Page 20 of Your Secret to Keep

I think back to the first birthday without my parents. It still stings when I put myself back in that year. “I was twelve. I’m going to be twenty-seven soon. So… fifteen years.”

“You’ve been choking down chocolate cake for a decade and a half!” Brooks laughs and it’s quiet but shakes his shoulders. “What is your favorite?”

“Carrot cake. With cream cheese frosting. My mouth is watering thinking about it,” I answer, shimmying my shoulders with excitement.

“Me too. Completely underrated pick.” He smiles as his eyes land on mine. It’s infuriating how he can pull me to him like this with a single glance. His eyes are like the bottom of a honey pot.

“Your turn,” I say, reaching for my glass of water.

Brooks rubs his hands together, shaking them out before stretching his neck, his head dipping side to side. “When I found out that Zack was my brother, I was afraid to meet him—not for any reason other than I thought he wouldn’t like me. I was worried we wouldn’t get along or he wouldn’t think I measured up.”

Definitely leaning towards the heavier.

“Zack Andersen? The man is like a walking golden retriever,” I say, placing my hands on the table and making a noise borderline too loud.

“I know. I mean, that’s what the media showed, but people put on a good act.”

“Fair. And I hate to tell you this, especially because I know your ego is already inflated from another notch in the win column, but you’re kind of a big deal.” I emphatically roll my eyes before they land on his face.

“Sometimes it still doesn’t feel like enough.” His voice fades from the strong, confident person sitting across from me until it’s small enough to fit in my pocket.

“For who?”

“Me. The team. The fans. Take your pick.” Brooks shrugs his shoulders before he coughs, getting passed the shakiness in his voice.

This hits me. Hard. The idea of this professional athlete, a multi-millionaire, doing the thing he’s probably dreamt of his whole life, and still not being sure if he’s living up to the standard.

It’s like he’s pulling back the curtain from one of the things I keep deep inside myself—the idea of enough. How much of myself can I give to meet expectations? Do I evenhaveenough to measure up?

This can’t be easy for him to share. I don’t say anything but reach over and squeeze his fingers. He squeezes them back and then our hands sort of stay like that—intertwined on top of the table—until they drop off our food.

“This looks… wow.” I’m practically drooling as I scan the table, which is full of a variety of tacos, tostadas, and mini chimichangas.

Brooks claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Make sure you get a bite of all three of those tacos. That’s your first assignment.”

When he ordered everything I had no idea what the end game was, but I love that we’re going to be eating it family style, even though it’s only the two of us. I’ve never been one to hesitate when it comes to sharing food, but I know that’s not always the case.

“Wait, I just thought of something,” I exclaim, my hand hovering above the shrimp taco I’ve had my eye on since the server set it on the table. “Did you sneak a date out of me?” It’s wildly apparent that we’re in a dim room, sharing a meal.

Brooks shakes his head, his mouth full with a bite of tostada. He finishes chewing and says, “No.” He shakes his head, the middle of his brow scrunched. “Truly, you showed up for me before the game and I wanted to say thank you.”

I nod with the shrimp taco in front of my mouth, the smell of lime and cilantro making my stomach hurt with how hungry I am.

“But maybe it was a subconscious plan…” His voice trails off as he cuts off a piece of a chimichanga covered in queso. He tilts his head back and forth, like he’s weighing the merits of if it was or wasn’t, all while wearing that half smirk that could be the end of me.

Maybe I should be mad? Or feel like I was tricked? But I’m not. Spending time with Brooks is smooth. Effortless. If I wasn’t working for the Jags, I’d be dying to go out with him. I can’t imagine a world where I don’t say ‘yes’ and let him whisk me away to hole-in-the-wall taco spots or wherever else he wanted to take me. Besides maybe the one where I’m working somewhere I’ve dreamed of my whole life.

But maybe there’s a way to have both?

Chapter 13

Brooks

Again,Ifindmyselfoutside of Lia’s apartment. She puts her key in the door, unlocking and opening it a crack before turning back to me.

She bites her lip and moves her jaw back and forth until she takes a breath, like she’s going to say something, but nothing comes. Her mouth hangs open.

“Were you going to say something?” I laugh.

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