Hudson chuckles and then heads back to the bar.
Surprisingly, Brooke remains silent until the transaction is done and we are making our way back to our seats to eat.
“Thank you for the book,” she says quietly.
“You’re welcome.”
“You don’t really have to read it. I know you probably did that just to get under my skin.”
“One would think that, but I plan to read it.”
“You really don’t have to do that.”
Our food arrives just in time.
I pluck a fry from the plate and then ask, “Do you want text updates as I read it or just nightly check-ins when we hang out?”
She purses her lips side to side, then quietly says, “When the book is over is fine.”
“That’s no fun,” I say, but she doesn't reply.
I do catch the small wrinkle of her nose though.
Somehow, we manage to make it through dinner and small talk about hockey, which I’m surprised she follows. Brooke only started to follow the sport because she was supporting Hudson back when he played, before his injury changed the entire course of his life. I’ve been a fan since I was little but was never gifted at it.
I pay the bill with a lot of disputes on Brooke's end, but she eventually caves and lets me.
I hold the door for her as we leave, ignoring the looks of locals as they watch us together, and Brooke starts to walk off toward her car.
“Same time tomorrow? Your house again?” I call out to her, ignoring the small part of me that wouldn’t mind if we were going to hang out for a little while longer.
She spins quickly, and the surprised grin on her lips is contagious.
“You want to hang out again tomorrow?”
I shrug. “Yeah, why not? Are you busy?”
Someone steps out of the bar, causing her to sidestep and giving her a moment to think over her answer.
My stomach starts to dip.She’s going to say no.
“Okay. See you then.”
“See you then. Night, Books.”
“Brooke,” she corrects.
“No, I mean books,” I say and hold up the one in my hand.
She bites her bottom lip as she shakes her head.
“Good night, Dutton.”
I watch Brooke until she's safely inside her car, buckling and pulling away down the street toward her house, before I climb into my truck and head back to the lodge.
I should go home, get some rest, and prepare myself for another day just like today, including seeing Brooke again. Sad as it is to admit, that might have been the best part of today. Of my last couple of days.
Sure, I meet with the boys here and there, and we have our boys’ nights, and we do our basketball thing, but that’s a random weeknight, grabbing a drink and catching up for an hour or a little more. Sometimes it's nice to just get away from the responsibility of life. And as I drive down Main Street, away from the town and up the winding road that leads to the hill where the lodge sits, I think about how, if I'd have been doing this more, maybe I could have repaired my relationship with the town sooner.
