Page 34 of Cross Check Daddies
And maybe I never stopped believing she was the one.
I finish up cooking and then plate the steaks.
I carry the plate upstairs, knock on his door, and say, “I made you one. No excuses.”
He doesn’t answer at first, but the door opens anyway. “Finish that before you take a nap,” I tell him before heading down.
I think about Brooke as I devour my own food. We were kids back then. Stupid, maybe. Naive for sure. But that girl had my full attention. The first time I saw her sketch something on the back of a napkin, just playing around with character designs, I remember thinking,I’m going to love her forever.
She had that spark. That edge. And I was just a boy with a hockey stick and a dream.
We were never supposed to work, but for a while, we did.
After the game launch, I’ll ask her out. Just coffee. Just to talk. We’ve both grown up. She’s not the same girl, and I’m not the same dumb kid who let her go.
I clean up the dishes, throw on a tee, and knock on Tanner’s door. He has been a little distant, and I just want to make sure he is okay. “Let’s hit the beach,” I say. “We’ve got boards.”
He grunts something about being tired, but ten minutes later, we’re loading the boards into the back of the truck and driving with the windows down.
We don’t talk much during the ride. Not until we’re paddling out past the break, carving waves like we used to. There’s something about surfing that scrapes you clean. Clears the noise out of your head. It’s muscle memory, rhythm, and timing, the water carrying all your mess somewhere farther out.
After an hour of riding the swells, we collapse on the sand with wet hair and sun-warmed skin. Tanner sprawls back, breathing steady, legs stretched out in front of him. I go grab us two cones from the shack across the way, hand him his, and plop down beside him.
He licks at the melting vanilla. “Thanks.”
“Talk to me,” I say, watching a couple of kids wipe out on a too-high wave. “You’re all weird today.”
He sighs. “I like someone.”
“Okay…”
“She’s someone I probably shouldn’t like.”
I glance at him. “Why not?”
He shrugs. “It’s complicated.”
“Most worthwhile things are.” I toss a pebble toward the waterline. “Is she seeing someone else?”
“No.”
“Married?”
“No.”
“Then why can’t you like her?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw works as he stares out at the waves. I study him, my little brother who used to follow me around with his helmet too big and his stick dragging behind him. Who fought his way onto this team like a damn soldier. Whatever this is, it’s got him twisted up good.
“Sometimes,” I say, “you’ve got to go after the person you want before the chance disappears.”
He looks over. “What if it ends up being a mess?”
“Then it’s a mess.” I take a bite of my cone. “At least you went for it.”
His brow lifts. “You sound like a poster.”
I grin. “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
