Ugh, on my way to have dinner with my parents and brother.
Twelve
Should I be offended you didn't invite me? You did almost meet my dad the other night.
Trust me, I'm doing you a favor. Blake's cool, but my parents would just bore you with how big of a disappointment I am.
Twelve
I can't even imagine your name and disappointment in the samesentence.
That's what I'm saying. I'm great. They're just crazy. Mostly my mom.
Twelve
That sucks, I'm sorry.
How about after?
Twelve
As tempting as you are, I should probably sleep tonight. Early game tomorrow.
Good call. Rain check.
Closing my phone, I hop into my car to head over to my parents'. I flick on the radio, and the first song that blasts through the speakers seems like something Drew would like. The beat is quick, the vocals loud, but the lyrics are deeper than you'd expect them to be for something so lively. Honestly, it's a lot like him.
I never expected that he'd open up to me the way he already has. Or that he'd see that I struggle with doing the same—and call my ass right out on it. I'm not used to airing out all my feelings—or any of them, really. But my playmaker seems to be keeping score.
My entire life I've been told that what I want—what Ifeel—is wrong, immature, atypical. That if it wasn't what my mom expected, then it wasn't worth acknowledging. I guess somewhere along the line, I decided it was easier to keep the heavy stuff to myself. And now, it's almost uncomfortable talking about those things at all. I guess, like anything, if you don't practice it, you can't get better. All I know is that when people press me to open up, I get physically uncomfortable. Maybe it's made me a little guarded—it's definitely made me funnier—but it's also shielded me from any more judgement or criticism.
Despite myoneflaw, I really do like Drew… a lot, actually. I think a year ago I was enamored with him. What girl wouldn't be with a working lady part between their legs? But that night at the gala really changed things for me. I saw him differently than I had before, and that pulled me in even more than the flashy surface stuff ever could. I just never expected that I'd see that version of him again.
But I have. Over and over.
And I'm learning that's who he's been all along underneath the uniform he wears. Not the one with twelve stitched across the back, but the armor he sports for the world. And the truth is… I could actually see myself falling for him.
He's everything past-Brooke wanted—sexy, badass, amazing in bed. But he's also everything future-Brooke needs—thoughtful, reflective, self-aware. And I don't think I've ever had a man see me like he has before. I don't only mean that he's attracted to me, although our chemistry is undeniable. But I mean really understand who I am. Without me having to bare my soul. And sometimes before I even admit to myself what's going on inside my head. It's refreshing and liberating but also, scary as hell.
I'm not used to getting this deep with someone so quickly—or at all for that matter. Most guys would rejoice in the fact that I'm "unemotional" or "easy going," and we'd live in the shallow end until the whole thing fizzled out—if we even made it past the bedroom. But Drew? He sees through it. And he's pushing me for more.
He's only twenty-five, and I worried that meant he wouldn't want to settle down—that he wouldn't know how to. But now, I think Drew's showing me that sometimes wisdom doesn't come with age. Maybe you get wiser the more life throws at you. And if anyone's been dodging life's shrapnel these last few years, it's him.
With sharp projectiles in mind, I pull into my parents' driveway. I really need to start getting out of these again. The Flames did me dirty these past couple weeks not having a game on Family Dinner Night, but hopefully, the work I've been doing will be enough to get me through this meal without my mother passive-aggressively cursing my name across the table.
One last song plays before I kill the engine, dragging my mind right back to Drew. It's funny how such a big personality to the rest of the world is so impacted by the smallest things. The silence in the shooting bay, the seemingly meaningless chain he wears around his neck—how his whole demeanor changes when music's involved. I picture the way his face lit up in the showers that day during our tour or how settled he was in the gym once his songs came on. Not relaxed exactly but focused. Present. As if music was the one thing that could soothe the chaos in his mind.
The realization hits me. We're actually so alike. Two totally different people—different worlds, different reputations, different ages. And yet, all we want is to be seen, loved for who wereallyare. I guess that's true for anyone. People just want to be themselves and not feel wrong or unaccepted. But some of us just say,screw it.And we live life on our own terms, throwing out the ideas people have in their heads for who we'resupposedto be—or shoving them deep down until we're ready.
Others, like Drew, don't get that luxury. For me, the stakes are personal. It's just my family, and I've spent the past thirty-one years letting them down. What's one more disappointing dinner? Plus, my change will actually work in my favor.
But for Drew, the stakes are higher. His image isn't just his own. He has the weight of his team, his coaches, his fans—all of Golden City on his shoulders. And he's not just looking to live his truth. He's looking to tear it down, brick by boisterous, bad boy brick. I thought uprootingmylife and changing everything I've come to know has been hard. I can't imagine how difficult it will be for him to do the same.
With that in mind, I push open my car door and slide out, shutting it loudly enough for my mom to know I'm here… two minutes early. Of course, this is the one time she chooses not to accost me at the door. Instead, I walk into the house like a peasant, with no greeting at all.
Until I hearher.
"Ivy?" I whisper to myself.
