Page 73 of The Sweetest Risk

“Did you just call me lover boy?”

“Yeah, because that’s your nickname from now on. Now listen to us!” Oakley insists.

Jagielski chimes in, “Like we were trying to say before you rudely interrupted us, it’s time…for the grand gesture!” He does what I can only describe as jazz hands when he utters the words “grand gesture”.

“Okay, you all are insane!” I start to stand up, but Bradley and Oakley sit me back down. “Look, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you…Brooke hates me and I haven’t heard from her since two months ago. Not since that playoff party.”

Jagielski shushes me with his finger on my lips. “Beckett also said that Brooke still loves you, you dumbass.”

I swipe Jagielski’s finger away and point to him. “Don’t ever do that to me again, Jagielski. And besides, even if that is true, she is not speaking to me. How am I supposed to even do this ‘grand gesture’,” I air quote, “if she isn’t talking to me?”

Bradley inhales sharply, stands up, and holds out his hand for me to apparently take. I slap my hand in his and stand up.

“We’ll figure that out,” he says. “We’re your boys! We are going to help you get your girl, aka my little sister, back.”

I can’t ignore the surge of hope that fills my chest, but I try to tamp it down. I need to be realistic here. Brooke hates my guts and God knows that girl can hold a grudge.

We all grab our sticks and head out into the tunnel, then onto the ice. The crowd gets louder as we approach the arena. ABlink-182 song is already blasting through the speakers. It’s time to lock in on what I really want. Surprising enough, the Stanley Cup looks more achievable than getting Brooke back. I wonder what these guys have up their sleeves.

32

Talking with Bradley really made me reflect about my relationship with my parents. More specifically, my mom. I don’t want to harbor resentment toward them, and they need to be aware of how they treat me. I am glad that Tristan stood up for me, but I need to be the one to fully resolve this tension between us.

I have a key but I don’t want to scare them, so I knock on the door of my parents’ house. They are not expecting me but I can’t wait until Sunday dinner to talk to them. I’ve actually missed quite a few Sunday dinners because I couldn’t face my brother or my parents. I wasn’t ready to talk to them about any of the drama that ensued with Tristan. That whole relationship, I was not ready to resolve. I don’t know if I ever will be.

My dad finally opens the door. He looks surprised. “Brooke.”

“Is it okay that I just stopped by like this? I know you weren’t expecting me to come by today.”

My dad opens the door wider and steps aside to let me in. “Brooke, you know you are always welcome to come by.” ESPN is on the TV but the volume is low, almost like white noise. It reminds me of my childhood. My dad closes the door behind us and then brings me in for a giant hug. “This will always be your home.”

Once he lets me out of the biggest hug he’s ever given me, he grabs my shoulders and leans down so his eyes are level with mine. “Now, you listen to me, Brooke. I have always been so proud of all of your accomplishments. I am sorry you never felt that from me or your mom.”

“It’s not that I never felt it from you.”

“It wasn’t enough. You obviously felt dismissed by us, and we never intended for you to feel that way. I am not making excuses, but it’s impossible to be there for your kids all the time. We love you both equally. Are we proud of Bradley for everything he has accomplished in his life? Of course. But we are equally as proud of you. I need you to know that.”

Tears are welling up. I didn’t expect my dad to say this to me. He has always been so reserved with his feelings. That is just who he is. I wipe a rogue tear with the sleeve of my pink pullover. “Thanks, Dad.” I sniffle. “Where’s Mom?”

“In the kitchen making dinner. You must have been on her mind because she is making your favorite: grandma’s famous spaghetti and meatballs.” My grandma was full-blown Italian and she made the best spaghetti and meatballs. Whenever we would go over to her house, she would always make it for us and she would whisper in my ear so that Bradley wouldn’t hear, “I know it’s your favorite, cara mia” and then wink. The bowls she served the spaghetti in were so giant, they could pass for mixing bowls. I smile at those memories.

The meatballs must be in the oven because the kitchen smells heavenly. It transports me back to my grandmother’s kitchen. Water is boiling on the stove and from the doorway, I watch my mom dump a box of spaghetti in. She sets a timer and then moves on to stir the simmering sauce. She lifts the wooden spoon and tastes the sauce, then adds a little dash of sugar to the mix. It is scary how much she resembles my grandma.

I clear my throat. “Hey Mom.”

She whips her head around. “Oh, Brooke. Hi honey. I didn’t know you were coming by.” She wipes her hands on her apron and walks over to where I am standing and brings me in for a hug. She holds on a little longer than normal. “Are you staying for dinner? I am making…”

“Grandma’s spaghetti and meatballs. Yeah, I can see that. It smells delicious. And yeah, I’ll stay for dinner. Thanks.”

There is definitely some tension between us. My mom doesn’t look like her usual self. This isn’t the confident, headstrong woman I grew up with. She looks scared and a little sad. This is the first time since I can remember that she doesn’t comment on how I look – which as of late, hasn’t been the best.

I sit at the island and like my mom always does without asking, she places a glass of water in front of me, knowing that I need it. “Thanks.” I tap the side of my glass nervously.Rip the bandaid off, Brooke. “Mom, I actually came by to talk with you about what…” I pause because even saying his name out loud is like stabbing my heart. “...Tristan said at y’all’s anniversary party.”

My mom is avoiding any sort of eye contact with me and busies herself with stirring the pasta and the sauce and manning the meatballs in the oven. “Was it true? Is that how you feel? Like your dad and I aren’t proud of you?”

“To be honest, Mom, yeah. And it sucks for me to admit that to you. I never want to be ungrateful for the parents you are,but it has been hard for me to always be second to Bradley in basically every aspect in my life.”

“Now, Brooke…”

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