Page 81 of Hat Trick Daddies

Tyler whistles low, glancing at Brooks. “You sure about this?”

Brooks doesn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the phone. “I’ll handle it,” he says quietly. “Just…trust me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Brooks

I stare at my phone,the screen glowing in the dimly lit living room.

The reply is right there in black and white, and it feels like it’s staring back at me, taunting me. Pete’s. In two hours.

My hands are shaking. Whether it’s adrenaline or rage, I can’t tell. Tyler and Nick are sitting across the room, watching me like hawks.

“You’re not going alone,” Tyler says, breaking the silence.

I shake my head, my voice firm. “I have to. I don’t need this turning into a scene.”

Nick leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’re shaking like a damn leaf, Brooks. Go hit the bag for a bit. Get some of that tension out before you go.”

“Otherwise, you’re gonna kill them the second you see them,” Tyler adds, smirking slightly, though his eyes are serious.

I nod reluctantly, standing up and collecting my crutches. “Fine. I’ll be back in twenty.”

Down in the basement I flick on the overhead light, its hum filling the quiet space as I approach the sandbag hanging in the corner. The leather surface is scuffed and worn from years of use, but it’s sturdy, ready to take whatever I throw at it.

I square up, my fists clenched tightly, and deliver the first punch. The impact reverberates up my arm, the bag swinging slightly before settling. Another punch. Then another. Each strike is harder, more forceful than the last.

I had wondered if I could actually punch with any force with a brace on one leg, but turns out I’m not half bad, even with only one healthy knee.

The sound of my fists meeting the bag echoes in the room, a steadythwack, thwack, thwack.

Sweat beads on my forehead, dripping down the sides of my face as I lose myself in the rhythm. My knuckles throb against the firm surface, but I don’t stop. The bag swings wildly now, my kicks adding to the momentum, each strike carrying the weight of my frustration, my anger, my fear.

When I finally stop, my chest is heaving, my shirt soaked through with sweat. I brace my hands on my knees, staring down at the floor as I catch my breath. For a moment, the world feels a little quieter.

Back upstairs, I hobble straight for the shower. It’s grounding, but only just.

I towel off quickly, pulling on a pair of joggers and a black jacket. Something simple, unassuming. I wince as I adjust the huge leg brace on my bad leg. It’s not subtle, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

As I lace the boot I slipped onto my uninjured foot, Tyler leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

“We’re serious, Brooks. Let us come with you. You only have one good leg right now.”

I shake my head, grabbing my keys from the counter. “If Ally shows up while I’m gone, I want someone here to let her in. She’ll like seeing you guys.”

That finally shuts them up. Tyler nods reluctantly, and Nick claps me on the shoulder as I head for the door. “Be careful.”

The city lights blur past as I drive through downtown, the low rumble of the engine filling the silence. I’m grateful that my left knee was hurt so that I can still drive myself around.

The skyline looms overhead, a mix of glowing windows and dark shadows against the night sky. It’s beautiful, but I barely notice. My mind is elsewhere, replaying every possible scenario of how this could go down.

When I pull up outside Pete’s, the neon sign flickers against the weathered brick exterior.

The parking lot is half-full, and the muffled sound of music and conversation spills out into the cool night air as I step out of the car. The smell of cigarette smoke lingers near the entrance, mingling with the scent of spilled beer.

The bouncer nods at me as I approach, his eyes lingering for a second before he steps aside to let me in. My crutches thud softly against the floor as I make my way to the bar, my eyes scanning the room for any sign of the person I’m supposed to meet.

But no one stands out. No one’s looking at me or acting suspicious. The uncertainty makes my skin crawl, a prickling sensation running down my spine.

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