Coming Home (Pierpoint View #1)

Chapter Seventeen - Brooks

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Brooks

“Do you think you’ll be back for opening day?”

Fuck, am I an asshole or what?

The way Summer’s voice broke as she asked me that question will be ingrained in my memory for a long fucking time. She was trying not to show it but I’ve spent so much time with her recently that I could tell she was upset.

I knew I let it get too far, and I didn’t want to tell her I was coming back, I was just going to waltz into town, pack my shit and leave again, but she found out I was here and I had to tell her I wouldn’t be back and the look on her face as she tried to be happy for me broke my heart.

This is not where this should’ve gone. I was bored and I thought spending time helping her would make the time go quicker, but I fooled myself into thinking it didn’t mean anything after that first day. I liked spending time with her, getting to know her, but she doesn’t deserve to be treated as second best to my hockey career and thats where it would’ve gone and I couldn’t do that to her. I shouldn’t have led her on, unintentionally or not.

I’m no better than her ex.

I even promised her I’d be there for her opening day, whenever that were to happen, knowing I probably, hopefully, wouldn’t even be here for it if everything went my way.

“I’ll try my best to be here, my schedule will be pretty hectic for a while though. I’ve missed a lot.”

“That’s okay, it will be some time around mid-September, so if you’re able to, I’d love to see you there,” she says, her voice soft, vulnerable.

“Message me when you know for sure and I’ll let you know, I should be able to make something work.”

After telling her that, I feel even worse. I’m giving her false hope that I might be able to make something work and even if I could, I don’t think I would, that would lead her on even more.

Basically, I’ve fucked this all up and I shouldn’t have got involved with her to begin with, especially after learning about her ex. I should’ve left her well alone, knowing I couldn’t be what she needed.

After she left my house and I got in my truck, starting the long drive out to Calgary, I decided that this has to stop. I can’t do this to her, or myself. I’ll be damned if I let this effect my performance on the ice and I’ll be damned if I let her suffer even more than I already have.

What we needed was a clean break before it went any further and thats what this should be. I was in way too deep already with her and I’d have hated if she was in too deep with me already too, just for me to end up fucking her over.

When I went to speak to Grayson earlier this morning about him looking after the property and calling me if anything happened with Lennon, even the smallest thing, he asked me about Summer.

Apparently him and Alex are a thing now and she’s been telling Gray things about Summer that have been making him concerned.

“What are you doing with Summer?”

“What do you mean?” We’re in his apartment above the pub, I think I’ve only ever been in here a couple times, but I know I never saw the women’s clothing hanging in the closet before.

“I mean why is your name coming out of Summer’s mouth?” I guess I haven’t told him, or anyone for that matter, that I’ve been helping her out.

“I was helping her with the cafe.” Is all I say.

“You’ve been doing more than that.”

I technically haven’t and I tell him that.

“Don’t play games with me Brooks, she’s a sweet girl, you need to leave her alone.” He’s using his big brother stern voice on me. I don’t think I’ve seen Gray show this much emotion since he’s come back from deployment and I’m shocked but also relieved it’s in Summer’s honor. She’ll have support when I’m gone at least.

“I’m not playing games. I’m going back to Calgary, I’m cutting it off.”

He nods, “Good. She deserves more than you can give her and I know we hung out all together but that should’ve been it between the two of you,” he states, matter of fact, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey thanks, brother,” Sarcasm lacing every word. I’d forgotten that he’d been helping her out since she got here, mainly because of Alex, but I guess they became friends in that time. “But you’re right.”

“I always am.”

Everything he said was correct and it only solidified my decision of letting her go before it went any further. And by letting her go, I mean leaving like a coward without telling her. Except she saw me, and I’m glad we got to see each other. I think it was the best closure we could have had for not being in a relationship .

Yet here I am acting as if we’re saying goodbye, like I’m going off to war or something, I’m not Grayson, I’m only going to Calgary for fucks sake.

But walking in to Grayson’s bar, I saw him advertising that he’ll be playing all the NHL games at the pub, including pre-season games, and I know if Summer goes, which she will — this is a die hard Calgary Coyotes town because of me after all — she’ll eventually find out that I’ve been hiding this from her.

So maybe I was saying goodbye, knowing that she’d never trust me again, not after she finds out. I was too scared she’d want nothing to do with me if she knew and she was so sure that she couldn’t be with someone like her ex again.

I really am an asshole.

“Fuck!” I slam a hand against the steering wheel.

This 11 hour drive is going to feel a whole lot longer if I carry on like this.

It’s over, it’s done. We had a good week or so. We owe each other nothing, we were nothing.

Even that thought makes me cringe. ‘Nothing’ seems like too little but it’s the only way I’m going to get over her.

I don’t usually drive the whole way back to Calgary without stopping, but I was already later than Coach wanted me to be so I drove straight through, but boy do I regret it and never want to set foot inside that truck for at least another week.

My back aches, my legs ache, my shoulder is aching from it being in the same position for so long and I know that’s going to cause problems training tomorrow. Even my fucking eyeballs ache.

None of this is being helped by the fact I have to lug all my bags up to the 30th floor before I can call it a day. I have half the mind to just leave the bags in the truck but I know I’d regret that in the morning, having been in this exact scenario plenty of times before.

So with that, I heave myself out the truck. I love the piece of shit but those seats are not comfortable on the best of days, never mind on that long of a drive.

As the elevator dings, signaling my arrival, I feel a buzz in my pocket. No doubt it’s from Coach reaming me out for not being at training today, or my agent. I’ve been ignoring their calls and texts all day and I do the same now.

My apartment is one of two on this floor, the other owned by an older couple who sometimes play their TV too loud but other than that are the ideal neighbors, especially because the husband, Gerald, is an Edmonton fan which means he has no interest in me being his neighbor, which he’s made abundantly clear, especially when we beat them last season.

As I unlock my door and head inside, it’s never been more stark how different my life is out here than back home. All gray walls, marble features, metals and the view out the floor to ceiling windows is of basically the whole city, not the jagged cliffs and rolling waves like in Pierpoint.

I don’t know what I prefer most. This place reminds me of who I am now, what I’ve earned, the effort I’ve put in to get here, but my house in Pierpoint, that’s home. That’s who I was, where I came from and my family’s there.

Shaking the thought out of my head because there’s no point deliberating on that, and head to my bedroom, not even bothering to turn any lights on. It’s already 1AM, training starts at 8 and with the time difference it’s going to suck getting an adequate amount of sleep, even if it is only an hour ahead here.

I throw my bag onto the floor of my walk in closet with a thud, strip down to just my underwear, leaving a trail of clothes in my wake as I head to the king size bed, flopping down onto my back, eyes closed.

It’s comfier than the one I’ve been using for the last 2 months and I relax into it ready to just pass out, only to hear my phone buzz again, still in the pocket of my pants in the middle of the floor.

I groan, knowing I have to get it and I should really check how messaged earlier. It could be Grayson, or Lennon and I promised to be more available for them. If it’s Harvey though, I’m going to be pissed.

I haul myself up, barely getting to my feet, just enough to lean over and pull my pants closer to reach the pocket, fishing my phone out. In my exhaustion, I drop the fucking thing and it nearly bounces under the bed and I almost say fuck it and leave it there.

Phone in hand, I get under the covers and lay there, savoring the silk sheets, mustering up the energy to look at the messages.

The first message is from Coach, of course. Telling me I’m fired if I don’t show up to training tomorrow. The second is from a number I haven’t got saved in my phone but from our previous messages, I see its Summer.

I hope the drive isn’t too bad and you get home safe.

I type back, Just got home, it was exhausting.

I didn’t have to answer, I could’ve left it but I’m a sucker.

Isn’t there a time difference? You should probably get some sleep. Her reply was instant.

My eyes are closing of their own accord, so I call her instead.

It only rings a couple times before its answered and an accented voice, laced with sleep answers.

“Brooks? You should sleep,” she says, and all of sudden I don’t feel tired. This was a bad idea.

“You started it, Princess.” I shouldn’t be teasing. This is not what constitutes a clean break. “How else were you supposed to know I was home safe.” I lean back against the pillow, maybe or maybe not imagining she’s next to me and not speaking to me from another province.

She lets out a small giggle. “Because you already text me saying you were.” I can just imagine her curled up under the covers in her bed, wearing the cute pajama set with the stripes and puppies over them. My mind flashes back to the memory of walking in on her wearing those in her apartment.

Maybe I should knock from now on.

NO.

There is no ‘from now on’. It’s done. This phone call was a lapse in self control. I’ll start again tomorrow.

“That could’ve been anyone,” I answer.

“But it wasn’t, it was you.” It’s like I can hear the smile in her voice.

“You didn’t know that.”

A small but dramatic sigh sounds over the phone. “I guess you’re right.”

I should end the call now, say goodnight and ignore the temporary lapse in judgment but I’m too comfy, too tired, enjoying her voice too much to make any good decisions right now.

“What have you been doing the rest of the day?” Since I left.

“I hired your sister. ”

Immediately I perk up, “My sister? Why?” I ask. I’ve told her about the trouble we’ve been having with her, I would’ve thought that would put a potential employer off hiring her.

“Many reasons Brooks. Because she’s a good worker, she’s great with customers, she’s polite…” she trails off and with a softer, quieter voice, she says, “and because you’re worried about her.”

I frown. “What does that have anything to do with it?” I ask, confused. I can hear her shuffling around on the side of the phone.

“I can keep an eye on her, she’ll be here full time. And you said that it’s stressful worrying about work as well as Lennon and I thought it would make it easier on you if I took care of one of those things for you.” I can just imagine her shrugging, wringing her hands together, tucking her hair behind her ears, something she does when she’s nervous.

She’s right that knowing Lennon will have someone like Summer looking out for her does take a weight off my shoulders.

“Thank you.” And I’ve never been more sincere.

“You’re welcome, Brooks.”

Hearing my name roll of her tongue while I’m laying in bed, exhausted, after she’s just told me she’ll take care of my baby sister.

If things were different, I swear I’d wife this girl up in a heartbeat and that realization is why I have to cut this short.

“I should head to sleep, I have work early.”

If she catches on to my purposeful change of topic, she doesn’t let on.

“Okay, goodnight Brooks.”

“Goodbye, Princess.”