Page 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Brooks

I stare at my phone, the screen glowing in the dimly lit living room.

The reply is right there in black and white, and it feels like it’s staring back at me, taunting me . Pete’s. In two hours.

My hands are shaking. Whether it’s adrenaline or rage, I can’t tell. Tyler and Nick are sitting across the room, watching me like hawks.

“You’re not going alone,” Tyler says, breaking the silence.

I shake my head, my voice firm. “I have to. I don’t need this turning into a scene.”

Nick leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’re shaking like a damn leaf, Brooks. Go hit the bag for a bit. Get some of that tension out before you go.”

“Otherwise, you’re gonna kill them the second you see them,” Tyler adds, smirking slightly, though his eyes are serious.

I nod reluctantly, standing up and collecting my crutches. “Fine. I’ll be back in twenty.”

Down in the basement I flick on the overhead light, its hum filling the quiet space as I approach the sandbag hanging in the corner. The leather surface is scuffed and worn from years of use, but it’s sturdy, ready to take whatever I throw at it.

I square up, my fists clenched tightly, and deliver the first punch. The impact reverberates up my arm, the bag swinging slightly before settling. Another punch. Then another. Each strike is harder, more forceful than the last.

I had wondered if I could actually punch with any force with a brace on one leg, but turns out I’m not half bad, even with only one healthy knee.

The sound of my fists meeting the bag echoes in the room, a steady thwack, thwack, thwack .

Sweat beads on my forehead, dripping down the sides of my face as I lose myself in the rhythm. My knuckles throb against the firm surface, but I don’t stop. The bag swings wildly now, my kicks adding to the momentum, each strike carrying the weight of my frustration, my anger, my fear.

When I finally stop, my chest is heaving, my shirt soaked through with sweat. I brace my hands on my knees, staring down at the floor as I catch my breath. For a moment, the world feels a little quieter.

Back upstairs, I hobble straight for the shower. It’s grounding, but only just.

I towel off quickly, pulling on a pair of joggers and a black jacket. Something simple, unassuming. I wince as I adjust the huge leg brace on my bad leg. It’s not subtle, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

As I lace the boot I slipped onto my uninjured foot, Tyler leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

“We’re serious, Brooks. Let us come with you. You only have one good leg right now.”

I shake my head, grabbing my keys from the counter. “If Ally shows up while I’m gone, I want someone here to let her in. She’ll like seeing you guys.”

That finally shuts them up. Tyler nods reluctantly, and Nick claps me on the shoulder as I head for the door. “Be careful.”

The city lights blur past as I drive through downtown, the low rumble of the engine filling the silence. I’m grateful that my left knee was hurt so that I can still drive myself around.

The skyline looms overhead, a mix of glowing windows and dark shadows against the night sky. It’s beautiful, but I barely notice. My mind is elsewhere, replaying every possible scenario of how this could go down.

When I pull up outside Pete’s, the neon sign flickers against the weathered brick exterior.

The parking lot is half-full, and the muffled sound of music and conversation spills out into the cool night air as I step out of the car. The smell of cigarette smoke lingers near the entrance, mingling with the scent of spilled beer.

The bouncer nods at me as I approach, his eyes lingering for a second before he steps aside to let me in. My crutches thud softly against the floor as I make my way to the bar, my eyes scanning the room for any sign of the person I’m supposed to meet.

But no one stands out. No one’s looking at me or acting suspicious. The uncertainty makes my skin crawl, a prickling sensation running down my spine.

I sit at the bar, ordering a whiskey neat. The glass is cool in my hand, the sharp scent of alcohol rising as I take a sip. It burns on the way down, but it steadies my nerves, if only for a moment.

I hear a voice behind me, smooth and biting, slicing through the ambient chatter of the bar. “Looking for me, Brooks?”

I turn on instinct, and there she is: Tiffany.

Her dark hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, her lips curved into a smirk that only fuels the fire already burning in my chest. My hands clench into fists at my sides, the glass of whiskey suddenly icy against my palm.

“If you were a man,” I growl, my voice low and sharp, “I’d knock you out right here.”

A flicker of fear flashes across her face, but she recovers quickly, her smirk returning as she slides onto the barstool beside me. Her perfume wafts over, something floral and cloying that I immediately hate.

The bartender steps over, glancing between us like he can sense the tension.

“What can I get you?” she asks.

“Diet Coke with lime,” Tiffany replies, her tone nonchalant as if this is just another night out.

I snort, the sound involuntary as I take another sip of my whiskey. The sharp burn steadies me. The bartender nods and moves to prepare her drink, the clink of ice against glass breaking the silence between us.

“Meeting at a bar but no drink?” I ask, my tone harsh, nearly scolding. “What’s the point of meeting here?”

“It’s public,” she replies coolly, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I wasn’t about to meet you somewhere private where you could actually knock me out.”

I narrow my eyes, studying her carefully. Her smugness only irritates me further. “What do you want, Tiffany?”

Her smirk falters slightly, but she quickly regains her composure. “I want what I’m owed,” she says, her voice laced with indignation. “After being used and discarded by those twins of yours, only to be forgotten for the team doctor. Yeah, I think I deserve compensation.”

My jaw tightens, the tension building in my shoulders. “So this is about Nick and Tyler?” I ask, my voice low and sharp. “Why the hell am I involved in this?”

She stiffens, her eyes flashing with irritation. “Because I know how they are,” she snaps. “If I’d just gone after them, they’d brush me off like they do with every other girl they’ve screwed over. But you?” She leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re the calm one, the reasonable one. I knew putting you in the middle would get results.”

Her words twist something deep inside me, but I refuse to let her see it. “So, this whole thing, dragging Ally into it, emailing the coach, was just to make sure you got my attention?”

“Exactly,” she says, leaning back with a satisfied look. “I won’t be ignored, Brooks. And if I can’t have what I want, then I’ll use what I have to get something out of it.”

The weight of her words presses down on me, heavy and infuriating. She’s not just reckless; she’s vindictive, willing to blow up lots of people’s lives just to make herself feel better.

I pull my wallet out, slapping a stack of bills on the counter. The sum is painful, but it’s worth it to put an end to this. “Take it,” I say, my voice clipped. “But if you come near us again, I’ll make sure you regret it. I’ll call the cops, the league, hell, I’ll ruin you if you try this again.”

Tiffany sniffs, clearly trying to maintain her air of superiority. She picks up the money, slipping it into her purse with an almost practiced ease. “Fine,” she says, standing. “I’ll find somewhere else to hang out. Hockey players suck, anyway.”

Her words hang in the air as she walks away, her heels clicking against the floor. I don’t watch her go. I’m too busy staring at the empty glass in front of me, the scent of her perfume lingering like a bad memory.

The bartender comes over, her brow furrowed. “Everything all right?” she asks.

I nod, though the tightness in my chest tells me otherwise. “Yeah,” I mutter, waving off her offer to get me another drink.

As she walks away, I let out a slow breath, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. It’s done. But as much as I want to believe this is over, I can’t shake the feeling that the fallout has only just begun.

I drop a few bills on the bar, finishing my whiskey in a single, scalding gulp.

The bartender eyes me as she picks up the money, her gaze lingering with something unspoken. She knows.

Maybe she overheard enough to piece together what just happened, or maybe she’s just that perceptive. Either way, she doesn’t say anything, only murmuring a quiet, “Thanks for the tip,” as she turns away.

The scent of old wood and spilled beer clings to the air as I push the door open and step out into the crisp night. Sliding awkwardly into my driver’s seat, I shut the truck door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the empty lot.

I pull my phone from my pocket and stare at the blank screen.

What do I even say? The silence in the vehicle feels suffocating. With a deep breath, I unlock my phone and open the group chat.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard before I type.

It’s all taken care of now. We won’t hear from Tiffany anymore.

I hit send and lean back, exhaling. The screen lights up almost immediately as messages start to flood in.

Wait… it was Tiffany?!

Nick replies first, his disbelief clear even through the text.

Tyler’s response follows just seconds later.

What the hell?

I stare at their words, the knot in my chest tightening.

Of course, they’re horrified. Hell, I am too.

But before I can type a reply, Ally’s message pops up.

Fine.

The word feels cold, distant, a stab to the gut. A moment later, she sends more.

I don’t know what you did, but I still think I might resign and move.

My stomach churns as I read her words, the weight of them pressing down on me. Nick and Tyler are already typing again, their messages popping up one after another.

Tyler pleading text pops up.

Don’t do that!

Then Nick’s.

We’ll stand by you, no matter what happens.

I type quickly, trying to reinforce their words.

Tiffany promised to keep quiet, Ally. You don’t have to go anywhere.

But her reply stings worse than silence.

She’s probably lying, Brooks. I deserve this. I’ve been so irresponsible.

We keep typing, trying to reassure her, to talk about the baby, to convince her that this isn’t the end. But one by one, our messages go unanswered.

The chat feels emptier than ever.

I toss my phone onto the passenger seat, my frustration boiling over.

The unanswered texts glare back at me from the screen. Ally’s silence is like a gaping void, and it’s eating me alive. I slam my fists against the steering wheel, the dull thud reverberating through the cabin.

The drive home is a blur of streetlights and darkened roads. My thoughts spiral, looping through every possible scenario.

What if she quits? What if she moves? What if she disappears entirely?

When I finally pull into the driveway, I don’t even bother cutting the engine right away. After a long moment, I shut off the truck, and I get out, the night air sharp and bracing against my heated skin.

Inside, Nick and Tyler are pacing the living room. The soft lights cast long shadows across their tense faces. Tyler is the first to speak, his voice tight with frustration. “She’s not answering, is she?”

I shake my head, my jaw clenched. “Nothing. Straight to voicemail.”

Nick runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. “We screwed this up, didn’t we?”

I look between them, their worry mirroring my own. “I have an idea,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. “But I need to know you’re both on board.”

Nick and Tyler exchange a glance, their faces etched with concern. “What’s the plan?” Nick asks cautiously, his voice soft but resolute.

I take a deep breath, the weight of my idea pressing down on me. “We need to show her that she’s not alone in this. That we’re all in this together.”

Tyler frowns, crossing his arms. “And how exactly are we supposed to do that?”

“I’ll explain,” I say, my tone firm, “but this isn’t just about words anymore. We need to prove it. Actions speak louder.”

Nick nods slowly, his brow furrowed. “All right, Brooks. We trust you.”

Tyler hesitates for a moment before sighing. “Yeah, okay. Whatever it takes.”

Their agreement eases a fraction of the tension in my chest, but it doesn’t erase the uncertainty.

Ally’s hurting, scared, and shutting us out.

But I’ll be damned if I let her carry this burden alone.