Page 109 of Forecheck
I found Brent standing by the door. I loved and hated when he was like this: freshly showered, hair still wet and slicked back save that one stubborn piece that always curled onto his forehead. Loved it, because he was a fucking snack I wanted to unwrap and consume. Hated it, because we were surrounded by people and I couldn’t have my way with him—couldn’t distract him in the way only I could do, with my mouth and my body.
Tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights anyway. I wouldn’t kick a man while he was down, and I knew exactly how the evening would play out even without the talk I wanted to have with him.
Brent hunched, hugging his mother, his perfectly tailored suit jacket pulling tight across the broad muscles of his back. When he straightened, I saw the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone, his tie hanging loosely and crookedly around his neck. He turned his gaze to me, forlorn eyes begging me to make things better.
I ran into his arms, letting him squeeze me tight, crushing me against his chest like I was his lifeline.
He buried his face in my hair and said, “Well that sucked,” quietly in my ear.
Sliding my arms inside his suit jacket, I rubbed soothing circles on his back. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you were great,” his mom said, pulling us from our embrace.
“You’ll get ‘em next time, champ,” his dad told him, slugging him on the shoulder.
I could tell Kenzie wanted to hug him, but since he refused to let go of me, she settled for pecking him on the cheek. “Love you, Bee.”
“Love you, too, kiddo.”
Nate didn’t approach but merely gave Brent a look I couldn’t decipher and shrugged his shoulders. Brent seemed to understand, because he returned the gesture.
“So I see you’ve all met Berkley and Lexie.”
“They’re lovely,” Sandra assured him. “Although I can’t believe this is the first time we’re all meeting. So much wasted time! I’m glad the Daniels could make it down, though. That was sweet of you, Brent.”
“Shit,” Brent muttered under his breath, meeting my eyes. I let him see the displeasure simmering just beneath the surface but simply shook my head.Later, I told him silently. In truth, I’d cool off a lot over the course of the game, but we still needed to have a conversation.
“Jay Daniels,” my dad said, extending his hand to Brent. “Pleasure to finally meet you. You played a hell of a game. I’m sorry it didn’t go the way we’d hoped.”
Brent offered my dad a tight smile. “We’ll get ‘em next time,” he said, echoing his dad’s earlier words.
The rest of my family introduced themselves, and I was pleasantly surprised that Logan managed to keep his cool in the surreality of the evening.
Jessica, for her part, was more interested in striking up a friendship with Kenzie than meeting Brent, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest. Though both Logan and I had tried, we never managed to get Jessica to enjoy hockey or even care about the sport the way we did.
When conversations devolved into idle chit chat, I turned to Brent.
“Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes, I’m exhausted.” He gripped my hand and followed our families from the room.
As I hugged and kissed my family goodbye—they’d be leaving in the morning on yet another chartered flight—my irritation once again rose. I swallowed it down for the moment, letting my desire to take care of Brent override my anger.
But I knew bottling this up wouldn’t be good for either of us in the long run, and I had to talk to him about it sooner rather than later.
The quick ride to his condo was quiet. I drove, leaving Brent to his thoughts. But we were blessedly alone, which is what Brent preferred after a tough loss—something his family understood about him, and why they hadn’t pressed us to join them and my family for a late dinner. The Warriors played again in two days, so Sandra, Ron, and Kenzie would be staying in the city.
As heartbroken as I was for Brent, I was also sad for myself. I’d been a Warriors’ fan since birth, and the loss stung. But I didn’t allow myself to experience those emotions the way I normally would have before. This was much tougher on him than on me, and what he needed now was for me to be rock solid for him so he could take the evening to fall apart.
Then, tomorrow, he’d shake it off and go back to work like he always did.
At this point, I’d experienced enough losses with him that we moved through the apartment in silent, well-choreographed dance. I’d just reached for the hall light upon stepping inside when Brent came up behind me.
“Don’t turn them on,” he said, placing his hand over mine. “I just want to sit in the dark.”
“Bed or living room?”
“Bed.”
