Page 88 of Slap Shot Daddies

>> Hey, man. You around? Need to talk about something.

The screen lights up almost instantly, casting a blue glow in the dim room.

>> Yeah, what’s up?

My fingers hover over the keyboard, uncertainty weighing them down before I finally type.

>> Can we meet? Burger Barn?

There's a pause, and I can feel my heartbeat quickening, a drumroll in my chest.

The text appears on the screen quickly.

>> Sure. 7?

>> Perfect. Thanks.

I exhale deeply, the tension slowly leaving my body.

Still, the clock on the wall shows 6:30, urging me to move.

I snatch my car keys from the kitchen counter and push open the front door. I pull my coat inward as I hit the cold air, sharp and invigorating, while the comforting smell of woodsmoke drifts from a neighbor’s chimney.

Could we really make it work, the way Brooks and his crew do?

The vision forms in my mind. Us living in a cozy house, raising a child or two. Family dinners laden with laughter and stories. Weekend trips to new places.

A shared life full of moments and memories.

I pull into the Burger Barn parking lot. As soon as I open the car door, my stomach grumbles.

Brooks stands casually against his car, arms crossed over his chest. The soft neon light highlights the weary lines etched around his eyes, but his face brightens with a genuine smile when he spots me.

"Reggie. What’s going on?" he calls out, his voice warm and inviting.

I attempt a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. "Needed to talk to someone who…understands," I reply, my voice tinged with apprehension.

His eyebrows arch slightly in curiosity, but he doesn't press for more. "C’mon, let’s grab a booth," he suggests, gesturing toward the entrance.

Inside, the air is fragrant with the mouthwatering blend of burgers, fries, and milkshakes. The sizzle of frying food crackles from the open kitchen, punctuating the low murmur of conversations that fill the diner.

As I slide into the red vinyl booth, it clings to my jacket with a hushed squeak.

Brooks takes charge, ordering for both of us. Double cheeseburgers, crispy fries, and two rich chocolate malts.

The waitress moves swiftly, her pen scratching against the notepad as she captures our order.

Once she departs, I lean forward, lowering my voice. "Look…I know about you, Ally, Nick, and Tyler," I confess, my heart pounding in my chest.

Brooks freezes momentarily, his eyes narrowing before he lets out a soft laugh. "Figured you’d catch on eventually," he admits, a hint of amusement in his tone.

I exhale, feeling a weight lift. "I need advice. About…us. Me, Ambrose, Braden…and Kenzie," I confess, the names tumbling out in a rush.

Brooks lets out a low whistle, shaking his head with a knowing grin. "Well, shit," he says, a twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to the club."

I lean forward, elbows resting on the sticky red table, the tacky surface clinging slightly to my skin. My voice is low, almosta whisper, laced with urgency. “Mate, I need help. I’m bloody lost here.”

Brooks sits across from me, his expression softening with concern as he nods. “Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.”

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