Page 6 of Love and Other Chances

Because Brooks Murphy just walked through the door.

Chapter three

Someday, when I die, they’re going to perform an autopsy and find flecks of oatmeal embedded in my lungs. That’s how deeply I inhale the bite I’m chewing the moment I lay eyes on Brooks.

MyBrooks.

No,notmy Brooks.

I’d cross my fingers and hope that he hasn’t seen me, but there’s absolutely no way that anyone in the house could not notice the violent coughing fit wracking my body. By now, crumbs may have made their way into my bloodstream along with oxygen. My respiratory system has become one with the chocolate chip oatmeal cookie.

Nurse Natalie is quickly by my side, patting my back and asking if I’m okay. She hands me a cup of water. I take a sip, trying to settle my diaphragm. My cheeks would be pink just from the sheer exertion of coughing, but they’re extra flaming since the first time I’m seeing Brooks in eight years has me hacking up a lung in front of him.

“So sorry! I tripped and choked on that bite of cookie! That’s what I get for eating while walking,” I joke between coughs. “Everyone should try one of Sarah’s cookies—they’re to die for!” I add, hoping to divert attention to the baker.

Sarah beams again, announcing that she’ll gladly pass along the recipe to anyone interested. She walks forward into the living room, clearing the way for me to make eye contact with Brooks.

The dismay in his eyes confirms that he recognizes me too, and neither of us knows how to react. I’m the proverbial deer in headlights, but at least my Brooks-induced paralysis has quelled my coughing.

Joy doesn’t seem to notice and moves between us to make the final introduction. “Teegan, this is Brooks Murphy, the final member of our small group. He recently moved to Brooklyn.”

“I know,” I say, not extending my hand for the handshake greeting I gave everyone else. Joy looks at me quizzically.

“I mean, I know Brooks,” I stammer.

Brooks takes a step forward. “Teegan and I went to the same high school.” He fills in my unfinished thought. “I was a year ahead of her, but we . . . knew each other.”

The slight pause in his statement was so brief that I’m likely the only one who noticed. Joy smiles widely and says, “Well, what a small world! Glad that you could both be here. Brooks, do you want to grab a plate of food before joining us in the living room?”

“Nah, I’m good. I can get something later,” he replies, looking at Joy but darting glances at me. I turn to walk into the living room before I’m forced to say any more words.

Words are gone. Cease to exist.

How am I supposed to find the friends I need in this group when Brooks is here?

I take in the seating arrangement of the space. There are two seats open on a couch and one folding chair in the circle. I rush to claim the folding chair, unable to risk Brooks taking the other seat on the couch instead of Joy.

“Thanks, everyone, for coming tonight,” Caleb begins. “Joy and I have been part of a small group at church for the past few years, but we talked all summer about how we wanted to start a new group for some of the young adults at our church. We’re excited to connect as friends and grow in our faith together this year.”

Joy suggests that we go around the circle to give brief introductions. She and Caleb go first, followed by the other married couple, then Natalie. I try really, really hard to pay attention to what each person says. But that’s hard when all my mind can think is:Brooksis here. Brooksishere. Brooks ishere.

He’s next in the circle to share, and my attention snaps fully into place as he begins speaking.

“Hi, I’m Brooks,” he says with a wave.So he’s officially going by Brooks now? In high school, it was always “Murphy” or “Murph.” I was the only friend who called him by his first name. I wonder when that changed?

“I’m twenty-seven, and I moved to Brooklyn a few weeks ago. I grew up in Kansas City and went to a small college in Missouri to play basketball. When I graduated, I started teaching middle school social studies in the KCMO school district. I recently decided to get a master’s in educational administration so I can work toward becoming a principal someday. I’m teaching at one of the middle schools here and taking classes in the evenings and online.”

“What brought you to Brooklyn, then?” Sarah asks.

“Well, the fact that it’s practically my name twin, obviously,” he replies with a grin. Everyone laughs. “No, really, I decided to take classes at Townsend because a college buddy of mine teaches here in Brooklyn and told me about a program they have for middle and high schoolers called The Hangout.”

I know exactly what he’s talking about. Lana volunteered at The Hangout every Tuesday all four years of college. The program is designed to give at-risk students a place to belong and make positive connections with other students and community members. Lana always worked with students like Sofia who were learning English, but many of the kids go to socialize and play games or sports.

“I’m hoping to learn some best practices from the directors and volunteers so I can eventually introduce a similar program in KCMO,” Brooks explains.

Natalie interrupts him. “KCMO? Sorry, you’ve said that twice now, but I didn’t grow up in Kansas and need a translation.”

Brooks gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that—I mean Kansas City, Missouri. The Kansas City metro area stretches across Kansas and Missouri. We shorten to ‘KCK’ or ‘KCMO.’ Of course, then you have all of the surrounding suburbs.”

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