Chapter 24 Drew #2
"But you can be with me. I'm not even sure why I seem to be able to talk to you about shit literally no one else knows, but I clearly do. And fuck, it feels good. It feels like… like how I'm supposed to be. Which I guess is the whole point."
She responds by glancing at me and smiling with only her eyes. I narrow mine and reach forward, grabbing her by the waist and sliding her into my lap.
"Hey," I say, peering up at her. "I told you, I want this.
I want us." I brush a loose hair behind her ear and search her gaze for understanding.
"It won't be that simple out there. It's gonna take a little time and a whole lot of bullshit.
But here with you, it's pretty damn easy.
And that's what will help with the other stuff.
You just have to let me in. Let me be this for you. Even if you are my mystery girl."
She arches her brow, dropping her hands around my neck. "You keep doin' that thing with your tongue—"
"Brooke, I'm serious."
She lets her lids fall shut with acceptance, before lifting them again. "Okay, okay, I know. You're right." I look at her smugly, and she rolls her eyes. "You're wise beyond your years, Twelve."
I consider pushing her. Asking her questions or forcing the issue so that she'll at least tell me how she feels about us.
But I know better than anyone that just because you don't talk about a feeling, doesn't mean it's missing.
So instead, I keep it simple, reminding myself that she's hiding it because it's there.
And because it's big. Intense. Deeper than she probably ever expected.
"And you're scared I'm too young," I joke with a shake of my head.
Brooke visibly settles, pulling herself closer to me. "I mean, I don't know if I'm scared."
"You're scared."
She tilts her head sideways and looks at the ceiling. "Eh, hesitant maybe."
"Terrified."
"Skeptical."
"Straight up panicked." I plant a kiss on the side of her throat, and she opens up for me. "But I told you, you're worried for nothing."
"Let me guess," she starts, her words vibrating against my lips. "Your favorite cliché… actions speak louder than words."
"Exactly."
"Well…" She digs her fingertips into my shoulder muscles as I continue pecking up her neck. "There's still plenty of time to prove me right."
I pause my lips, hovering right next to her cheek. "Don't bank on that, Mystery Girl," I whisper, nipping her ear as my warm breath floats past her skin. "I've built a whole career on being pretty damn convincing."
Brooke hums, resisting every urge I know she has to simply submit. "We'll see."
I slide my hand under the flimsy material of her shorts to where I know she's naked underneath. "Yeah, baby," I say, brushing the pad of my finger past her middle. "You definitely will."
I'm dragging a little this morning, the lack of proper recovery from my game not quite mixing well with mine and Brooke's long night.
We didn't go to bed late—she had a meeting with Sadie, our community relations director, this morning—but by the time we were finally finished with each other and got back to her car, I could have slept for much longer than I was able to.
But my alarm rang at my regular hour, and as much as I'd love to take a day off, that's just not a luxury I have. Plus, I haven't been able to visit Mom all week thanks to my away games, so there's no way I'm missing this morning's run.
I've got a lot to catch her up on.
Approaching my mom's site, I swear I see the silhouette of someone kneeling by her tombstone. I wipe sweat from my eyes, assuming it's my mind playing tricks on me, but as I get closer, I know I'm wrong. It's not a trick. But still a joke.
"Dad?" I rip my headphones from my ears and shove them into my pocket. "What are you doing here?"
"You left so quickly yesterday, and you aren't taking my calls. I figured this might be the only way to talk to you."
I take a deep breath, my head lolling backward as I set my palms on my hips. "How did you even know I'd be here?"
Dad rests his hands behind his back. "It's sort of my job to know this stuff, Drew."
"You do know you're not my manager, right? I pay someone else to do that."
He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "You do know I'm still your dad, right? And since you went dark on me, I've had to stoop to chasing you down—showing up outside of the locker room and at your mother's grave for Christ's sake."
"Yeah, God forbid you come on your own," I mumble under my breath, making a mental note to remind my people who they work for. "I told you I just need some space."
Dad hangs his head as if I'm the one causing him grief. "Well, did you at least give some thought to what I said?"
"Dad, no!" I yell at a volume that's definitely not cemetery etiquette. My frustration over his relentlessness these past few weeks, finally rips through me. "I'm not leaving the Flames."
He tilts his chin down calmly and raises a finger. "I didn't say leave necessarily. I told you to keep your options open."
I shake my head at his technicality. "Well, I'm not doing that either."
Dad takes one step closer to me, his hands up in surrender. "I just think you're missing out on an opportunity to make more money. To lead another franchise to a Cup. To be a bigger fish in a smaller pond. Golden City's organization is grow—"
"A bigger fish? Dad, are you serious?" I ask, interrupting him. "My God, you don't fucking get it. I don't want to be a bigger fish. I barely want to be a fish anymore. All this shit—the on-ice antics, the media, the headlines, the paparazzi—it's too much."
"Drew, this is what we built."
"We? You're kidding me, right? We didn't build—no. No, you know what?" Now it's me who holds my hands up, only not in surrender—in finality. "I'm not doing this. Not here."
Dad attempts to close the gap between us again, but I counter his movement, stepping back once more. "Listen, son, I don't want to fight with you," he says, his voice defeated. "I just want you to have what's best. Everything you're capable of. Everything you deserve."
I contemplate jumping in—telling him that I don't want any of what he thinks I deserve. But it's not worth my breath. It'll never get through. "Just consider not signing your contract until the end of the season and see what offers come in."
I glance at my mom's tombstone, wishing more than anything that she was here to jump in and defend me. But she's not. She's gone. And this is all that I have left of her. "Yeah, Dad, sure," I agree, knowing damn well that despite how good starting over may feel, I'm not going anywhere.
He strides over to me with a closed-lip smile and places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. "Thank you, son."
He continues moving past me, his footsteps growing fainter as he walks away.
"Hey Dad," I call to him without looking back. When the crunching of the grass under his shoes stops completely, I finally turn to face him. "You know you can come here other than to trap me, right?"
He looks at me blankly, his expression unchanging, until he offers me that same hesitant smile from before. He goes on his way at the same time that my phone rings, Jane's name flashing across my screen.
"Holy shit," I say to myself, rubbing my forehead with the palm of my hand. I silence my phone and sit down in my usual spot, ignoring the world and turning my attention to one of the only two people lately that I find myself running to instead of from.