Chapter 36 Drew
Drew
"Wait, what are you doing here?" Brooke slowly slinks toward me as I round the front of my bike to meet her.
Grabbing her shoulders, I give her a once over. "Are you okay?" I ask, my voice full of concern.
"Drew, don't you have a game like..." She wedges her wrist between our chests to check her nonexistent watch. "Now?"
Sliding my hands behind her ears, I cradle her cheeks in my palms. "Brooke," I say sternly. Her eyes snap to mine. "Are you okay?"
She shakes her head and swallows hard. "Yeah, my aunt, she… fell. She has some stuff going on, but she's going to be okay, I think. And I'm… um..." Tugging her toward me, I wrap my arms around her and hug her tight. "Fine," she finishes through a breath.
Her body is rigid against mine, all of my fear about how she'd take the rumors resurfacing and pushing through the concern. "You saw them didn't you?"
"Saw what?"
My jaw grows tight as I pull back and look at her deeply. "The headlines."
Her lips part as she shakes her head. "Yeah, Drew. It's fine. We knew this might not go anywhere and—"
"What? No," I cut her off, my pulse pounding. "Don't do that."
"I'm just saying," she tries again, her voice weak. "I know this is a lot—you're making changes, I'm making changes. Maybe the two just don't… mesh."
My stomach drops, an intensity building in its place. "Are you serious?" I shoot out, the pain and frustration twisting my words before I can stop them.
Brooke's eyes go wide, then her brow furrows. "Well, I just mean… I thought that..." She drops her head into her hands and continues speaking, her voice muffled by her palms. "Fuck, I'm messing this up."
I stand frozen, forehead creased, trying to make sense of what's happening. I thought I was the one screwing with this—the one ruining everything we've built.
I pull her hands away from her face, lowering myself to meet her eyes. "Talk to me," I say, my voice calmer now.
Brooke raises her head slowly, her shoulders sunken. "I promised my mom that I wouldn't just write this off because it was easier."
"Easier than fighting for it?"
"No," she whispers, huffing out a laugh under her breath. "Than losing it."
I exhale, my chest caving under the weight—or maybe the relief. "Brooke," I say, inching closer. "I'm not leaving."
She stands taller, her eyes darting between mine. "You're not?"
"No." I shake my head slowly. "I never was."
"I read the article, and—"
"It's all bullshit, Brooke," I explain, taking both of her hands in mine. "You have to know that. Hell, you would know better than anyone that what those people say about me isn't true. It was fucking Jane," I scoff. "Can you believe it? Her little tantrum, I guess because of me going rogue."
"For not dating the troll," she adds with a nod. A smile slips past her lips, and it radiates through me like goddamn lightning.
"Maybe," I chuckle. Her face tightens again, and I rush back in.
"I handled it, baby," I continue. "I told you I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not.
I called my agent before I even left the arena.
The papers are already drawn up and with my lawyer.
They're all but signed, Brooke. I'm staying in G.C. "
She goes to speak, but I cut her off.
Because I know her.
"I'm not just doing this for you either," I add.
"This is my home. My team. My city. My friends are here.
My mom is here. And yea..." I tug on her wrist, pulling her just a bit closer.
"You're here too, and that means everything to me.
But, honestly, this is about my life, Brooke, and for once, I'm taking charge of it. "
Her shoulders relax for the first time since I've gotten here, and looking into her chocolate eyes, I see her again. My not so mysterious girl.
"God, I was so sure yesterday," she says, glancing down at her feet. "About us. About everything. But then I saw the article, and the accident happened with my aunt, and… I want this, Drew, I do. That's the point. But apparently I have no clue what the hell I'm doing."
"And you think I do?" I ask through a sigh, tucking a hair behind her ear. "There's a reason you're the only person I've let see this version of me—the real me."
She sucks in a breath, and her hand slips around my waist almost instinctively. "I don't want the giant scissors anymore," she mumbles, leaning her head against my chest.
I laugh, and the rumble moves through both of us. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"
Brooke stands up and loops her arms around my neck.
She runs her fingers underneath the cool metal of my chain and brushes gently.
"You don't really need to." Her amusement is swallowed by a breath that catches in her throat.
"Just know I definitely like you, Twelve.
And it feels good." Her eyes glaze over, but her lips turn up. "Really good."
The final weight that sits on my shoulders disappears as she strokes the back of my neck with her thumb. I drop my forehead to hers, eyes closing, lungs filling, words pouring out before I can overthink them. "You have no idea what it feels like to be falling in love with you, Mystery Girl."
Brooke gasps softly, but I pull her in tight before she can respond.
I don't need her reaction. I don't want it right now.
I just want her—us.
Like this.
I've gained a lot of things in these last seven years—money, fame, notoriety.
Cars, bikes, brand deals worth more than both of those combined.
But I lost myself along the way. When I think about my time as a rookie—an eighteen year old just getting his start, the one willing to do whatever it takes, whatever he's told—I want to scream at him not to worry about the noise.
I want to tell him that winning the hearts of a million fans isn't worth anything if you don't love yourself.
I want to stand behind him and whisper in his ear every time he forces himself to attend the party, do the dance, or take the date.
Remind him that at the very least, he should find someone to hold on to throughout the chaos.
Someone who will be there for him despite it all.
Who will trust him no matter what the world says.
Because that—this—is all that really matters.
Picking up my head, I look into her eyes. She stares back expectantly, like she's asking for guidance on what to say next. But she doesn't need to say anything.
The fact that she's still here says it all.
"So, are you officially done with the Flames then?" I ask, suddenly needing the answer.
Brooke lets her eyes wander, then shrugs. "I guess, yeah. I already scheduled posts through the weekend, and the new girl starts Monday."
I nod, and both of us look at each other knowingly. "Alright then," I say vaguely, a smirk on my face.
After a few quiet seconds, she asks, "Are you going back to finish the game?"
A dull throb of guilt pangs in my stomach that I know I have to deal with. "Nah, it'll be all but over by the time I get back. And they would have already scratched me anyway."
She cocks a brow, then glances behind me at my bike. "You wanna get out of here then? Maybe pull over on the side of the road somewhere?"
I nibble my bottom lip. "Fuck yeah, I do." Brooke giggles, and the sound makes it so I almost don't finish my thought.
But I have to.
"But can I take a rain check? I should probably get back so I can talk to the boys after the horn. Explain myself at least for bailing. And for the rest of it."
Sliding her hand past my cheek, she nods. "Sure. How about I meet you at the rink in a few hours, and you can give me a ride? Maybe get a little handsy on the way home."
A growl slips from my throat as I shake my head. "How many times have I told you not to play with me, Mystery Girl?"
She moves so that her mouth is only inches from mine. "Apparently not enough."
I crash my lips to hers before pulling back. "Then it's a good thing we've got nothing but time."
"Thanks for hanging back, guys."
"Yeah, no worries, Cap. Everything okay?" Burnsey asks.
He's sitting with Ward and Petrov on the couch in the lounge, his hair still wet from the shower. I asked the three of them to meet me after they were done getting changed. I have a lot to explain that I don't really want to, but they deserve to hear it all.
"Yeah," I answer. "For the most part. I just wanted to apologize for today.
For not being there. And for all the shit that's come with these last couple games.
" I clear my throat as I search the boys' faces, all of them sterner than I expected.
"I figured it was best to start with my A's and my goalie. "
"What's been going on, man?" Ward asks.
"Yeah," Brett says. "Talk to us, bud."
I inhale deeply, waiting for Alexei to join in. Instead, he leans back on the couch and crosses his arms.
"Well, it's been a long time coming, but I'm just so done with all of the showman shit. The elaborate celebrations, the risky puck handling, the cocky attitude that no one asked for."
Burns chuckles. "But that's just you, Cap. We know it's not meant to be anything serious."
"Yeah," Ward adds. "As long as you keep the puck down ice, I don't really give a shit how you perform." He smiles nonchalantly and looks at Petrov. Again, my assistant captain doesn't speak.
"I get that," I say. "But I'm done with it. It's not me—it never was. I got wrapped up in it all when I was a rookie—the parties, the trips, the girls, the attitude. But I don't want any of it anymore." I sigh as I lean my forearms on my knees. "I just want to play the game I used to fucking love."
Ward nods. Brett shrugs. And Petrov creases his brow just slightly. The three of them speak all at the same time.
"That makes sense."
"You do you then, Cap. No worries."
"So, what changed?"
Petrov's deep voice cuts through the others, his question coming out as a command to answer.
"Before or now?"
He sits up again, placing his hands in his lap. "Both."
Now I sit back, rubbing my chin between my first two fingers. "Before?" I repeat tentatively. "My mom died and..."
My mind goes back to my conversation earlier with my dad. Normally, I would put this all on him—blame him for steering me wrong. But I get it now. Brett was right. We were all just doing the best we could with a grief that no one is ever prepared for.
"And my dad and I both did what we had to do to survive it."
Brett's eyebrows lift, and so do the corners of his lips.
"But that ended with both of us fully diving into the game—with doing whatever it'd take for me to rewrite my future, on and off the ice. And now? Now I'm just realizing that I don't need that to feel alive anymore—I don't want it. I have the team and you guys and..." My voice fades away.
"And who, Cap?" Brett pushes.
I move my gaze to see him smiling from ear to ear. "And my girl," I say confidently.
He drapes his arm across the cushion and throws me a wink. Carter looks at Petrov, but he doesn't react.
"But that's no excuse for how I've gone about it. I should have kept you guys in the loop. Hell, I should have done that a long time ago. But I guess I was afraid that I'd lose you too. Or just afraid of admitting that I lost myself."
Burnsey and Ward both nod in understanding as a silence falls between us. I think that might be the end of it when Alexei chimes back in.
"You are man before player. You must take care of your heart and your mind before you can carry the team."
The three of us all go wide-eyed, glancing back and forth between him and each other.
"Wow, Stormy," Brett says in shock.
Ward shrugs simply. "What he said."
His statement replays in my head a few times before I finally add my thoughts. "I think that might be the most words I've ever heard you string together, Storm." He sucks his teeth, and I laugh before my face grows as serious as my next few words. "But thank you."
"And there's no truth to the rumors?" Brett asks quickly, his voice hopeful.
"None. In fact, I signed my contract for next year before you guys got here. Scott just left."
Ward and Brett both grin, Burnsey reaching his fist out to me. I meet it with mine, and I swear I see the faintest of smiles from Petrov as I do.
"So, uh, what happened today, then?" Carter asks, sitting forward.
I blow a breath through my lips. "Yeah, so… that's where the girl comes in."
"Wait," Ward says, his hands in front of him. "Who's this girl?"
Brett looks at me, and I feel my cheeks flush.
They all wait in suspense as I work up the courage to finally say it aloud.
So far, Brooke and I have lived in a bubble away from the rest of the world.
A bubble where, if I'm honest, part of me would like to stay.
But I also know that a girl like her—a relationship like ours—deserves to be seen from the suites, shouted through the speakers, and witnessed by everyone in Golden City.
"It's Brooke."
"InstaBrooke?" Carter asks, unconvinced.
My forehead creases like it always does when I hear the nickname. "Where the hell did that name even—nevermind. Yes, InstaBrooke," I mock.
Ward scoffs, his lips parted. For a moment I think he doesn't approve—not that I'd give one fuck if he didn't. But I finally feel like I'm getting my life back, and I never even considered that she might not fit into it.
"How the hell did you score InstaBrooke?" he finally asks. I huff out a laugh as I lean back on the couch. Carter stares at the carpet before he continues. "InstaBrooke," he repeats. "Damn, I bet that girl is a freak in the..."
Petrov and I both shoot forward, not a hint of amusement on either of our faces. Carter holds his hands up in defense, and I turn to Storm and tip my chin down in gratitude.
"Anyway..." Brett chimes in. "So, are you guys like… I don't know. Official?"
I roll my eyes, but my stomach swirls, nerves and excitement both mixing together. "Actually..." I draw out, almost embarrassed to continue. "I was hoping you guys could help me out with that."
The boys all look at each other, and I hold my breath for the teasing to come.
But it doesn't.
"Hell yeah!" Brett yells without question.
"I'm in," Ward says.
Petrov cocks a brow and points a finger at his chest. "Me?"
I nod, laughing and shaking my head. I can't believe I'm about to do this, but for Brooke, I'd do anything. "Yeah, Storm," I say, scratching the back of my head. "For what I have in mind, I'll definitely need you."