Chapter 17 Brody #2
I’m also at a bar. I got stood up? I think?
She told me she’d meet me at seven. It’s now almost eight, and she’s nowhere in sight. I’m still sitting at this high top alone, but the server was nice enough to bring over mozzarella sticks.
Nothing fried food can’t fix!
I blink, something like anger bubbling in my stomach.
I don’t like to picture her sitting alone, checking the door every time it opens and being disappointed when it’s not who she thought it was.
I shouldn’t be asking this next question—there’s nothing I can do to fix the problem—but I do it anyway, because for as hard as I try, this woman has me wrapped around her finger.
Me
Where are you?
H.E.
A sports bar called Intermission. It’s near the arena, actually.
My head jerks up. I look around the crowded room—the same room she’s in, and… there. At a table tucked away in the corner, under one of Maverick Miller’s jerseys, is Hannah.
The universe has a sense of fucking humor.
I lock my phone, finishing off my beer.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I say, and Mikal blinks at me.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Just need to help a friend with something.” I hop off my stool and smile. “I’ll be quick.”
“He has friends?” Parker asks, and, it’s a valid question, because, no. I don’t have a ton of friends, but Hannah has somehow become one of them.
And I don’t like how sad she looks.
I dodge a group of drunk finance bros and round the bar. I run a hand through my hair then push the sleeves of my sweater up my arms, warm and loose from that first beer. Hannah exchanges her phone for a mozzarella stick, enjoying a long pull of the cheese.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask, and she nearly falls out of her chair. “Easy, Tiny Everett. It’s just me.”
“Brody?” she sputters. “What are you doing here?”
“Told you I was out at a bar.”
“And it’s the same bar where I am?”
“What a coincidence.” I sit across from her and swipe a mozzarella stick from the basket. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Your date stood you up?”
“I wouldn’t call it a date. We’ve talked on a dating app a few times, and we were meeting up to see what our connection was like in person.” Hannah dusts off her hands and shrugs. “I guess I wasn’t her type.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“My biggest fear is finding out she walked in, saw what I looked like, and left.”
“If she did walk in, she wouldn’t have left. She would’ve come over and stolen one of your mozzarella sticks.” I dunk the appetizer in the cup of marinara sauce. “You’re the best-looking person in this bar.”
“You’re just saying that.” A throaty laugh. A lift of her highball glass and the sip of what smells like whiskey neat. “And buttering me up so I’ll let you eat my food.”
“Hannah.” I lean over the table, tapping her elbow. She freezes. “Do I look like the kind of man who would butter someone up?”
Her lips part. Her eyes move from my hair to my chin. Lower, to my throat and down to my chest. She takes her time, and when she finds whatever she’s searching for, her mouth quirks up with a smile.
“No,” she says slowly. “You look like the kind of man who says exactly what he’s thinking and gets whatever he wants.”
“Not always.” I pull my hand away, knuckles rapping on the table to give them something to do. “It’s her loss.”
“You know what? Yeah, it is her loss.” Hannah snorts. “The first red flag was her name.”
“Uh oh. What’s wrong with her name?”
“People with J names tend to bring on higher disappointment than the other twenty-five letters. I’ve never met a Justin I liked.”
“You know what?” I nod in agreement. “I haven’t either.”
“Cheers to that. Wow. I can’t believe you’re here. I like seeing you—” Hannah waves her hand with a smile. “Like this.”
“Like what?” I fix my collar then touch the hair at the back of my neck, wishing I had worn a hat. It feels like I’m on display right now, waiting to hear what she has to say. “This is how I always am.”
“Like without the whistle or the skates…” She trails off with a hum. “Makes you look more human.”
“A shame, since I do love the robot allegations.”
“Stop.” Hannah laughs and swats at my arm. “It’s a good look. Are you sure it’s really you?”
“Brody Saunders, reporting for duty. If you think this is impressive, you should see the photos Liv and I took today,” I say. “I squeezed into a photo booth.”
“You have to show me.”
“Hang on.” I dig my wallet out of my back pocket, pulling out the thin strip of photographs. I hand it her way, watching her hold the corners with her thumbs so she doesn’t make any fingerprint smudges. “She asked. I couldn’t resist.”
“These are fucking adorable. Can I please take photo of this photo and put it as your contact information in my phone?” Hannah taps the one of me sticking my tongue out. “I promise I won’t use it as blackmail.”
“Go ahead. But only because I know how intimidating I look in the next one.”
She laughs and snaps a couple pictures, her smile never dimming as she assesses the grainy photos one more time. “You love Liv so much, don’t you?”
“More than words. She’s my greatest joy.”
“She’s lucky to have a dad like you. Who invests in the things she likes. Who’s involved, even when he’s busy as hell.” She puts a hand on my forearm, right on my bare skin. “It’s so wonderful to see.”
“That’s the bare minimum.” I don’t look at where she’s touching me. “Do you want to come sit at my table? Socializing isn’t my favorite thing in the world, but Parker and Mikal are good people. I can’t promise your mood will improve, but you’d get free drinks out of it.”
“Thanks for the offer, but my best friend invited me over. I’m going to curl up on her couch and wallow in how undesirable I am.”
I’m still trying to understand why someone stood her up. “I bet there are ten people in this bar right now who would fight to the death to talk to you.”
“I’ve always wanted someone to duel for my affection. Thanks for cheering me up, Brody. Seeing you has been the highlight of my night.”
My chest warms with pride. I’m tipsy without having anything else to drink.
The Hannah Everett effect.
Everything is always brighter when she’s around.
“Glad I could help,” I rasp. “You want me to call you an Uber?”
“I’ve got it covered. Thanks for the offer.” Another smile, and she climbs off her chair. She gathers her purse, but she doesn’t leave. Not yet. “That code Grant was talking about on Thanksgiving.”
I straighten my spine. “What about it?”
“You never told me if there’s anything in there about a coach touching their player’s sister.” Her sweater shows off her sharp collarbone, the spot on her throat I’d like to kiss. “Or does it only apply to teammates?”
I knock over the salt shaker. I’m pretty sure my ears are ringing. “I, ah, haven’t read anything about that. No.”
“Good to know,” she says.
If she’s going to play this game, I am too.
“By the way, Hannah.” I hop out of my seat. I walk toward her, our chests close to fusing together. “You should go to sleep tonight knowing you’re anything but undesirable.”
She tips her chin up. Her lipstick is smudged on her bottom lip from drinking, and I want to wipe the rest of it away with my thumb. “Really?”
“Really.” A shaky hand tucking away a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. Another brief touch. “Her loss, remember?”
“Yeah.” She puts a palm on my sweater, fiddling with a loose thread. Nails grazing my chest. “Her loss.”
Hannah steps away. With a last look at me she heads for the door, hips swaying as she walks out into the December night. I’m practically floating on the way back to my table, like ten minutes with her were the highlight of my day.
I think they were.
“There he is.” Parker clasps my shoulder. “We were getting worried about you.”
“Told you I was talking to a friend.” I pour myself another beer, sipping it like it’s water. “It was good to see them.”
“Must’ve been some friend,” Mikal says with a smirk. “Brody is smiling.”
I touch the corner of my mouth, a grin sitting there.
Guess I am.