Coming Home (Pierpoint View #1)

Chapter Seven - Brooks

CHAPTER SEVEN

Brooks

John and Stevie have only ever come to my place once, and that was to pick up some of Lennon’s old things. When my parents up and left to move out East, they sold the house and I had no choice but to take all the belongings that were left and keep them at my place to keep them safe. Gray was working somewhere he wasn’t allowed to tell me, and Lennon was too young, she was 17, still in high school. I was 20, just been drafted, got my three year contract and a signing bonus that I would laugh at now, but back then I thought I’d hit gold.

If there was anything that my parent’s taught me, it was to be financially responsible, so the first thing I bought with that money was this house. It did, however, give my parent’s the green light to move nearly 5 hours away by plane, without consulting any of us kids.

At that point, I offered Lennon to live here, she declined. She didn’t want to live by herself so far out of town which I get, especially for a young girl, so she moved in with her best friend Emily and her parents; the Taylors.

I owe them a whole lot for keeping up with Lennon, she’s a handful, always has been, so when they say we need to talk about Lennon, I’m all ears.

I brew some coffee for me and some peppermint tea for John and Stevie, apparently the town has come to a consensus that caffeine after midday is bad for them?

As I place the mugs on the coffee table, my shoulder pulls and a sharp pain travels down my arm and I grit my teeth. Sometimes I forget about my injuries until flashes of pain catch me off guard it reminds me of what I could be losing.

“I know you’re back under not so great circumstances, but it sure is nice to have you back, Brooks,” Stevie says, breaking off a piece of a muffin the two had brought with them and placing it delicately in his mouth.

I’d already drunk half my coffee before sitting down, sleeping not coming easy with the stress of not playing. From the look he’s giving me though, I’m kind of wishing I made enough for another cup as I look at the remnants sitting at the bottom of the mug my sister painted when she was maybe 11 years old. It’s secretly my favorite and I bring it out to Calgary when I head back for the season.

In the early afternoon light filtering through the bay windows, you can see the gray in John’s dark hair and the wrinkles around both their eyes, their age finally showing. I know they’re both older than they like to tell people, in fact it’s a running joke around town that these two are actually in their 80’s.

John and Stevie have been my saviors really, they’re the best guys I could ask for to look after my sister. Stevie’s more friendly, affectionate, where as John is more no nonsense, factual, the best kind of parent’s to be dealing with Lennon. My parent’s were great with Lennon; if you counted spoiling my sister and giving her everything she could ask for as great. She was the first and only girl, who just so happens to be the youngest and that showed in how they treated her.

“I won’t be here for long, hopefully. I’m hoping to get back for the start of the season,” I reply and John and Stevie share a glance. With my lack of sleep, these injuries which could result in my career tanking, those pitying glances and the fact something is wrong with Lennon, I’m already on the defensive before this conversation even starts.

“Well, I think it will be good for Lennon, we think she could use some guidance from you. She doesn’t really seem to have a path right now,” Stevie says after finishing his last mouthful.

“Well she just finished high school—”

Stevie cuts me off, “Over a year ago, Brooks. She refused college as you know, she’s still working part time at the bookstore…”

That doesn’t sound so bad.

“What Stevie is saying Brooks,” John interjects, “Lennon hasn’t shown an interest in becoming an adult. She’s now going out to the clubs in the city every weekend, she’s hanging around with a group of friends that Emily doesn’t even know. Hell, we had to go pick her up from the police station—”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?!” I almost fly out of my seat.

John was getting more and more riled up as his rant went on, but all I can focus on is my baby sister at a club 2 hours away from here, getting drunk, taking only God knows what, getting put in a holding cell. I know the kind of people in those places, hell I’ve been one of those people, and I don’t want to think of Lennon there at all.

“We told you we’d look after her Brooks and we are, but we can’t do much more for her. She’s an adult, and now that Emily’s back for the summer, even she’s concerned; it’s like they’re two strangers,” Stevie says.

I look at them both, sitting across from me with their matching quarter zip sweaters, Stevie’s in gray, John’s black, and I can see the stress she’s giving them. It must not be just age that’s catching up to them and I feel awful that I’ve left it to them to figure out when she’s my family.

“I’ll figure this out, you have my word.” I scrub a hand through my hair and down my face, desperately wishing I had another cup of coffee handy… maybe something stronger actually. “How did she end up at the police station?” I ask, exhausted from this conversation, this day even, already.

“Luckily, it wasn’t anything to do with her. Wrong place, wrong time, someone she was with got in a fight.”

Fucking hell. If I make her move in here, she’ll have no one when I’m away from town, but I can’t let her do this to John and Stevie, not when they’ve done so much for her already and she’s just throwing it back in their face.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before? You know I’ll always come back if something happens.”

“She got worse as you entered the Stanley Cup, we couldn’t pull you away from that,” John responds, lacing his fingers with Stevie’s and resting them on his lap.

“My family will always come first, John. I’d rather be here.”

“We know Brooks, but you can’t let what Lennon’s doing, mess with your life too. I mean look at you now, you’re injured and you’re acting as if it’s the end of the world.” Stevie is trying to lighten the mood, make a joke, but he’s right. I am acting as if this injury is the end of the world, when in the grand scheme of things, it’s not. My sister throwing her life away is though .

I look at them both, pleading with my eyes for them not to give up on her just yet, “I promise I will figure this out, I’ll speak to her later this week.”

They both give me the same consolatory smiles, “We know you’ll try your best.” I think that might have been a slight dig at me but I brush it off anyway, I probably deserved it.

John and Stevie stayed for a little while longer, they caught me up on all the gossip from the town; I’ve been here a month and I’ve barely left the house, except to go to the pub.

They tell me all about the new girl, Summer, and how she’s opening a coffee shop or bakery or something in the empty store beneath her apartment and about how Fred has taken her under his wing and seems to really like her.

Since she moved here, she’s only been mentioned to me a couple times, which I suppose is good. The less I’ve heard about her means she hasn’t heard about me all that much either, I can’t trust people too easily when they just show up out of nowhere into town.

It’s evening now, and Grayson and I are parked outside Summer’s place in my truck, Grayson smoking out the window, but it’s making the inside of the truck stink. After speaking to John and Stevie I met Grayson at the pub to talk about Lennon, even he seemed worried which is saying a lot, he’s usually pretty checked out from this type of thing.

“Hey, cut it out.” I hit him in the arm, making him jump.

“Fuck off.” He grunts out, pulling his ball cap lower over his freshly shaved head. He cuts it every week or so, a habit now I guess.

Just as I’m about to retort, there’s a knock on the drivers door.

“Now, you boys got the materials from Marcus for those shelves you boys are makin’?” Fred didn’t give us a choice in this matter, turns out not only is the whole town a sucker for this girl but I’m a sucker now too, running errands for Little Miss Summer. I was only entangled in this because Grayson needed the truck bed and I refused to let him drive it.

“Yes, Sir.” I mock, saluting at the same time.

Fred rolls his eyes, and swings my door open. “Get out then.”

I’m surprised Fred is even letting this happen, letting Summer open up this coffee shop. He’s been so protective of that space since Chrissy died. He even went as far as to make sure John and Stevie don’t lease it out to just any old person.

Even Grayson seems to be warming to Summer which is normally unheard of. He’s aloof, cold, distant, he doesn’t trust easy. Ask Alex, took him near enough 8 months for him to open up to her enough that she can help him, and even then I think that’s only because he fancies the shit out of her and is too afraid to do anything about it.

I keep the windows rolled down, it’s hot out and the A/C doesn’t work, and hop down from the truck and my knee jolts with the impact. Every step, every movement, is a constant reminder of those injuries, a constant reminder of what I could lose if these injuries don’t get better and soon.

Today is not a good day for me. My knee is so fucking painful today after I went too hard in the gym yesterday and after my talk with John and Stevie, my agent called reminding me once again that I have to keep up the bachelor stereotype and need to be seen out in the city and now I’m stuck running errands for a girl I don’t even know. I am not in a good mood .

Grayson following after me and stomps his cigarette out.

“Alex is goin’ to smell that on ya, kid,” Fred remarks.

Now it’s Gray’s turn to roll his eyes, but I can see that the comment got to him. He brushes his hands down his maroon tee, smoothing the wrinkles and readjusts his cap again, before wiping his hands on his old, fading jeans.

“You didn’t tell me Alex would be here.”

“Just leavin’. She was droppin’ something off for Summer.”

As though she was summoned, Alex leaves the front door of the store, a huge smile spreading across her face as she spots us. Well… spots Grayson. Gaia follows behind her, noticing Grayson as well, making a bee line straight for him, tail wagging ferociously.

“Hey guys, didn’t think I’d see you today,” Alex says with a tilt of her head, though it’s more of a question aimed at Grayson if her gaze is anything to go by.

“I didn’t think we would either,” Gray answers, avoiding Alex’s gaze by continuing to pet Gaia.

“Well, I’m happy I did… do I smell cigarettes, Grayson?”

I let the two argue that out between themselves and bring my attention to Fred who’d been inspecting the items in the bed of the truck.

“Fred, are we bringing this in now?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t think we have the room.”

I frown. “Then why the hell did you go make me pick this up today?” I’m frustrated, and rightfully so after the day I’ve had already.

It’s now mid-August, pre-season training would have been starting this month and I still don’t know if I’m going to be playing in October. If I don’t make it to pre-season, I definitely won’t be which fucking sucks. And I should be focusing on getting stronger, healing, not helping Fred with errands for this girl that no one knows fuck-all about but is taking up everyone’s time when they all have their own businesses to deal with. The tourists are here in full swing, everyone is busy, yet everyone is doing shit for this coffee shop.

Lennon is a loose canon right now too and I don’t know how to help her and it’s giving me more stress than I would like to admit and I’d rather be dealing with that, than be here.

“Because we’ll need it at some point,” is Fred’s only answer.

“Well where the hell am I going to put this in the meantime!” I’m nearly shouting. Despite my attitude recently, it’s not like me, but everything is really taking its toll on me.

“Don’t be raising your voice at me, son. You can keep ‘em in your truck ‘til we need ‘em.” Now Fred’s getting irritated.

“And what? Waste more of my time tomorrow? The next day?”

“Be grateful you have something keeping you busy, Brooks,” he warns.

“I don’t need to be busy doing this shit for some girl I don’t even know! I have my own shit to do!” I’ve captured the attention of Alex and Grayson now, Grayson has a scowl on his face, and Gaia’s standing guard in front of Alex. Loyal fucking dog.

Fred steps forward, inches from me, and with a low voice, says, “This is what we do here, Brooks. You know this. We look after our own.”

I take a deep breath, something my team’s therapist keeps telling me to do when I actually attend the online video calls she schedules.

Deep down, I know I’m being a dick.

“Whatever, just call me when you need it,” I say, walking round to the driver’s side door. “Gray, you coming?”

Just as my hand reaches for the door handle, Fred calls, “Brooks, we need your help anyway, regardless of the shelves.”

I lean my forehead on the truck, the blue metal burning my skin.

“If you’re busy you don’t have to be here,” A voice calls from behind.

It’s Summer, of course. She probably heard the whole thing and now I probably seem even more of a dick to her than after the last time we spoke.

“I’m not busy.” I almost groan like a fucking child. I begrudgingly pull myself away from the truck and walk towards her and the shop.

Gone is the white dress and the bow in her long, dark hair from when I saw her through the window the other day, now she’s wearing overalls that are way too big with some boots, covered in dust and paint, a complete juxtaposition.

This version of her reminds me of the girl I first met, irate and soaked to the bone. She doesn’t seem too pleased about my being here, there’s a scowl on her face and her hands are tucked in her pockets as she’s leaning on the door frame.

“I’m ready to work, where do you want me?” I ask, brushing past her into the store.

She follows close behind and it’s almost as if I can feel her scrutinizing stare.

“You don’t want to be here and I don’t want you to resent me for being here, so you can go.”

It’s a strong statement, said with conviction. I turn and see her glaring at me with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Fred asked me to help. I’m helping.” I cross my arms too and we’re silent after that, waiting for the first one to crack.

After a good 10 seconds, her arms finally fall slacken at her sides and she looks me dead in the eye. Her blue eyes almost gray.

“Well, I didn’t ask you to help,” she says, standing her ground. Good, I’m impressed she has a back bone, but I’m taken aback at her words.

“Look, I’m not arguing with you. That man’s like a father to me and he asked, I’m here. Now put me to work.”