Dad springs off the couch as Blake offers me an empathetic smile before standing and scooping Selah off the floor. Amy follows them, leaving Ivy and me as the last ones in the room. When I turn toward her, she's still looking at me. I tuck my lips in and raise my brow, attempting to stand, but before I lift off the couch, she stops me, a firm hand back on my knee.
"It's all going to work out, Brookie. I can feel it."
I exhale heavily, squeezing her hand and hoping she's right.
"Aunt Ivy!" I run through my parents' front door, careful not to fall down their steps as I chase after my aunt. As soon as dessert was done, she threw her patchwork satchel over her shoulder and announced her exit, and I was elbow deep in Cool Whip thanks to Selah, my worst influence.
Ivy turns back around just as she's about to step off of the sidewalk to round the front of her current ride—a burnt orange pickup with a rusted bumper and a pink elephant air freshener.
"These tests..." I say once I finally reach her, my breathing heavier than I'd like to admit.Damn.It'd be nice if all this time near professional athletes would rub off on me in some kind of way. "Everything's okay, right? You didn't give us much detail."
"No results yet! Can you believe it? All these body scanners and beeping machines and you still have to wait to get your answers." She opens the passenger door and sets her purse on the seat. "But I'm fine, Brookie, really," she continues, slamming it shut.
"You're sure? You feel okay?"
"Oh, I'm fine. You know doctors, always poking and prodding." Ivy scoops my hands into hers. "Now quick, tell me about the boy." Her subject change catches me off guard, but the thought of talking about being with Drew to, well, anyone, is all it takes to rattle my brain enough to move past it with her.
I drop her hands and bring my fingertips to my forehead, massaging away the nervous energy. "It's him—the hockey player." She claps her hands together quietly, then brings them just below her chin, a full smile spread above them. "God, I think I really like him. But Ivy, it's so… complicated."
"Why, darling?"
I blow out a breath. "Just because of who he is."At least to the world."He's younger than I am and still—he's just got a lot going on. I don't want to get invested if he's not ready. Or if we're too different."
Ivy tilts her head in the way that she always does when she's about to say something that she wants to stick. "I believe in timing more than anything, you know this. There's a reason the universe put you two together now, even when things feel messy or unexpected."
I glance down the quiet street, the sun just starting to set, that Golden City glow forming in the distance. Drew's smile pops into my mind—cocky, but real—and I think of the way he looked at me that first night at the gala like I was the only person in the room. Back when the last thing I thought I wanted was to settle down.
"What if I let him in and it doesn't work out? Then I've just wasted more time."
My eyes make their way back to Ivy's as a lump forms in my throat. I realize I'm once again second-guessing myself, flipping back from my decision earlier in my car and hoping her answer will convince me one way or another.
My aunt leans forward and takes my hand again. "But what if it does and you waste no time at all."
Her words settle in my chest, warm and weightless—a little terrifying—but exactly what I needed to hear.
26
Drew
Iwoke up this morning to possibly the sexiest notification I could have received. The kind that makes me want to start my day off with an actual bang and turns morning wood into something thatneedsto be handled. Rolling over, already battling the usual mixture of nerves and adrenaline about today's game, I read the one message that stopped everything cold:
Brooke Larkin has sent you a playlist.
I paused where I was, my face—and my heart—lighting up at the gesture.I knew this girl was special.Clicking on it, a million other thoughts ran through my mind as it loaded. Which songs did she pick? Why did she pick them? What made her think to make this in the first place? When it finally downloaded, I scanned the list, snickering at the ones that I knew.
The first few were some of the songs that played at the gym the morning that she shadowed me. Then, there was the Blink 182 songthat I almost forgot existed until she cracked that joke at the gala. A couple were about being yourself and not giving a shit—ones I already know and love. And then there was one that made me laugh out loud just because of the name—the last one on the list that I had never heard before. At least not until it became my new favorite song.
The whole list has been playing on repeat my entire ride to the arena, but stopping at a red light, I pull out my phone and tap the last track again. I roll into the arena's lot as MGK'sClichéplays through my headphones, and let the words rush over me for what feels like the millionth time already this morning.
It's more upbeat than some of the songs I listen to regularly, especially before a game, but it has all the same familiar bottom lines. The sound is uplifting, but the lyrics are raw and deep—a heartfelt confession that he knows he's flawed.
And a quiet plea for her to take a chance on him anyway.
It makes me wonder why she added it. Was it just the title? The one that must remind her of our new inside joke. Or did she hear something in the lyrics that made her think of me? Because it's as if I wrote the words myself—took a play out of Petrov's book and put my thoughts on paper. For her.
I sit on my bike after parking for a little longer than I should, letting the song play until the end. The chorus lingers in the back of my mind as it rings out for the last time—words about how he and his girl could run away or build a home, even if technically, she's better off without him. If only she would wait for him—until he has it all together.
I know I should get in there—warm ups start in an hour, and I like to be early enough to not feel rushed. But for a second, that doesn't matter. Because it finally hits me. And as the playlist ends, I repeat the song again.
