Page 36 of Your Secret to Keep

I watch as Brooks sits down beside a black and white English bulldog. He’s lying on a blanket, and when we get closer, I can tell he’s shivering. It’s warm in here, in addition to the blankets, so I think he’s scared. My heart drops thinking about what could have happened to him to feel this way. His eyes are wide, and I can’t stop staring at his sweet facial rolls.

I must wear my brain on my sleeve because a volunteer says quietly, “That’s Rocky. He was surrendered a few months ago. His family got anew puppy for a birthday and couldn’t keep both. We’re guessing he’s three years old, so he’s basically a puppy himself.”

The explanation is a punch to the gut. I fight the urge to let tears spill over and instead run to Rocky where my hands pet him, getting stuck on his velvety ears. I’ll never understand how a family can get rid of a pet like that, but according to research while looking for volunteer opportunities, it seems to be fairly common.

“He’s great. Just wants a warm place to sleep. Do you have a dog?” the volunteer asks.

I wish. “I don’t, but I live in a studio apartment with no yard or anything. He’s probably a great fit for me as a person, but not for my current living situation.” I’ve never considered bringing home a dog until now.

It looks like Rocky is warming up to Brooks as he’s sniffing the hand that he holds out. A moment later, the bulldog rolls to his back, exposing his belly, and Brooks’ lips tug on one side as he provides scratches and pets.

I make sure to zoom in to capture the sweet moment with Brooks and Rocky. These two seem to match with their gentle energy. Walking to the space behind them, I lean down and whisper, “Just a reminder, all of these dogs are available.”

Brooks scoffs. “I wish. It’s a terrible thing to work a job that keeps me away from home about half the time during the season.” He looks at me without breaking contact with the wrinkly dog, who is soaking in all the attention.

“They have dog walkers for that. The volunteers have some great leads on people they’d recommend… I made sure to ask, in case any of you were interested in taking one of these sweet babies home.”

I promised myself I’d only hand out short-lived guilt trips today; a little guilt can go a long way. Some of the players already have dogs at home, and I’m not trying to overwhelm anyone.

Brooks looks down at the dog, whose eyes are on the verge of closing. It’s like he’s in complete bliss. “You seem to think of everything.”

“There’s no pressure. I’m thankful we can bring visibility to a cause like this. Hopefully we can find homes for all of them.”

A few seconds later, a soft snore escapes Rocky, his lips flapping—and my heart melting—with the exhale.

“Jalen, you’re responsible for any accidents that occur outside of this area,” Megan shouts, as he’s taken a puppy out of the fenced-in space and starts rolling a ball towards it. She’s laughing, but everyone knows she means it, which is my favorite thing about her—she can be firm without getting a side-eyed glance or the stereotypical “she’s too direct” comment.

Megan reminds me how close I am to Brooks, who smells like peppermint. I so badly want to wrap my arms around him from behind, press my cheek to his, and convince him to get this dog. He’s the kind of guy you want to touch. Instead, I stand and create some distance before I get carried away.

We get a few group pictures of the volunteers and the team. I even get everyone to do a quick lip sync video for social media, which might be a little cringey, but at the end of the day, some of them are fun to watch.

When I’ve got all I need, I say my goodbyes to the volunteer team so I can get to work on getting the raw footage post ready—the sooner it’s live, the sooner people can adopt dogs from the shelter.

I make the turn from the court into the empty hallway when Brooks catches up to me.

His voice is quiet. “Hey, you have plans tonight?”

I look around to double check it’s just the two of us. “Plans to do nothing,” I answer, keeping my voice small with several feet between us. “Excited to get cozy and not do much of anything.” It’s a night I have circled on my calendar because I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to have one like this.

“What if I bring dinner over? We could do nothing together.” Brooks lifts a foot and stretches his quad while peeking down the hall that confirm no one is hanging around.

I nod. “I’ll text you,” I say, trying to hide my smile.

A man that offers to bring dinner? And do nothing? Oof. This is getting out of hand… in the best way.

Chapter 22

Brooks

I’moutsideLia’sapartmentand nervous energy pricks the tips of my ears. Part of it was due to a random person asking if they’ve seen me from somewhere, like they almost recognized me, but it’s also about who is on the other side of the door. It’s alarming to think about how new this is, how I’ve only known her a few weeks—it feels much longer. My fingers reach down, looking for the tape that’s there for practices and game day. There’s nothing there, but my fingers run over the place it typically is.

She opens the door, wearing a smile and a matching pajama set—pink with white stripes. I want to wrap her tight, pull her close.

“I brought a few different soups and salads from a place by my house. Thought we could share,” I offer as I set the bag on the counter. Again, I’m not big on sharing my food but for some reason it’s different with Lia. She didn’t ask or assume, but it seems to fit.

Lia takes in an exaggerated breath through her nose. “It smells so good. Thanks for grabbing it.” She sits down on the barstool at the counter and lets me unbox everything. I watch as she rubs the same spot over and over again on her elbow.

“Are you okay?” I ask, pointing to her hand.

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