. But Silas seems to want to make a go of this, and I’m not afraid of trying.”
“I believe that.” He watches me. “But your good intentions don’t protect you from consequences.”
Consequences. Interesting word choice.
“Brooke,” he says, “his life is about to change, honey. Fast. There will be expectations put on him that can be overwhelming. Do you think you’re truly ready for all of that?”
Silas’s face pops into my mind. He sounded so sure of us. And when he told me he wasn’t going anywhere, I believed him.
“Yes, I think I am.” My voice is not as confident as it was this morning.
“And what if he decides that he needs to put football first?”
“Did you have these same conversations with Beck? Or with Beck and Charlie?”
“It’s not the same, and you know it.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “You’ve always been so centered—anchored really. And I don’t want you to lose yourself. Or what you want.”
He hesitates, then presses on. “And don’t forget your own dreams. Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve wanted to be a climatologist. What does this mean for your future plans?”
“I’m still getting my degree,” I say quickly.
“I know.” His voice softens, but the worry doesn’t fade. “I also know what it’s like to fall for someone who’s the life of the party. I know how easy it is to lose yourself in someone else’s orbit—and then wake up one day, wondering how your life ended up on a road you never meant to take.”
He gestures vaguely, like he’s trying not to sound accusatory. “It was a big weekend. The game. The celebrations. I can see how you might’ve gotten swept up in all the … frenzy.”
My stomach tightens.
I look down at my hands, at the ring catching the light, suddenly very aware of how permanent it looks.
“Dad,” I say quietly, “I didn’t marry him because he won a game or because we were caught up in the excitement.”
I lift my gaze, forcing myself to hold his eyes, trying to summon the confidence I felt yesterday—before doubt started creeping in from every direction.
“I married him because of who he is when the noise dies down. And Dad, I’ve had feelings for him for a while. The feelings…didn’t happen overnight.”
“I believe you feel that because it’s who you are.
You see people with depth. I just think that a lot of change is about to come that boy’s way.
He’s entering a career that rewards selfishness.
And I’m not saying that to be mean; it’s just the truth.
I’m very proud of your brother, but he’s a man I know and raised.
I don’t know Silas in the same way as I know my own son. ”
“So, you think he’ll change,” I say.
“Honey, I think everything will change.” He reaches over to take my hand, and this time, I let him.
“I’m just not sure where all this leaves you.
And if I were a betting man, I would give this two months, tops.
In fact, I’ll even get the annulment paperwork ready for you, so when it happens, you’ll be prepared. ”
“Dad, that’s not fair. You don’t know what’s going to happen. And I’m not fragile. I can handle it. And it’s not like I don’t know the kind of dedication it takes to be a professional athlete.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re fragile. I think you’ll allow yourself to endure more than you should. Like you always have.”
Well, that hits deep.
A bump of turbulence interrupts us, and I grab hold of the armrests.
“Are you okay?” my dad asks.
“I’m fine. The bumps make me nervous when we fly.”
He pauses, then starts to say something, then stops again. Takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.
“Do you love him?”
The question lands gently, but it hits hard.
I open my mouth, ready with something safe. Something practical. Something that keeps everyone calm. But nothing comes out.
Because love isn’t supposed to happen like this. It’s supposed to be slow. Earned. Measured in dates and time and certainty. Not in one reckless night that somehow turned into everything.
Except …
He makes me feel safe. Not in a grand, dramatic way, but just because he’s there. My mind stops racing because he isn’t asking me to be anyone other than who I already am.
He listens. Really listens. Not to respond, not to fix—just to understand.
He asks what I want—and means it.
He’s the calm after the panic.
“I think I could. I know I care an awful lot about him. But I’m not sure I can define those feelings yet.”
“I think he’s in love with you, but loving someone isn’t the hard part. It’s the staying amid all the challenges and changes.”
I try to swallow down the lump in my throat.
“Silas hasn’t hesitated once, Dad.”
“And neither did you, from what it sounds like.” He smiles.
“So, you’re saying the hardest parts are coming.”
“Of course they are. Everything’s fun in Vegas. Heck, a college campus makes life seem pretty easy. All your friends and obligations in one place. Wait until the combine and the graduation and your dreams and where those take you. It will make your relationship strong. Or it will break.”
I close my eyes and rest my head back. I understand what he’s saying, and I do think we can get through the next few months together.
But …
What if my dad is right?
Fear starts to creep in. I picture the training. The long distance. Being the one waiting patiently and understanding. Not fearing Silas intentionally hurting me, but maybe the thought of being left behind. Or worse, me falling harder.
“Look, maybe I’m wrong. The time I’ve spent with Silas over the last few years, he seems like a really good kid.
But you’re my daughter, and I don’t want to see you put your life on hold for a weekend romance.
You want to finish school, you want a career.
I also think you should ask yourself whether you’re prepared to fight for space in someone else’s world. ”
My chest tightens, and my breaths become shallow. Because I don’t know the answer.
We don’t say anything else the rest of the short flight home.
But as the plane begins its descent, my father squeezes my hand once.
“One final thought,” he says. “You’re not stuck. You’re allowed to choose yourself. You have your own path.”
I nod.
Because the farther we get from Vegas, I’m starting to wonder if he’s right. Except what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas. I’m going home with a husband and a father who's betting our relationship won't last.