Page 135 of For the Boys
“There’s five of us. I have an older brother and a younger sister, plus Mom and Dad.”
“Oh yes, that will be just fine. We’ll need to get the pontoon out, and the water trampoline, and make sure propane for the grill is stocked…” Sandra ticked things off on her fingers as her husband latched onto her elbow and steered her out of the suite.
“Are you ready to go home?” Berkley asked Brent.
“Yes, I’m exhausted.” He gripped her hand and followed his family from the room, Lexie close behind. Before they had made it outside, Lexie disappeared.
Weird, Berkley thought.
The ride to Brent’s condo was quiet, Berkley leaving Brent to his thoughts. But they were blessedly alone, which was how Brent preferred it after a tough loss. She didn’t allow herself to feel the loss the way she would have before Brent. This moment was much tougher on him than it was on her, and what he needed now was for her to be rock solid for him, a lifeline while he took the rest of the evening to wallow.
Then, tomorrow, he would go back to work like he always did.
They walked inside his condo, and Berkley moved past him, walking down the hallway ahead of him. At this point, she’d experienced enough losses with him to understand what he needed, and the two of them moved through the apartment in a silent, well-choreographed dance. She had just reached the switch for the hall light when Brent came up behind her.
“Don’t turn them on,” he said. “I just want to sit in the dark and stare at the city.”
“Bedroom or living room?” Berkley asked.
“Bedroom.” He took his suit jacket off and hung it on the knob of the hall closet, kicked off his shoes near the sideboard, and made his way down the hallway to the living room.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Berkley asked from the kitchen.
“Beer,” he said. Then added, “Please.” Berkley grabbed one, removed the cap, and walked to the living room. Brent was standing behind the couch, hands braced in front of him, staring blindly out the windows.
“Brent,” she whispered, trying not to startle him. He angled toward her, and she handed him the beer. As he removed his tie and tossed it on the floor, he took a long pull from the bottle as he padded down the hallway. Berkley picked it up and set it on the back of the couch before following him to the bedroom. The buttons flying from his shirt as he removed it were the only indication he was angry as well as sad. Kicking off his pants, he crawled into bed with his beer firmly in his hands. Berkley opened the floor-to-ceiling curtains.
Looking at the city from this vantage point wasn’t something Berkley got to do often. When the sun came up, it shone directly into the room, so the blackout curtains were almost always closed.
At night, the city glowed. Detroit wasn’t like New York or Paris or Tokyo, full of sights and sounds not found anywhere else in the world. It was simply Detroit, a city that, despite its reputation, was beautiful because of how hard it worked to overcome setbacks. Detroit was a blue-collar city, as was evident in the way it constantly built itself back up in the face of adversity. The lights sparkled on the river, and the buildings stood as a tall and strong reminder that this was a great city, that it would take care of itself. It would always be Detroit versus everybody.
When she crawled up onto the bed next to him, he held out his arm, and she curled into his side. For a while, the room was silent, save their breathing and Brent sipping his beer. Berkley got up to take off her makeup and brush her teeth. When she came back, Brent was sound asleep, snoring softly with his head lolled to the side, the beer barely remaining upright in his limp hand. She removed the bottle from his hand and took it to the kitchen, pouring the remainder down the drain before putting it with the recycling.
As she reentered Brent’s room, she paused in the doorway, studying him. The planes of his face and chest were displayed in stark relief in the moonlight filtering through the window. He looked younger in these moments, his face slack with sleep, the weight of the world shed from his shoulders.
And it was in this moment that she knew, deep down, with every fiber of her being, that she loved him.
Holy shit.
Joy bubbled up in her chest, followed instantly by a chill down her spine. She had wanted, needed, to protect her heart, and instead had given it away to the boy most likely to break it. It didn’t matter that she had done everything she could to avoid this, to prevent this moment from coming.
Crawling under the sheets next to him, she desperately wanted to press her skin against his, to reassure herself that he wasn’t going to hurt her, but she held herself back, curling around herself on the opposite side of the bed. Her head and her heart were at war, and it was a long time before she fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brent
Brent sat on the stool in his stall, leg bouncing with nerves. In thirty minutes, he and his teammates would set skates to ice and go to war.
They were back in Detroit for game five of the opening round of the playoffs. After losing the first game at home, they’d gone on to win three straight, two of those on the road. They were back in front of their home crowd with the opportunity to close out the series in front of their fans.
Mitch looked at him from his stall a few feet away. “Dude, chill,” he said. “We got this. We go out there and play our game. We’re the better team.”
Brent ran his hand through his hair. “I know. I just really want to win.”
“We all do,” Coach said from the front of the room. “And so do those thirty guys that play for Buffalo. But Mitch is right. Just go out there and play your game. You’ve all been here before. You know what it takes to win. So go do it.”
The team made noises of agreement and went about getting dressed.
