26. Berkley
Every Version Of You
“Mom?”
“Hi, baby!” my mom said as she swiftly crossed the space between us and pulled me into a hug. “We’re not late, are we?”
“Uhh…no,” I said. “Puck hasn’t dropped yet. But what are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
In a daze, I hugged my father, sister, and brother in turn, waiting for my mom to answer me.
“Brent chartered a plane for us,” she said. “He wanted to surprise you, and since his whole family is in town, this seemed like the perfect time!”
“Actually, I drove,” Jessica quipped, and I glared at her.
My mom pursed her lips. “Yes, Jessica drove. But Dad, Logan, and I flew. I’ve never flown private before, and now I’m not sure I can ever go back.”
I simply stared at my family, unable to move or speak.
Logan, catching onto my distress, said, “Why aren’t you more excited to see us?”
“I am excited to see you,” I said, though the words fell flatter than I intended. “I’m just surprised.”
“Well that was the whole point!” My mom clapped happily, as though congratulating herself on a job well done.
Meanwhile, I was plotting ways to kill my boyfriend.
Brent had gone behind my back and done this. Any normal woman would be thrilled at the prospect of our families joining, at everyone I loved being in the same room. Instead, I fumed.
It was one thing to shower me in expensive gifts and trips, and to bring Lexie into the mix on occasion. It was entirely different—and wholly inappropriate—to pull the same shit with my family.
Especially when I’d expressly warned him never to pull this shit with me again.
“You’re mad,” Logan said. It wasn’t a question.
“Extremely,” I said through gritted teeth.
“You can chew him a new ass later,” her brother said, cupping a hand around the ball of my shoulder and squeezing. The touch grounded me, forced me to take a few slow, deep breaths. In for five, hold for four, out for five. Just like years of yoga had taught me. “For now,” Logan continued, “be happy we’re all together. It’s been too long, little sis.”
I craned my neck to meet his gaze. “You’re right,” I agreed, snaking an arm around his waist and tucking myself under his arm, exactly like I’d done thousands of times over the years. “I’m happy to see you guys, really. I’m just…”
“Mad at Brent,” Logan supplied. “I get it. If it makes you feel better, I told him this was a bad idea, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Not when Mom got all excited about coming to visit.”
I knew he meant it. My brother understood me better than anyone. Growing up as close as we had meant we had some sort of twin sense about what the other was thinking and feeling, despite the fact that we weren’t actually twins.
As my heart rate came down from cardiac arrest levels, Sandra approached our group.
“I didn’t know Brent had invited more people,” she said skeptically. “Berkley, do you know them?”
I nodded and swallowed. “They’re my family.”
Sandra’s eyes widened as she gasped, and I quickly made introductions. By the time we headed out to the arena-style seats outside the suite, Sandra and my mom had become fast friends, chattering excitedly about all their common interests and things the ten of us could do now that Brent and I had brought our families together.
I took my seat, Lexie on one side and Kenzie on the other, as a local country singer belted out the words to “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
“This is a fucking nightmare,” I whispered to Lexie.
“I gotta say, Brent has done some stupid shit, but this absolutely takes the cake.”
“Logically, I know I shouldn’t even be mad. It’s sweet that he wanted my family here. But the way he went about it…Did he just conveniently forget our entire conversation after he surprised us with the Vegas trip? Had he heard a word of that? I swear we were both there. I wasn’t just talking to myself.”
Then again, we’d concluded the discussion by jumping into bed, and I’d never been able to think straight or remember my own name with Brent’s mouth between my legs. I imagined it was the same for him.
“The way he went about it was fucked up,” Lexie agreed. “Just…when you inevitably go after him about it later, try to take it easy on him. You know he was coming from a place of love.”
I exhaled deeply, trying to ease the tension in my shoulders. Leave it to Lexie to make me see reason when all I wanted to do was fly off the handle, because of course she was right. Brent did these things because he loved me. There was no ulterior motive here. He wasn’t trying to buy my love or use his wealth to guilt me into sticking around. It just rubbed me the wrong way, like he’d heard every word I said all those months ago, agreed with me only to get me off his back, and decided not to make a single concession for me.
I was getting tired of being the only one sacrificing in this relationship.
Crowd noise rose to a near-deafening pitch as the starters for the Warriors and their opponents, the Buffalo Regents, gathered at center ice.
I barely heard it over the sound of my warring thoughts.
Once the puck dropped, I got even more keyed up. Lexie, sensing my anxiety, settled a reassuring hand on my knee, and I offered her a tight but grateful smile.
The game pace was fast, and the Regents quickly put up two goals, making the score 2-0 after twenty minutes. Near the end of the first period, despite the fact that there was still a lot of game left to play, fans had taken to loudly booing the Warriors every time they touched the puck. I heaved a sigh of relief when they finally went down the tunnel for intermission.
Midway through the middle frame, the Warriors went on the power play. I had moved on from my first nervous habit of bouncing my knee to my second, and was all but chewing a hole through my lower lip. The power play included Mitch and Cole at the points, Brent near the faceoff circle to the left of the Regent’s goalie, Rat to the right, and Grey parked right in front of the net. After forty-five seconds into the man advantage, Mitch and Cole were playing keep-away with a Regents player. They finally passed it down to Rat, who kicked it out to Brent. Brent made a beautiful cross-ice pass that landed perfectly on Grey’s stick, who slapped it home, beating the goalie on his glove side.
But that single goal wasn’t enough. As the final seconds of the game ticked off the clock, the 2-1 score held up for the Regents, affording them a 1-0 series lead.
“It’s okay,” Ron said diplomatically. “Still plenty of chances to get it back. They’ll get them next time.”
I remained seated as Lexie, the Jeans, and my family made their way inside the suite for more refreshments.
Sometime later, Lexie came out and tapped me on the shoulder. “Your boy is here.”
I found Brent standing by the door. I loved and hated when he was like this: freshly showered, hair still wet and slicked back save that one stubborn piece that always curled onto his forehead. Loved it, because he was a fucking snack I wanted to unwrap and consume. Hated it, because we were surrounded by people and I couldn’t have my way with him—couldn’t distract him in the way only I could do, with my mouth and my body.
Tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights anyway. I wouldn’t kick a man while he was down, and I knew exactly how the evening would play out even without the talk I wanted to have with him.
Brent hunched, hugging his mother, his perfectly tailored suit jacket pulling tight across the broad muscles of his back. When he straightened, I saw the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone, his tie hanging loosely and crookedly around his neck. He turned his gaze to me, forlorn eyes begging me to make things better.
I ran into his arms, letting him squeeze me tight, crushing me against his chest like I was his lifeline.
He buried his face in my hair and said, “Well that sucked,” quietly in my ear.
Sliding my arms inside his suit jacket, I rubbed soothing circles on his back. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you were great,” his mom said, pulling us from our embrace.
“You’ll get ‘em next time, champ,” his dad told him, slugging him on the shoulder.
I could tell Kenzie wanted to hug him, but since he refused to let go of me, she settled for pecking him on the cheek. “Love you, Bee.”
“Love you, too, kiddo.”
Nate didn’t approach but merely gave Brent a look I couldn’t decipher and shrugged his shoulders. Brent seemed to understand, because he returned the gesture.
“So I see you’ve all met Berkley and Lexie.”
“They’re lovely,” Sandra assured him. “Although I can’t believe this is the first time we’re all meeting. So much wasted time! I’m glad the Daniels could make it down, though. That was sweet of you, Brent.”
“Shit,” Brent muttered under his breath, meeting my eyes. I let him see the displeasure simmering just beneath the surface but simply shook my head. Later, I told him silently. In truth, I’d cool off a lot over the course of the game, but we still needed to have a conversation.
“Jay Daniels,” my dad said, extending his hand to Brent. “Pleasure to finally meet you. You played a hell of a game. I’m sorry it didn’t go the way we’d hoped.”
Brent offered my dad a tight smile. “We’ll get ‘em next time,” he said, echoing his dad’s earlier words.
The rest of my family introduced themselves, and I was pleasantly surprised that Logan managed to keep his cool in the surreality of the evening.
Jessica, for her part, was more interested in striking up a friendship with Kenzie than meeting Brent, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest. Though both Logan and I had tried, we never managed to get Jessica to enjoy hockey or even care about the sport the way we did.
When conversations devolved into idle chit chat, I turned to Brent.
“Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes, I’m exhausted.” He gripped my hand and followed our families from the room.
As I hugged and kissed my family goodbye—they’d be leaving in the morning on yet another chartered flight—my irritation once again rose. I swallowed it down for the moment, letting my desire to take care of Brent override my anger.
But I knew bottling this up wouldn’t be good for either of us in the long run, and I had to talk to him about it sooner rather than later.
The quick ride to his condo was quiet. I drove, leaving Brent to his thoughts. But we were blessedly alone, which is what Brent preferred after a tough loss—something his family understood about him, and why they hadn’t pressed us to join them and my family for a late dinner. The Warriors played again in two days, so Sandra, Ron, and Kenzie would be staying in the city.
As heartbroken as I was for Brent, I was also sad for myself. I’d been a Warriors’ fan since birth, and the loss stung. But I didn’t allow myself to experience those emotions the way I normally would have before. This was much tougher on him than on me, and what he needed now was for me to be rock solid for him so he could take the evening to fall apart.
Then, tomorrow, he’d shake it off and go back to work like he always did.
At this point, I’d experienced enough losses with him that we moved through the apartment in silent, well-choreographed dance. I’d just reached for the hall light upon stepping inside when Brent came up behind me.
“Don’t turn them on,” he said, placing his hand over mine. “I just want to sit in the dark.”
“Bed or living room?”
“Bed.”
He took off his suit jacket and hung it on the knob of the hall closet, kicked off his shoes near the sideboard, and made his way down the hall to the living room.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked.
“Beer,” he said. Then quieter added, “Please.”
I grabbed one, removed the cap, and walked to the living room. Brent stood behind the couch, hands braced in front of him, staring blindly out the windows.
“Here, baby,” I whispered, trying not to startle him. He angled toward me and took the beer. Without a word, he stripped his tie and dropped it to the floor, then raised the bottle to his lips. I watched his throat move in the dark as he took several deep swallows, lowered it, and retreated to his room.
After picking up his tie, I followed, watching helplessly as he gripped the placket of his shirt and ripped it open. Buttons flew free, pinging against the walls and floor. That slip of control was the only outward sign he’d give that he was angry as well as sad. Kicking off his pants, he crawled into bed clad only in his boxers, beer firmly in hand. I opened the floor-to-ceiling curtains.
I rarely got to study the city from this vantage point. When the sun came up, it shone directly into the room, so the blackout curtains were almost always closed.
At night, the city glowed. Detroit wasn’t like New York or Paris or Tokyo or Vegas, full of sights and sounds not found anywhere else in the world. It was simply…Detroit. A city that, despite its reputation, was beautiful because of how hard it worked to overcome setbacks. Detroit was a blue-collar city, as was evident in the way it constantly built itself back up in the face of adversity. The lights sparkled on the river, and the buildings stood as a tall and strong reminder that this was a great city, that it would take care of itself.
Brent held out his arm, and I slid into bed and curled into his side. For a while, the room was silent, save our breathing and Brent sipping his beer.
“You okay?” I asked, tilting my head to meet his eyes, which glinted faintly from the lights outside.
“No,” he croaked. “But I will be.”
“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” I said, extricating myself before he could protest. “I’ll be right back.”
“I love you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I’m like this.”
Perched on the edge of the bed and about to stand, I reversed course until I straddled his lap. I cupped his face in my hands. Though he’d shaved that morning—the last time he’d do so until they lost out of the playoffs or won the Cup—thick stubble already shaded his cheeks and rasped against my palms.
“You don’t ever have to apologize to me for feeling the way you feel,” I said. “Tell me you understand that.”
Brent only nodded, and I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love every version of you, okay?”
“Okay, baby.”
After dropping a soft kiss to his mouth, I finally rose to take off my makeup, brush my teeth, and change. When I returned, he was sound asleep, snoring softly with his head lolled to the side, beer bottle barely remaining upright in his limp hand. I removed it and headed to the kitchen to dispose of it.
When I returned, I paused in the doorway, taking a second to study him. The planes of his face and chest were displayed in stark relief in the moonlight and city lights filtering through the window. In these moments, he appeared so much younger than his twenty-nine years, his face slack with sleep, the weight of the world shed from his shoulders.
Crawling under the sheets next to him, yet again wearing one of his t-shirts, I lifted his arm and pressed my body against his. Even in his sleep, he reached for me, shifting to accommodate me, tugging me so I was half sprawled over his body.
Safe in his embrace, I fully relaxed and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.