Page 84 of Love and Other Chances

Lana hugs Brooks as I hug Mateo goodbye, and then the guys shake hands again. “I had fun getting to know you, Brooks,” Mateo says. “I’m really glad I didn’t have to fly to Kansas to knock you around.”

“I . . . am also glad about that,” Brooks states.

“Don’t think he wouldn’t if needed, though,” Lana says, voice serious. Her face turns deadly as she adds, “We both will.”

Brooks salutes. “Duly noted. ‘Stay on Lana’s good side,’” he says, pretending to write on his palm. “Seriously though, thanks for letting us come visit last minute.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” Lana says, face stillveryserious. I smack her arm with the back of my hand. She instantly switches on a smile. “We had so much fun! Come back any time!”

On the flight home, I regale Brooks with the full-length version of Lana and Mateo’s love story. He listens intently, although thoroughly distractingmeby gently tracing his fingers along mine the entire time.

We leave the Kansas City airport and drive straight back to Brooklyn. Brooks probably does have some prep work to do before goingback to work tomorrow, but I’m also pretty sure he doesn’t want to see family again this weekend.

“You’ve heard all about Lana and Amaya. Tell me about some of your close friends,” I tell Brooks once we hit the highway to Brooklyn.

“Well, I don’t have the same degree of closeness to friends from college like you do. I’ve kept in touch with my FCA teammates, Brody and Rylen, on social media and texting occasionally, but I feel motivated to talk with them more after seeing what you have with the Beefs,” he says. “You know me—I’ve always had a wide rather than deep circle of friends. Always looking for the best experiences as opposed to having the same people to hang with all the time,” he adds with a shrug.

He pauses for a beat before continuing. “Honestly, the people in our small group at church are probably some of my closest friends now. And I’ve enjoyed getting to know my colleagues at the school in Brooklyn. But it’s a little hard knowing that I’ll likely be moving on from there again in another year or so.”

Brooks glances over at me before clearing his throat. “But, of course, you’re my best friend,” he says. He’s tried to make his tone sound light and breezy, but I hear a layer of apprehension beneath it.

I lean over to kiss his cheek. “Same,” I assure him. He reaches down to hold my hand, his thumb brushing the side of my knee where our entwined fingers are propped. “I mean, Lana and Amaya are my Beefs, which is totally separate terminology, so the title of best friend can go to you.”

Brooks squeezes my knee where I’m ticklish, causing me to jump and squeal with laughter. With a terrible attempt at a British accent, he says, “Why thank you, your highness, for bequeathing such an important title to one so inconsequential as I.”

The playfulness drops from his expression. “All jokes aside, I can’t tell you how thankful I am to have you in my life right now. As a girlfriend, obviously, but especially as a friend.” He pauses, and it’s not till he rubs his eyes that I realize he’s fighting back tears.

“I know you were happy to see Lana, but, if I’m honest, this trip toD.C. was really a selfish move on my part. An attempt to get out of town and away from the memories. I’ve had a hard time really processing everything with my mom,” he says. “Well, the more accurate statement would probably be that I haven’t processed it at all. I typically distract myself any time reminders of her pop up.”

I reach over to gently squeeze his knee. “I understand that reaction.”

His lips twitch with a smile. “I know you do. Maybe that’s why having you here is making it possible for me to face the memories for once. You get me in a way that not many people do. You knew Mom and loved her, so I can talk about her without having to explain everything. But you’re one circle removed from the direct heartbreak. Losing her was a shock—devastation that we were totally unprepared for. The grief has always felt sharp because I’ve never let myself feel it long enough for the pain to dull into an ache. I know I still have a long way to go, but I guess I’m just saying that you make me feel like I can go there. I can go there because I have you with me.”

He huffs a laugh. “Does that make any sense, or are these the ramblings of a lunatic?”

“I wish we weren’t driving right now so you could see my eyes,” I say. I settle for reaching for his hand instead. “It makes total sense, Brooks. And I’ll go there through the grief with you.”

After a breath, I murmur, “I’ll go anywhere with you.” It’s such a quiet whisper that he may not have heard me, but his firm squeeze of my hand assures me that he did.

When we reach my duplex, Brooks gets out of the car to carry my duffel bag to the door. Gina’s car isn’t here, but I linger on the front porch rather than inviting Brooks inside.

He has a fidgety energy about him, so I tip forward to kiss his cheek. He catches me with a hand behind my head, holding me in place close to him.

“Sneaks . . . Teegan. Thanks for going with me this weekend. Everywhere. Everything. Just . . . thank you,” Brooks murmurs.

I trace my fingers along his jaw. “You’re welcome.”

He looks like he wants to say more, so I stand still, holding his gaze.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this, but I was trying to wait until it made more sense, until it was the right time for you, but I don’t know how to know when that is,” he says, his fingers clenching and unclenching in my hair on my neck. “But I know. I’ve always known.”

I hold my breath, anticipating the words he’s about to speak. My heart slowly inflates with energy.

“I love you, Teegan,” Brooks says, voice confident, no longer a murmur. “I love you.”

My heart explodes.

“I love you too, Brooks,” I answer, and I fly to his lips. We linger in the kiss, savoring this sacred moment. When Brooks pulls away, he presses his lips, feather-light, to my cheeks, my jaw, my forehead.

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