Page 72 of The Sweet Spot

“I have a date with my friends tonight,” Wolseley said. “So I’m going to leave the two of you to your fun and cleaning.”

“I will see you Sunday, right? We have to celebrate with the birthday boy,” Brooke said.

“You bet.”

She gave me a quick kiss, grabbed her coat, and was gone. Brooke and I watched her go, and when I turned to my sister, a silly grin was on her face.

“You so love her,” she said, slapping my arm with a dish towel.

“I do like her a lot,” I said, my heart bursting a little at the thought.

Brooke grabbed the plate she’d set aside and piled more tiramisu on it. We sat back down at the island, and she reached out and squeezed my hand.

“She’s the yin to your yang.”

I rolled my eyes. “Really? That’s what you come up with?”

“I’m not wrong. She’s a firebug who can light up a room. You are … not. She can make people laugh, and you … don’t. The one thing you both have is a huge heart, and I see how you complement each other. I still can’t believe you went to a drag show.”

“I’m going to be thirty tomorrow. And for most of my life, I—we—have been under our parents’ thumbs. That’s not happening anymore. I want to find out who I am, and I’m finding that out with Wolseley. That means doing things I normally wouldn’t think to do.”

“I have that with Phoebe, so I understand. Why do youthink I moved so far away? Hell, I would have gone to Greenland to get away from them. Despite how hard they tried to fuck us up, we are going to come out okay.”

I thought about Christmas with my parents and what Wolseley had to endure. Brooke knew all about it, and, of course, she understood.

“Bailey seems to have them figured out too. He’s also the baby, so maybe that’s why he gets a pass.”

Brooke and I were less than two years apart, but Bailey had come a lot later. Maybe by then, Dad had mellowed out a bit, but Bailey still got his fair share of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse. He may have been Dad’s favorite, but Bailey still had to meet expectations. Meanwhile, Dad made my life a living hell and didn’t hold much back for Brooke either.

I tapped the rim of my water glass, thinking about shit I wanted to forget. I glanced up at Brooke, and she was focused on her dessert.

“Is it wrong of me to not want to patch things up with them?”

Her spoon stopped mid-scoop. “No.”

I nodded, satisfied. “Good. Because my last correspondence with them was to say that I had no intentions of speaking to them again until they both apologized to Wolseley. Mom’s reply was that they had nothing to apologize for.”

Brooke laughed sarcastically. “You know, I’ve been in therapy a long time. One thing I’ve learned is that sometimes you have to give up the toxic people in your life. Mom and Dad are toxic. No, worse. They are nuclear waste. I know they don’t see it, and that’s their problem, but if the three of us want to have normal lives, we need to set boundaries. I think you finally set yours, and I’m proud of you. You should think about therapy too. It’s not a weakness.”

“It’s funny you mention it, because Wolseley said the samething. I have been thinking about it, and I’ve done a bit of it in the past. I need to live a better life, you know?”

“I know,” she said. “And from what I can see, you’re already on that path to a better life.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Wolseley

Ihad fully intended to have dinner with Brooke and Brandon for his very subdued birthday—he insisted we not make a big deal about it—on Sunday evening, then let them spend Monday together, Brooke’s last full day in town, but Brandon wanted me to come along on his tour of Vancouver. We had a great time visiting Stanley Park after we watched the Kodiaks practice. We then ate lunch at a great little Greek restaurant I’d heard about. After that, we did a walk through the neighborhood, and by the time we got back to Brandon’s place, we were all exhausted.

I headed home, but before that wished Brooke a safe trip back to Toronto. She’d embraced me into her life as much as their parents hadn’t. I was convinced that Brooke and Brandon made it their mission not to be anything like their parents, which was an excellent plan.

Brooke flew out early Tuesday morning, and Brandon told me to skip breakfast because he was heading to Graham Place for practice right after that. I made Ryan’s breakfast, which Delia picked up from my place, then I headed over to Brandon’s to start prepping his early lunch and then his pregame meal. I had so much I wanted to talk to him about now that Brooke was gone, but it could wait until after that night’s game.

I told Delia I didn’t need her for her Wednesday mid-morning shift. I had reserved that time to finally have a conversation with Brandon, the conversation I’d been wanting to have with him since getting back from Minnesota, and I didn’t want Delia around for that.

Brandon slept in a little longer than normal because Coach Anthony had made it an optional skate that day. Brandon wanted the day off. I prepped breakfast for him and Ryan, and Delia came to get it. She was already gone when I heard the door to Brandon’s room open. He wandered into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat down at the island and froze. He stared down at Jan’s invoices.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, suddenly wide awake.

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