Page 32

Brooke

The next evening, we sit watching the Huntington Wolves with Gunnar’s parents behind us, with Sasha.

We watch the other team's centre as he rears back with a slapshot, slicing straight toward the net.

Bear drops low in a flash, pads wide, eyes locked on the puck as it hurtles toward him. He tracks the shot in, and with a sharp thud against his glove, he catches it.

The crowd cheers, and he just rises calmly, flipping the puck out of his glove and tossing it to the ref like it hadn’t just come in hard enough to bruise.

No rebound. No chance.

Bear is a stone wall in that net.

“Go Bear,” Cami shouts through her cupped hands as I look back down at my phone, replying to emails about the most recent Drop. She turns to me and tries to grab my phone for the not the first time. “Do you have to do that now?”

“I’m signing off tomorrow, so yeah, I do.” I laugh, moving my phone out of her reach.

I jump suddenly at someone being slammed into the glass in front of us, and laugh as Adam waves as he skates past, obviously responsible for the hit.

“He will end up in the penalty box!” Mrs C tuts as Mr C shouts, “Atta boy, Adam.”

“I much prefer how Gunnar plays hockey,” Sasha says primly. “He doesn’t go hitting people randomly.”

“He’s a right-winger. It’s a forward position.” I roll my eyes at her. “It's different from Adam’s defence.”

“I’m so proud.” Cami hugs me from the side. “Can you believe Brooke had never watched a hockey game before September, Mr C?”

“Could have fooled me, kid.” He holds his hands up for a high five, and my heart lights up for a second. I return it and Mrs C pats me on the back, saying Well done.

“Excuse me for a second,” I say, getting up before they notice the tears collecting in my eyes.

Hurrying up the steps to the lobby and concession stand area, I lean against the wall.

When Mr and Mrs C praised me. I instantly missed my dad and yearned for a mom who cares enough to pat me on the back for something as silly as knowing a hockey position.

I play with the ends of my hair and take deep breaths, trying to calm down; holidays were always hard without Dad anyway, but now, without my mom too…

We never had a traditional Thanksgiving; we always went to the country club or a restaurant.

But now, after hearing Sasha call me homeless, even though I know she’s wrong and I have a home at the apartment with Cami, I feel like I have nowhere to go home to anymore. What am I going to do after college?

Taking one last deep breath, I check the time on my phone, not wanting to miss too much of the game. I move to head back into the stands when my phone rings, and my mom’s name lights it up. I pause, eyes wide for a second. She hasn’t called since I hung up on her in September.

I answer without giving myself too much time to think and lift the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I say tentatively.

“Brooke.” I hear my mom sigh. “How are you?”

I pull my phone back and stare at it for a second, having expected her to yell or berate me immediately before placing it back to my ear. “Um, I’m good, thanks. You?”

“I’m doing well.” I can imagine her sitting in her nice sitting room reserved for her important guests and phone calls. She never allowed me in there with its white sofas and cream rugs.

“Okay.” I pace around the lobby, feeling impatient, wanting to find out why she’s calling me now.

“I’ve been meaning to call, but I didn’t think you would pick up.” I can hear her shift uncomfortably, which is unlike her.

“Well, I did.” Rolling my eyes and feeling bratty.

“I was wondering if you would like to come home for Thanksgiving.” That was the last thing I expected to hear today.

“To the country club?” I can’t help but scoff; she just wants to show off in front of her friends, and she can’t go alone.

“No, to the house; I was planning to have it at home.”

“Oh.” We’ve not had Thanksgiving at home since before Dad died.

“I think it would be good for us; we could talk.” She sounds like she used to before. “We haven’t spoken about all of it, and truthfully, I think it’s time we both do.”

“Um, wow.” I stop pacing and look towards the entrance to the stands where Gunnar’s parents are watching their son play.

They said yesterday how important it is to show up for people, and well, my mom’s asking me to show up and talk.

“Okay, Mom, I’ll come home.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I’ll drive over in the morning.”

“Oh, Brooke, thank you. This makes me so happy.” And she genuinely sounds happy.

We say our goodbyes, and I walk back to my seat as the second period ends.

“You, okay?” Cami asks as I sit down.

“All good.” I nod back, not sure how to tell her about my mom calling just yet; she frowns but lets it go.

“You could have brought back snacks or drinks; the queues are going to be huge now,” Sasha huffs as she storms off to get her snacks.

Cami and I look after her before turning to each other and sticking our tongues out.

“Now, girls,” Mr C tuts at us, and we sheepishly turn towards him and Mrs C; they both stick their tongues out at us and wink, making us laugh.

Guess they aren’t the biggest fans of her either.

“I’ve told you once, Adam Eugene Price, and I will not say it again,” Cami huffs, full of naming him.

“So, you don’t think I’m a good man?” he looks down disappointed, and we all laugh, and she hits him for the first time in the evening.

“I was very sick and hallucinating,” she huffs, turning her nose up and away from him.

We are at the bar after the Wolves have won. Gunnar’s parents headed back to the hotel after one drink. Sasha has surprisingly joined us and stuck to Gunnar’s side like glue since the guys got here.

“Glad you’re feeling better, Cam,” Bear says, nudging her arm. She smiles at him before cupping her hand over her mouth and whispering in his ear, and he laughs as she sits back, smirking.

“What?” Adam asks, looking at them as Gunnar, Grant, and I all groan, knowing he’s walked into whatever trap Cami is playing.

“She said I’m a good man.” Bear smirks at him, and Grant has to grab Adam to restrain him as he tries to jump over his seat.

“I’ll kill him,” Adam grunts, trying to get out of Grant’s grip.

“I’m hardly holding you, bud,” Grant mumbles, using one arm and picking up his beer in his other.

“Let me at him.” Adam flails his arm, trying to get to Bear, and even Cami can’t help but laugh at his antics.

Except for Sasha, she’s texting furiously on her phone, ignoring everyone.

“What time is your meal booked for Thanksgiving?” Grant asks Gunnar who’s looking at his phone, but looks up when Grant talks.

“Uh, I think two?” He looks at Sasha, who ignores him.

“What time do we need to be with your parents, Cam?” Adam asks, settling back into his seat and not giving Sasha a chance to realise she was being included in the conversation.

“Around twelve? We normally play tag football and games before we eat; we will head to the rink after food.”

“You're skating on Thanksgiving?” Gunnar groans, obviously jealous.

“Gosh, it’s not like you don’t skate every other day of the year. Would it kill you to want to spend a day with me?” Sasha scoffs, sliding off her chair and walking towards the bar. We all turn to stare at Gunnar with concerned looks.

“She’s fine,” he says, getting up to go after her. “Not a big skater.”

“That girl gives me whiplash, and I’m not even dating her.” Bear sighs, putting his head in his hands, as Adam circles his finger around his ear. “We need to talk to him.”

Cami looks away from the table like she wants nothing to do with this conversation, and I've not been around it enough to comment.

“Grant, come on”, Bear pleads "It's not healthy”

“I know, bud, but he loves her and he's adamant that he's happy” Grant's face is conflicted as he looks to Bear “We've got to let him get there on his own”

“So, my mom called me during the game,” deciding to take the opportunity and get us away from this awkward conversation and tell them my new Thanksgiving plans.

“I knew it,” Cami gasps, turning to face me. “I knew something happened. You came back all quiet. You didn’t even heckle the ref when he missed that foul on Grant.”

“I don’t always do that,” I mumble as he smiles at me with a shit-eating grin, and I stick my tongue out at him.

“What did she say, Brookie?” Adam asks with a hardened line.

“Well, she asked if I would go home for Thanksgiving.” I hear Cami take a sharp breath in. “She wants to talk, and I said yes.” I blurt it and pull the band-aid off. Cami might be a little mad, but I know she will support me.

“That’s a mistake.”