Coming Home (Pierpoint View #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three - Brooks

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Brooks

Its been a busy week. Our first game of the regular season was tough, we were winning after the first period, second period we got our asses kicked but once the last period came, we got back on our feet and beat them by three, which is a great start to the season. The feeling of getting that last puck in the net, hearing the crowd roar was everything I’ve missed.

The after party was even better, the whole team went to the bar and celebrated our win, Jax left almost immediately with a pair of twins and Tobias and I took it easy, the both of us swearing off alcohol until Christmas.

Despite enjoying hanging with the guys, I headed home about 2 hours in, not wanting to be too late so I could still catch Summer before she went to bed. She’s been going to bed earlier now that she has to be up to bake for the cafe.

She didn’t answer and I assumed she’d already fallen asleep, so I sent her a message, hoping she’d answer when she woke up.

She didn’t. She also hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts any day since the night of the game either and it’s causing a pit in my stomach .

I haven’t had a chance to even sleep properly let alone be able to get to the bottom of what’s going on with her; we’ve had four games this week and now it’s Sunday night and I have a whole day tomorrow to get shit done before we have to fly out to our next game.

The guys wanted to go out tonight because of our free day tomorrow, but the thought of going out with them, having to deal with the puck bunnies that are out in full force, while I still haven’t heard from Summer all week, doesn’t sit right with me.

I called her once already but its 6PM for her and I know that she’s probably still closing up the cafe for the day. So instead of sitting around and waiting for her to call again, I get changed, swapping my after game clothes to gray sweats and a tee, then grab some chips and a non-alcoholic beer.

I slump down on the couch, clicking the button on the remote to close the curtains to stop the glare from the setting sun on the TV screen. I record all our games, commentaries and all, so I can watch my plays, see how I’m doing on the ice, while also seeing what people are saying about me off the ice.

I bring up our first game, absently scrolling my phone as I watch, it’s always good to hear peoples opinions even if they do tell me I suck, because there’s usually a basis for what they’re saying.

I get through the first period, I was lacking a little in speed but overall my passes and overall performance seemed great, but I tune in a little more when the commentators start talking, turning the volume up.

“Despite Freeman just coming back from his injuries, you can say he’s had a hell of a good few weeks.”

I look a closer look at the screen and see a blurry picture, it’s dark but you can still make out the two people sitting in a booth going at it as if they were the only two people in the room.

“Yeah, I’m glad he’s back on the ice because if I saw this photo and he wasn’t starting this season, I’d be pissed as hell. Maybe hold off on the girls and actually get healing, you know?”

My agent must be eating this shit up right now. Where the hell did that photo even come from? I mean, I know where and what happened with that girl, Clara, Flora, something with an A at the end, was something I was trying to forget, especially after how good things are going with Summer. Were going with Summer. I still feel guilty about not telling her about my job, things are, or were, just going so well and I can’t ruin it, not yet. It’s selfish, I know, but I just can’t do it, I can’t lose her.

I check my phone again, still no calls or messages from her.

I carry on watching, not entirely happy about that little indiscretion being played out for all the world to see, especially my family and friends back in Pierpoint.

“Looking at Brooks Freeman right now, you’d never think he had a near career ending injury for the last couple months. It’s a miracle he’s even here today.”

It is a miracle and I am really impressed with my performance and I’m glad it can be seen and appreciated by others.

The game starts back up again and I try calling Summer for the second time, and it goes straight to voicemail so I type out a message for her to call me back just for Gray’s name to pop up.

I answer it, turning the volume of the game down. “ What’s up, big brother?”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” is all he says. I don’t think I’ve heard him this angry at me in a while.

“Well hello to you too. What the fuck, Gray?” I ask confused.

“I told you she deserved better. Now, I have Alex crying to me about how she won’t even talk to her anymore.” He’s still not talking any sense to me.

“Gray—”

“No!” He shouts, “You listen to me, asshole. I told you to stay away from Summer. I told you to do the right thing and you couldn’t fucking do that. Alex is upset and you need to make it right.”

I feel the blood draining from my face, “What happened?”

“You didn’t tell her you played hockey and you knew that, and for some reason I don’t know, that’s a deal breaker for her.”

“I didn’t tell her because it was a deal breaker.” Is my only answer.

“You really are an asshole. Are all those hits to your head finally getting to you?” I sit up, turning the game off.

“What the fuck—”

“You think she wouldn’t find out?” he interrupts.

“I was waiting to tell her—” I scrub a hand down my face, into my hair.

“Until when?”

I’m lost for words, no answer coming to me, “I— I don’t know.”

“Well I think anything would’ve been better for her than sitting in a room full of all the people you know, watching you making out with a whore in a bar before watching you skate around the ice as if you hadn’t been lying to her the whole fucking time. As if we hadn’t been lying to her the whole time.”

Wait. “She watched the game?” She’s never watched a game in her life and the first one she watches is my first game back?

I’m secretly a little proud of that.

“Yes. And now she’s not talking to the rest of the town because we all kept it from her and I’m not having Alex coming to my apartment crying anymore. Fix it.”

I knew this would come to a head eventually and this is exactly why I didn’t want to carry on whatever we had between us.

“I don’t know how to do that, I can’t leave, I have a game.”

Grayson scoffs, “I don’t care. Just fix it.” And then he hangs up.

I take a second to collect my thoughts. Summer found out, probably in the worst way she could’ve, I didn’t tell her and obviously by the sounds of it no one else did either — which I have to give major props to everyone because they promised they’d never tell anyone and they didn’t — although if there was one person they could’ve told, it would’ve been her.

Now she probably thinks I don’t trust her, that the town doesn’t trust her and that’s what I was afraid of. I was warring with myself about whether her spending time with me, getting to know me, getting to like me, would be enough to negate the fact that I was a hockey player or telling her straight off the bat would get her to trust me and that would be enough to keep her around.

I guess I took too long and I fucked around and found out anyway, hurting her in the process.

I shut the TV off and lean forward, resting my head in my hands.

“Fuck!” I throw my phone on the couch next to me. I knew this would happen, I’m not an idiot, but I just never thought about what would happen when it did.

That has to be why she’s not answering, but I don’t have the time to go see her in person, I only have a free day tomorrow, which really isn’t free because we have training and I have interviews and a brand shoot, and then I have back to back games for another week.

Even with Summer’s past, this is the number one reason I didn’t want to start something with her, or anyone for that matter. I just don’t have the time and that’s always been my philosophy.

I pick my phone back up, trying Summer one more time.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” At least it’s ringing this time. When she inevitably doesn’t answer, I leave a voicemail.

“Summer, I know what happened, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you. Please call me back.”

I know it’s not going to make a difference, if she’s shutting out the entire town then there is no way in hell she’ll be opening the door to me anytime soon.

In a last ditch effort, I call Fred.

“Boy, you better be callin’ me to apologize,” he answers on the first ring.

“I am. She’s not answering the phone.”

He scoffs. “Of course she’s not. She’s not answerin’ anyone thanks to you.”

“I know, Grayson just called. He’s worried about Alex.”

“ Well I’m worried about Summer. Just tell me, Brooks, what the hell were you thinking?” he asks and I don’t know what to say because I don’t know how to explain what I was thinking. In my head, it sounded right at the time to not tell her.

“I was selfish—”

“You sure fucking were.”

“Hey, I know I’m in the wrong but you guys didn’t say anything to her either.”

“Don’t you push that on us! And I sure as hell hope you didn’t call just to pass the blame.”

I’m not used to being the one to blame, framed in a negative light, I’m the towns golden boy and I’m getting defensive.

Nevertheless, I let out a slow breath, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her, or you guys.”

“Apology accepted, you need to fix it, kid.”

“I know, but I can’t come out there and she’s not answering my calls.”

He sighs, “So that’s why you called. You want me to fix it.”

“No, I just want you to talk to her about you guys, leave me out of it. Alex is her best friend, you’re like a parent to her. She needs you, and I know she’ll listen to you.”

After all, once she knows that they promised to be loyal to me to keep my privacy she can’t be too mad at them, can’t blame them. I’ll have a harder job getting her to forgive me once I shoulder all the blame but at least she’ll have the support of her closest friends.