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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Nick

I roll over in bed, groggy and disoriented.

The room is dark, the heavy blinds doing their job of keeping out any sliver of moonlight. My body feels sluggish, and for a second, I can’t figure out why I’m awake.

My mind scrambles, half-dreaming, half-conscious. Did I hear something?

Then it hits me the shrill ringtone slicing through the quiet. My phone. I grope blindly for it on the nightstand, my fingers brushing against the smooth edge of the screen.

The brightness stabs at my eyes as I squint to read the name glowing on the screen: Brooks .

“Why is he calling me at this hour?” I mutter, fumbling to answer. My voice comes out hoarse as I croak, “Hello?”

“Nick, you home?” Brooks’ voice is sharp, a little strained, like he’s been holding something back.

“Yeah, I’m home. Where else would I be at…” I squint at the clock on the screen, “five in the morning?”

“This is important,” Brooks says, ignoring my sarcasm. “I need to talk to you.”

I groan, sitting up and letting my feet hit the cold wooden floor. The sudden chill jolts me further awake. “Well, it better be important. Do you know what time it is?”

Brooks doesn’t reply. Instead, he just says, “I’ll be there soon,” and the line goes dead.

I stare at the phone, the little screen now dark, and mutter, “Dramatic much, Brooks?” The weight of his tone sticks with me, though, and I toss the phone onto the bed.

My gut tells me this isn’t just about practice or some locker room issue.

I shuffle toward the bathroom, flicking on the light. I catch my reflection in the mirror, dark circles under my eyes, hair sticking up at odd angles, and sigh.

What’s Brooks so worked up about that he’d call at this hour?

The hot water streams over me and I try to focus on it hitting my skin, but my mind keeps wandering.

Is this about Ally? It has to be, doesn’t it? I can’t think of anything else that would have Brooks calling me like this.

I miss her, miss her laugh, the way she looks at me when I’m being a smart-ass, even the way she pretends not to notice when I’m staring at her.

But what if something’s wrong? What if this whole thing between the four of us is unraveling? The thought makes my stomach churn. I rinse off quickly, trying to shake the anxiety that’s clawing its way up my throat.

Freshly showered and dressed, I head toward the kitchen.

Tyler’s already there, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand. He’s dressed casually in sweatpants and a T-shirt, his hair still mussed from sleep. He raises an eyebrow when he sees me.

“Let me guess,” he says, his voice low but amused. “You got the same call?”

I nod, my lips pressing into a thin line. “Brooks?”

“Brooks,” he confirms, taking a slow sip of coffee. The mug clinks softly as he sets it back on the counter. “He sounded...weird. Scared, even.”

I grab a mug from the cabinet, filling it with the steaming coffee Tyler’s made.

We exchange a glance, the nervous tension between us unspoken but palpable. “You think it’s about Ally?” I finally ask, breaking the silence.

Tyler shrugs, but his expression tightens. “If it is, we’re all in deep shit.”

I can only nod, staring down into my coffee. Whatever Brooks has to say, it’s clear it’s going to be something big.

Tyler leans back against the counter, his mug dangling from his fingers as he stares into space. “What could she be thinking?” he mutters, his brows furrowed.

“Probably scared,” I reply, swirling the coffee in my mug. The aroma wafts up, sharp and comforting, but it does little to settle the knot in my stomach. “You know…cold feet about everything.”

Tyler snorts softly, tilting his head to look at me. “Cold feet? Nick, it’s not every job where you end up in a four-way with your coworkers. She’s probably terrified someone’s going to figure it out.”

I nod slowly, the thought settling over me like a heavy weight. “Her reputation’s on the line. She’s smart, she probably can’t stop thinking about what it all could cost her.”

The silence stretches between us. The weight of what we’re saying sinks deeper.

We’re both on edge, guessing at the worst possible scenarios.

When the door opens and Brooks hobbles inside, the tension snaps like a taut string. Tyler and I straighten, setting down our mugs as Brooks crutches his way into the kitchen, mumbling curses under his breath at his lack of mobility.

“What’s going on?” Tyler asks immediately, stepping closer to Brooks. I can feel my pulse pick up as I follow. “Is it about Ally?”

Brooks nods, his expression unreadable. His usually sharp eyes seem clouded, his mouth set in a grim line. Tyler and I exchange a glance before launching into rapid-fire questions.

“Is she over us?”

“Does she hate us?”

“Is she calling the whole thing off?” I ask, my words tripping over themselves as they rush out.

Brooks raises a hand, silencing us both. “It’s none of that,” he says, his voice low but steady.

The relief is brief, a flicker that’s extinguished by what he says next.

“She’s pregnant.”

The words hit like a freight train. I blink, my mind racing to catch up with what he’s just said. Tyler freezes beside me, his mouth slightly open as if he’s about to say something but can’t quite form the words.

“Pregnant?” I finally echo, my voice barely above a whisper. My heart thunders in my chest. “Are…are you sure? When did she tell you this?”

Brooks nods, his shoulders sagging slightly as if saying it out loud takes the weight off him just a little. “She told me at the hospital the other night. She doesn’t know whose it is.”

Tyler lets out a low whistle, finally breaking his silence. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “That’s…a lot. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He sighs, his grip on the counter tightening. The air feels heavy, and for once, even Tyler seems at a loss for what to say.

“I just…” he starts to say. “I just felt like it would change things, and I wasn’t sure if you two would even want to know. Which is shitty of me, I realized that as I was driving around this morning, trying to get up the nerve to tell you guys.”

“That is pretty crappy that you’d think we wouldn’t step up for her and the baby,” I say, hurt clear in my voice.

He nods, looking wretched. “I know. I’m sorry.”

The three of us are still standing there in stunned silence when a simultaneous chime rings out, breaking the moment. Tyler and I both grab for our phones instinctively, the sharp buzz vibrating in my hand as I glance at the screen.

“An email?” Tyler asks, frowning as he unlocks his phone.

“Yeah,” I murmur, my brows knitting together as I open the message. The subject line is blank, but the contents are far from empty. My stomach drops as the photos load.

It’s us. All of us. In the hallways of the rink, at Surf’s Up, even in the parking lot after practice.

The pictures aren’t overtly damning, no one’s kissing or doing anything explicitly inappropriate, but the way we’re standing, the way we’re looking at each other, it’s clear we’re more than just colleagues.

In one shot, I’ve got my hand on Ally’s shoulder, Tyler’s standing close enough that their arms are brushing, and Brooks is gazing at her like she’s the only person in the room. The intimacy in the images is unmistakable.

“Shit,” Tyler mutters, scrolling through the pictures. “These look bad. Really bad.”

I keep staring at the screen, my heart pounding.

Below the images is a single line of text: What would you do to make sure no one else knows?

Brooks’ phone clatters onto the counter, his jaw tight as he glares at the screen like he’s about to throw it against the wall. His hands curl into fists at his sides, the tension radiating off him like heat.

“Ally’s in the email thread,” Tyler says, his voice quieter now, but still laced with alarm. He scrolls back up, confirming it. “She’s been CC’d.”

Before either of us can react, Brooks’ phone starts buzzing loudly against the counter, the vibrations cutting through the heavy silence. We all look down at it at the same time.

Ally’s name flashes across the screen.

Brooks doesn’t answer right away. He stares at the phone, his face a mix of anger and hesitation. Tyler glances at me, his eyebrows raised. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

Brooks doesn’t respond, his gaze locked on the screen. The phone buzzes again, persistently, as if Ally herself is calling out to him through it.

The tension in the room is suffocating, the sound of the buzzing phone like a clock ticking down to an explosion.

All I can do is wait, the knot in my stomach tightening with every passing second. The phone call connects, and Brooks taps the speaker button. Ally’s voice floods the room, trembling and panicked.

“Did you guys see it?” she blurts out, her words tumbling over one another. “The email? What am I going to do? I’m going to have to resign. This will ruin me. I have a baby to take care of. What am I supposed to do?”

My stomach twists painfully at her words. The despair in her voice is gut-wrenching. Tyler and I exchange a worried glance, both of us frozen, unsure of how to respond.

Brooks, however, stays calm. His voice is steady as he says, “Ally, you’re not going to resign. We’ll figure this out.”

“But how?” she cries. “Did you see who else is on the email thread? Coach Walker. No one else, but still. He’s going to fire me. I know it.”

Brooks leans forward, his elbows resting on the counter. “You need to talk to Coach tomorrow,” he says firmly. “Explain the situation before he jumps to conclusions. As for the person behind this, I’ll handle it.”

“Don’t,” Ally pleads. “Please, don’t do anything. I need time to think about this.”

There’s a pause. Brooks hesitates before saying, “All right. I won’t do anything for now.”

The call ends, and the silence that follows feels suffocating. Tyler and I hold our breaths, waiting for what happens next.

The moment Brooks sets the phone down, Tyler and I spring into action.

“You can’t just sit back and let her figure this out on her own!” Tyler exclaims, his voice rising with urgency.

“She’s panicking, Brooks,” I add, my words spilling out fast. “This isn’t something she can handle by herself. We need to step in.”

Brooks runs a hand over his face, the lines of exhaustion etched deep into his features. “I’m not going to ignore it,” he snaps, his tone sharp enough to silence us for a moment. “But Ally said she needs time. I can’t just bulldoze over what she wants.”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Tyler counters, crossing his arms. “But she’s scared out of her mind. We can’t let her drown in this.”

I nod in agreement, my chest tightening with frustration. “We got her into this mess, Brooks. It’s not just her problem, it’s ours too.”

Brooks slams his hand down on the counter, making the coffee mugs rattle. “It’s always up to me to fix everything, isn’t it?” His voice is loud, brimming with frustration. “I’m the one who has to figure out the money, the fallout, everything.”

Tyler and I step back, startled by the outburst, but we quickly recover.

“We don’t want you to do this alone,” Tyler says, his voice softer now. “We want to help. Just let us.”

“Exactly,” I add, taking a step closer. “We’re in this together, Brooks. Don’t shut us out.”

Brooks stares at us for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing. He exhales deeply, his posture relaxing just a fraction. “All right,” he says gruffly. “Let’s look at the email again.”

We all crowd around his phone, scanning the message with renewed focus. The sender’s demand is clear: money in exchange for silence.

Brooks straightens up, a determined look settling on his face. “I’ll deal with the money. I can handle it.”

“Brooks—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off.

“It’s fine,” he says firmly. “I’m not hurting for cash, and this needs to be handled quickly.”

I glance at Tyler, who looks just as uneasy as I feel, but neither of us argues further. Brooks types out a reply, the soft taps of his fingers against the screen the only sound in the room. When he’s done, he sets the phone down, his expression unreadable.

A moment later, my phone buzzes.

Tyler’s does the same.

We both pull them out and see the email thread updated. Brooks’ response is short and chillingly direct: Fine. Meet me tonight at Pete’s at 7.

Pete’s. The dingy dive bar on the outskirts of the city. It’s the kind of place where shady deals could go unnoticed.

Tyler whistles low, glancing at Brooks. “You sure about this?”

Brooks doesn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the phone. “I’ll handle it,” he says quietly. “Just…trust me.”