Page 16 of Healing Hearts
Hudson raises an eyebrow. “And how’s that going?”
“Surprisingly well,” Sawyer admits. “Charlie’s still running the kitchen like the drill sergeant she is. Business has been steady, and I’m learning a thing or two about how not to burn water.”
Garrett snorts. “Sawyer Gallo, Renaissance man. Builder by day, restaurateur by night. What’s next? Dance lessons?”
Sawyer grins. “Don’t tempt me. I hear ballroom is making a comeback.”
The table dissolves into laughter again, and for a moment, I let myself relax, enjoying the camaraderie. It’s good to be around these guys— it reminds me that even when life gets crazy, there’s always a place where things feel normal.
The energy in the back room of Hooplas begins to wind down as the guys start to gather their things, their earlier laughter replaced by the casual camaraderie of friends parting ways. Hudson is still grinning from the ribbing about his proposal plans, and Sawyer’s got that relaxed air of someone who loves keeping people guessing.
“All right, gentlemen,” Eli says, stretching his arms above his head. “Same time next week?”
“Always,” Jax replies, clapping him on the back. “And maybe next week, Trevor will actually keep his head in the game instead of the clouds.”
“Hey, I made the catch, didn’t I?” I retort with a grin, tossing my jacket over my shoulder. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hudson chuckles. “Just don’t let that redhead distract you too much. Some of us still like winning.”
Shaking my head at their teasing, I make my way out of the back room with the rest of the guys, the sound of music and lively chatter growing louder as we step back into the main bar. Just as I’m about to head for the exit, a familiar flash of red hair catches my eye.
Brooke.
She’s perched on a stool at the bar, leaning slightly over the counter as she chats animatedly with the bartender. Her cheeks are flushed, her green eyes sparkling, and there’s a tipsy glow about her that’s both endearing and slightly concerning. A half-empty glass of what looks like what’s left of a fruity cocktail sits in front of her.
I slow my pace, my protective instincts kicking in as I notice the bartender shaking her head with a small smile. “Seriously, Brooke, it’s no trouble,” she says. “I can call you a cab.”
Brooke waves her off with an exaggerated flourish. “I don’t need a cab! I’m perfectly fine. Just… maybe one more glass of water, and I’ll walk home. It’s not far. Hell, we live in a small town.”
I step closer, clearing my throat to get their attention. “Actually,” I say, offering her a small smile, “that won’t be necessary, Steph. I’ll take her home.”
“You sure?” Steph asks me.
I nod, “Positive. I’ve got her.”
Brooke’s head swivels toward me, her eyes lighting up in recognition, but her speech is slurred. “Trevor! What are you doin’ here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I reply, sliding onto the stool beside her. “Last I checked, you didn’t strike me as the ‘bar-hopping solo’ type.”
She pouts playfully, then giggles, the sound tugging at something deep in my chest. “I’m not! I came with Kendalland Charlie and the others after kickball, but they left, and I… well, I stayed for the vibes.”
The bartender gives me a knowing look. “She’s had a good time, but I was just cutting her off and about to call her a cab.”
“Thanks for looking out for her,” I say, nodding. “I’ve got her from here.”
Brooke narrows her eyes at me, though her attempt at seriousness is undercut by the giggle that slips out. “I don’t need babysitting, you know. I’m perfectly capable of—” She pauses, tilting her head as if to find the right word. “Functioning!”
“Sure you are,” I tease, standing and offering her my hand. “But let’s make sure you ‘function’ all the way home in one piece.”
She eyes my hand for a moment before taking it, her touch warm and soft. “Fine,” she says, reluctantly, though her smile gives her away. “But only because I trust you, Dr. Jacobs.”
“Glad to hear it,” I reply, helping her off the stool. I steady her as she wobbles slightly, then loop her arm through mine. “Let’s get you home.”
She narrows her eyes at me again, this time with suspicion, but then she shrugs, leaning into my side as we make our way to the door. “You’re lucky you’re charming, Trevor. Otherwise, I’d have to find another ride. You were here the whole time?” She changes the subject so fast; I’m having trouble keeping up.
“Private party in the back.” I laugh, guiding her outside into the cool night air. “It’s lucky for both of us, I am charming. Now, let’s get you home before you decide to challenge me on that.”
As I help her into the passenger seat of my car, I can’t help but smile. She’s a whirlwind, this one—full of surprises, warmth, and a spark that’s completely captivating. And as I start the engine, I realize that this is a night I’m not going to forget anytime soon.
