Chapter 35 Truth with a View
Truth with a View
brOOKS
My glass house perches on the mountainside like a floating display case for my insecurities.
Floor-to-ceiling windows, minimalist furniture worth more than most people’s cars, and a view that realtors would kill their firstborns to list—all of it designed to scream “successful hockey player with his shit together.”
Oh, the irony.
I pace the sleek hardwood floors, checking my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Sydney will be here any second, and I’m about to tell her that the man she loves is probably dying. Not exactly the romantic evening I had planned when I bought this place.
The wine’s breathing—some expensive Cabernet the interior designer insisted would complement the “aesthetic”—and I’ve changed my shirt three times.
As if the right combination of cotton and collar will somehow cushion the blow of “Hey, I most likely have a degenerative brain disease that will slowly rob me of everything that makes me me.”
Outside, the sun begins its descent behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that look like a postcard. Below, Boise sprawls, lights winking on as dusk approaches. It’s the kind of view people post on Instagram with hashtags like “blessed” or “living my best life.”
My phone buzzes with a text.
SYDNEY: At your gate. This place is FIRE. Did you buy an entire mountain??
I smile despite myself and press the button to open the electronic gate.
The smile fades as I watch through the window as her car—sensible, practical, so Sydney—winds its way up the private drive.
My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape, to run to this conversation, no matter how bad, so it’s on the other side.
The doorbell chimes, an understated tone selected by the same designer who picked out all the finishes and lighting fixtures. I take a deep breath, wiping suddenly damp palms on my jeans, and move to answer it.
Sydney stands on the threshold, hair catching the last rays of sunlight, her eyes wide as she takes in the entrance hall with its two-story ceiling and floating staircase. She changed into jeans and a blouse, casual but put-together, and she’s so beautiful it hurts to look at her.
“Holy shit, Brooks,” she says by way of greeting. “When you said you had a place in the mountains, I was picturing, like, a cabin. Maybe a nice A-frame. Not...” She gestures broadly at everything. “...the superhero villain lair from a Marvel movie.”
I laugh, tension cracking. “You should see where I keep the laser sharks.”
“Seriously, though.” She steps inside, her eyes traveling up to the chandelier that cost a small fortune. “This is incredible. Who knew being good at chasing a rubber disc could pay so well?”
“I didn’t pick any of it.” I close the door behind her. “Hired a designer after I signed my last contract. Told her to make it look nice.”
Sydney turns to me, her expression softening. “She did her job.”
“Let me give you the tour before it gets too dark. The sunset view is the best part.”
I lead her through the main floor, watching her reactions more than the spaces themselves. The kitchen with its too-many appliances and waterfall island. “Is it so fun to cook here?” The living room with its massive fireplace and low-slung leather furniture. “Very pimp.”
I cut in, saying, “The designer called it ‘masculine minimalism.’ I call it having nowhere comfortable to nap.”
Then off to the home gym with its wall of windows facing the forest. “Wow, you don’t need virtual reality glasses to motivate you in here.”
With each room, each quip exchanged, the knot in my stomach tightens. This isn’t just showing Sydney my house; it’s showing her what her life could be like. What she’s potentially signing up for. A beautiful place with a view, and a man who’s falling apart inside it.
Finally, we reach the enclosed patio at the back of the house, my favorite space and the reason I bought this architectural monstrosity in the first place.
Three glass walls and a ceiling that can retract in summer, creating a space that feels both protected and exposed.
Comfortable outdoor furniture arranged around a firepit, and beyond, the valley stretching to the horizon, the sky now a deepening purple as the sun makes its final descent.
“Brooks,” Sydney breathes, moving to the glass wall. “This is... wow.”
“I know.” I stand beside her. “Sometimes I just sit out here for hours, watching the weather change. Thought of you, actually. Figured you’d appreciate the atmospheric show.”
She turns to me, a smile playing on her lips. “Are you saying you think about me when you’re alone in your lair?”
“All the time.” The truth slips out before I can package it in sarcasm or deflection.
Her smile fades into something more serious, more searching. I look away, afraid of what she might see in my eyes.
“Wine?” I move to the small wet bar in the corner where I’ve set out the bottle and glasses.
“Please.” She settles onto one of the plush outdoor sofas. “This place is something out of a dream.”
I pour two glasses, using the mundane task to steady my hands, my breathing. When I turn back, she’s silhouetted against the darkening sky. I hit a switch, and subtle lighting illuminates the space—enough to see by, not enough to compete with the view.
“Here.” I hand her a glass as I sit beside her, not too close, not yet. “To new beginnings.”
She clinks her rim against mine, her eyes never leaving my face. “New beginnings,” she echoes, taking a sip. “Mmm, good. Fancy.”
“Came with the house,” I joke weakly. “Along with the pretentiousness.”
She laughs, and for a moment, everything feels normal. Just two people enjoying wine and a sunset, not a conversation that might end us before we’ve really begun.
“So,” she says after a moment, “how’s the shoulder now?”
“Sore as shit, but it’s fine.”
“Good. You’ll need it for the playoff push.”
“Yeah. Team needs all hands on deck.” I stare into my glass. “How about you? Ready for KBSN?”
Sydney’s whole face lights up. “Beyond ready. I’ve already started prepping segments, researching players.
They want me to cover the college basketball tournament in the spring, maybe even travel with the team.
” She leans forward, animated in a way that makes my chest ache with affection.
“And get this—they’re pairing me with Paul Meyers for the hockey broadcasts.
Paul freaking Meyers, Brooks! The guy’s a legend. ”
“He’s a fossil.” I grin. “But he knows his stuff. He’ll be lucky to work with you.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself.” A hint of her old insecurity peeks through. “That I’ve earned this. That I’m good enough.”
“You are,” I say firmly. “The best.”
She holds my gaze. “Thanks for believing in me. Even when I don’t believe in myself.”
The perfect opening. My heart kicks into overdrive, my mouth suddenly dry despite the wine. “Sydney,” I say, setting my glass on the coffee table. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Her expression becomes more guarded. “Okay.”
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to hold her gaze. “Let me finish the whole thing before you speak.”
She nods, her body angling toward mine.
“I’m in love with you.” The words rush out. “Completely, utterly in love. I have been for years. Even before this whole fake engagement thing. Since the time you climbed that tree so far, I lost a bet to Jonah.” I laugh shakily.
Sydney’s breath catches, her eyes widening, glistening with unshed tears. She opens her mouth to speak, but I raise a hand, stopping her.
“But there’s something else you need to know.” I swallow hard, fighting the urge to look away, to protect myself from her reaction. “I most likely have Huntington’s disease.”
Her face goes blank with shock, and I hurry on, needing to get it all out before I lose my nerve.
“It’s a progressive, fatal brain disorder.
No cure. Both my parents are carriers, which gives me a 75% chance of developing it.
I’ve never been tested because...” My voice cracks.
“I’m terrified. Terrified of knowing, terrified of how it might change everything.
How I play. My career if the NHL found out. My life... us.”
Sydney sits perfectly still, her face a complex map of emotions I can’t fully read. We go quiet, filled by the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the heating system keeping the cold mountain air at bay.
“So that’s why you pushed me away,” she whispers, understanding dawning in her eyes. “When I mentioned LA, you saw an easy out.”
I nod, shame burning through me. “I was trying to protect you. From me, from my mess, from a future that might include watching me deteriorate.” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated with my own cowardice.
“What kind of life is that to offer someone? What kind of selfish bastard would I be to ask you to sign up for that?”
“Brooks,” she says, her voice achingly gentle. “I can’t believe the impossible burden you’ve been carrying.” She shakes her head, tears finally spilling over, tracking down her cheeks in silver lines. “How long have you known? And who knows?”
“I found out last year when my parents went and got genetic testing to deal with other health issues. The bloodwork came back, and the doctors notified them so they could tell me. So… my parents know, obviously. And Meema and Jonah. That’s it.
Well, and now you.” I clear my throat. “If the league finds out I’m at risk and kept playing anyway.
..” I trail off, the implications clear.
“Brooks, nothing about this sounds easy.” Disbelief colors her tone.
“Easier than watching people look at me differently. Like I’m already gone. Like I’m something to pity.”
She reaches out, taking my hand in hers. “I love you,” she says, her voice pure emotion. “And I could never see you differently.”
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by her words, by the way she’s looking at me—not with pity or fear, but with a fierce, protective kind of love that takes my breath away.
“You don’t have to say that,” I whisper.
“I don’t expect... I just needed you to know.
Before we go any further. You deserve the whole truth. ”
“And now I have it,” she says simply. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”
We sit for a moment, her hand still in mine, as the last light fades from the sky, the city sparkling below us.
“I want to be with you forever—give you everything,” I say finally. “But I want you to take your time and think about what that would mean. It’s a huge decision, and I don’t want you to make it tonight on impulse. If you decide it’s too much—”
“There’s nothing to consider,” Sydney interrupts, her voice strong now. “Being with you is the easiest decision I’ve ever had to make.”
“You can’t mean that,” I say, though my fingers tighten around hers. “You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”
“Neither do you.” Her eyes flash with that stubborn determination I adore.
“You haven’t been tested. You might not have it at all.
But even if you do...” She cups my face with her free hand, forcing me to meet her eyes.
“We’ll deal with it together. Because you know what scares me more than any possible future with you? A guaranteed future without you.”
Her raw honesty steals my breath. “Syd—”
“Whatever time we have—whether it’s decades or days—I want to spend it with you.” Her thumb brushes away a tear I didn’t realize I’d shed. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”
I pull her into a fierce embrace, my body shaking with relief and pent-up emotion.
Her arms come around me, strong and sure, as the weight I’ve been carrying alone for so long finally begins to lift.
Outside, the sky has deepened to black, stars emerging one by one, a universe of possibilities spreading before us.
“I love you. So much,” I whisper into her hair, the words still new and fragile on my tongue. “I thought I’d never get to say that to you.”
“Well, get used to it.” Sydney’s voice muffled against my chest. “Because I plan on hearing it every day for as long as we have.”
As we pull apart, her hands come up to frame my face, her eyes searching mine. “We’re going to figure this out. All of it. Together.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. For so long, I’ve faced my fears alone—on the ice, in the quiet darkness of sleepless nights. The idea that I don’t have to anymore, that this incredible woman wants to stand beside me through whatever comes, is almost too much to comprehend.
“Together.” My voice is rough with emotion.
Sydney smiles, the expression transforming her tear-streaked face into something beautiful. “Now,” she says, her tone lightening, “are you going to kiss me in these beautiful, romantic digs, or what?”
I laugh at her ability to find humor even in our most serious moments. “Definitely.”
As our lips meet, the last of my reservations melts away. Whatever the future holds—tests, diagnoses, challenges I can’t yet imagine—I’m no longer facing it alone. We have each other, and that’s more than enough.
It’s everything.