Page 29 of For the Boys
“That’s because you never see me.”
“True,” she said. “But you’re also just nicer to me than Nate.” Based on her tone, it was clear she was pouting.
“Nate has a lot going on. Cut him some slack sometimes.”
“Fine. I’m just excited for you to be a buffer tonight. And for Mom’s attention to be fully on someone other than me. Even me being involved with FLEX hasn’t made her chill out at all.”
Mackenzie was a sophomore in college and struggling. With two older brothers who were admittedly wildly successful, talented, and driven, she often confided in Brent that she was afraid she wouldn’t live up to the extremely high bar they had set for her. Between Brent’s status as a professional athlete and Nate working toward becoming a surgeon, Mackenzie often felt like the black sheep of the Jean siblings. Brent regularly urged her to get a business degree so she’d have a variety of career options at her disposal upon graduation, but she had never seemed keen to settle on any one thing.
That was, until Brent asked her to help him start FLEX.
“You’ll figure it out, Kenz. I know you will. Nate and I just knew early on what we were good at and wanted to do with our lives. Mom and Dad love you just as much, if not more, than they love me and Nate. Give yourself some grace, kid. You’re only twenty.”
“When you were twenty, you were drafted and already a college standout.”
“Okay, don’t use me as an example. I’m the exception, not the rule, unfortunately.” His teammates’ shouts echoed through the corridor as he approached the locker room door. “But look. I just got to the locker room, and I really need to get changed. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, her voice small. “Love you, B.”
“Love you too, Kenz.”
When he pushed open the door, his teammates immediately began digging into him for being late. Brent rolled his eyes dramatically and flipped them all off, making a beeline for his locker to change and get ready for another night of doing what he loved.
Three hours later, Brent was showered, dressed in his suit, and about to walk into his suite to greet his family. Just as he reached for the door handle, it turned and the door flew open, revealing his mother, a wide grin splitting her face.
“Oh, my baby!” she said, reaching out to hug him. He willingly obliged, instantly enveloped in a cloud of vanilla and Chanel No. 5, a scent that always brought Brent back to childhood. It reminded him of home.
He pulled away and looked down into her blue eyes, which were a shade darker than his own. His mother rested her hands on his cheeks. “You played beautifully tonight, my boy.”
Brent smiled. He had a goal and an assist on Chase’s game-winner.
“Thanks, Mama. I’m glad you guys could make it.”
Over the top of her heap of dark hair, he saw the remaining members of his family. Looking at his father was a lot like staring in a mirror, and what he saw reflected back was his own face thirty years down the road: straight nose, strong jaw, thick, dark eyebrows, and a slightly crooked smile that only added to his overall charm. His chocolate brown hair was starting to go gray at the temples. He walked over and hooked Brent around the neck for a hug.
“At least you stayed out of the box,” his dad said, smirking.
Brent rolled his eyes. He had the lowest penalty minutes of anyone on the team, and his dad knew it.
Next to greet Brent was his brother, Nate—a leaner, slightly shorter version of Brent and their father. He was two years younger than Brent, and his features were slightly softer, making him the perfect mix of their parents.
Nate had never been an overly physically-affectionate person. His ability to emotionally detach from a situation was what was going to make him a phenomenal surgeon one day. Thus, his greeting consisted of a fist bump and a “Good game, bro.”
Rounding out their family of five was his baby sister Mackenzie, a taller, slimmer version of their mother. The eyes, button nose, full mouth, and almost-black hair were all things the Jean women shared.
“Beeeeeeee!” she squealed, running up to him and throwing her arms around his neck. He picked her up and swung her around, loving that she still allowed him to do so. When she was born, Brent was eight, and he’d been completely smitten with her. He’d always been holding and feeding her, rarely letting anyone else near her unless she needed a diaper change.
Brent set her down and held her at arm’s length, studying her. “Since when do you have your nose pierced?” he asked, sounding very much like a parent scolding a child.
“I told you he’d hate it,” Nate told her. Mackenzie stuck her tongue out at him.
“I got it done a few weeks ago. It was very spur-of-the-moment. Some of my friends and I were wandering around Williamsburg and found this cute little shop.” She reached up, toying with the tiny silver hoop that looped around her right nostril.
Mackenzie was attending NYU, and when she wasn’t in class, she and her friends loved to explore the city. It often made Brent nervous, his baby sister wandering around New York unsupervised, her family hundreds of miles away, but after two years, she had proven she could take care of herself.
“I don’t hate it,” he said. “It’s just…different.”
“Well, get used to it, big brother. I’m not taking it out.”
