Page 75 of Love and Other Chances

But more than that, I don’t want Brooks walking into it alone. Not if I can be there with him.

“You don’t have to do that, Sneaks,” Brooks says. His voice is tender, appreciative. “I’ll be with my dad, with Steven and his wife, Julie. You don’t need to be there.”

“Brooks, I want to be there. With you. For your family. For your mom,” I assert before my voice cracks on the last word. Idowant to be there, not only for Brooks, but for all of them. For Angela. To show her that I’m back, even in some abstract way.

“Are you sure?” Brooks asks. I know he’s trying to give me a way out, a way to avoid the sorrow. But I also hear the hope in his voice.

“Brooks, I’m with you. I want to be there.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. His voice is tight when he murmurs, “Thank you.”

Chapter twenty-nine

When my alarm goes off Friday morning, I wake up exhausted. No sleep badges were earned last night. I'd tossed and turned in anticipation of today, torn between avoiding sad emotions and supporting the man I love.

I’ve alerted Kent that I won’t be at staff meeting today and canceled the rest of my commitments. I make an expeditious trip to the grocery store first thing when I get up. Then, after taking a solemn shower and quickly getting dressed, I text Brooks.

Are you sure you don’t want me to drive today? I’d be happy to

BROOKS

It’s ok. I can drive. Be there in 10

I’m waiting on the driveway when Brooks arrives. Quickly tossing my small duffel bag and winter coat in the back seat, I open the passenger door before he can get out of the car.

“Hey,” I greet, tone even.

“Hey,” he responds, tone tipping to the depressed side of even.

I feel out what’s needed for the trip as we drive out of town. Brooks has a playlist going, but we’re pretty much silent during the fifteen-minute drive to the highway heading to KC. He fidgets in his seat, his hands moving from tapping the steering wheel to rubbing his face to leaning an elbow against the window.

Good thing I came prepared.

“I found this podcast calledRevisionist Historythat shares interesting but overlooked stories from history. It sounded like something you might enjoy—would you want to listen to an episode?” I ask. I’m carefully watching Brooks’ face to gauge his reaction, in case I need to pull out theTrollssoundtrack instead.

“Sure. That does sound interesting,” he replies, looking genuinely intrigued. I breathe a sigh of relief at having something to distract our thoughts for the few hours we’ll be driving. Brooks hands me his phone, and I pull up the podcast on Spotify, quickly searching for the episode about Hitler’s Olympics. There are nine episodes in the series, so we’ll have plenty of distraction material if this hooks Brooks’ interest.

I’m willing to embrace boring history if it means keeping his mind off of where we’re heading.

Luckily, the engaging podcast captures our attention. After the first episode, I reach to the back of the car and pull out my other secret distraction weapon. “Reese’s Pieces or Bugles?” I ask.

A hint of a smile crosses Brooks’ lips, which feels like I achieved Olympic podium status. “Bugles. I can’t do any sugar right now.”

I tear open the bag, and Brooks holds out his hand for me to place five Bugles on his fingertips. Just like old times.

Between the podcast and snacks, the drive to Lee’s Summit passes by in no time. We pull into the driveway of a house I don’t recognize. But, of course, it makes sense that Brooks’ dad wouldn’t want to stay in the house he shared with Angela. Especially with Brooks and Steven grown and no longer living there.

Still, it breaks my heart a little for all of them. And for all of the memories I have from their old house. Sitting at the kitchen table while Angela blasted Tina Turner and cooked dinner—with Brooks goofing off or flirting with me instead of doing his homework. Movie nights in the living room. Game nights in the basement with the basketball and dance teams. Brooks’ parents were always fully stocked with snacks and constantly adding to the collection of gaming tables. They were successful in their mission to entice all the high schoolers to hang out there under the casual supervision of “Papa and Mama Murph.”

I think I accidentally entered a vacuum chamber. My body suddenly feels deprived of air. My breathing turns panicked as I try to fight off the cage bars slowly extending around my thoughts.

Don’t think about it. You need to be there for Brooks. He’s got to be feeling a thousand times worse. Pull it together for him. You’re on a beach. You’re floating on top of the gentle waves of the sea. You’re not trapped in the sadness of Angela’s absence. Fly above it.

Brooks’ face is tight as he turns the car off and takes a deep breath. He’s silent as we exit the vehicle and walk up to the front porch.

His dad, Steven Sr., opens the door at our approach. In the span of a second, his eyes soften at Brooks’ expression and then light up looking at me.

“Teegan! Brooks told me y’all were dating, but he didn’t say you’d be coming today,” he says as he steps toward me. He envelops me in a hug.

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