Page 52 of Your Secret to Keep

“Quit with the overthinking. You’re going to ruin the food buzz.” Shelbie pushes my shoulders and has me smiling. Everyone should have the type of friend who knows you enough to sense the spiral as it’s happening. “You know you don’t have to marry him. It was a joke,” she insists.

“I know. All of it feels… big.”

“I want to make a dick joke right now, but I’m not going to. That’s how much I know you need to talk.”

I laugh and shake my head. “It’s like I expected this to be short lived. The way I could think about the future is like the second before you drop at peak of a rollercoaster. It’s hard to explain.”

“No, I think I get it. It’s like you didn’t let yourself believe it, but then you did. It’s more than you thought.”

Nodding my head in agreement, I sit back and catch a glimpse of the TV. The Jags are up by five and they show Brooks resting on the bench.

“It feels too good. If it feels this way when everything is going well, what will it feel like if I lose it?” My voice cracks and I clear my throat.

Shelbie’s head tilts, taking me in as her brows furrow. “What if you don’t lose it? What if it’s something that works out? Something you keep?”

The lightness blooming in my chest is met with tears in my eyes.What if I can keep it?What if Brooks isn’t a blip, but something long term? Fuck, I want that. And it terrifies me.

“I know sometimes it feels like shit is too good to be true, but at some point, things swing the other way. Unless it’s someone telling you cauliflower is way better than pizza crust or chicken wings... that will never be true.”

I start to laugh but Shelbie stops me. “Buffalo cauliflower is too good to be true. I said what I said and will die on this hill.” She crosses her arms and puts her nose in the air.

Shelbie wouldn’t be who she is without a delicate balance between the heavy and the hilarious. Maybe she’s right; maybe thisisthe type of good thing I can really have. Shelbie gets up to refill her drink and I focus on the game. The Jags are still up, and I watch Jalen delivers a perfect pass to Brooks. He dribbles past a defender, pulling the ball back to dunk itwhen an arm comes in, trying to swipe the ball away or block the shot. Brooks gets hit while he’s in the air and he lands awkwardly, sort of on his shoulder.

When he doesn’t pop up right away, I’m standing in front of the TV, trying to decipher what’s going on. The training staff meet him on the court as Jalen kneels next to him. It’s hard to watch as Brooks’ face twists in pain, the arm he landed on limp by his side. The broadcast goes to commercial break—an injury timeout—and I’m pacing back and forth.

Shelbie says nothing as she sits back down on the couch. My hands scrub my face before pushing through my hair and ending at the base of my neck. I pull at my skin and pace in front of the TV, a mountain of nervousness building in my belly.Brooks.Is it his arm? His collarbone? Is something broken? How long is this recovery? The questions stack onto one another and when they get to be too heavy, it’s like they explode into pure chaos.

“Why don’t you sit. You have a full marg over here.” Shelbie pats the space next to her.

I take her suggestion and sit. Reaching for my glass, I start to tremble. Shelbie reaches for my hand, holding it tight in hers. “Take a breath and then take a drink. Tequila is perfect for this situation.”

“Nothing is broken. It’s a stinger,” Brooks insists, his face filling my phone screen.

I finally let out a breath and the relief is like a drink of cool of water on a scalding hot day. A stinger is an injury to nerves in the neck and varies in severity. Some can be remedied with a few days of rest, while some may need months to heal.

“The burning has already stopped. Seems like it’s mild.” His voice is quiet as he sits in his bed, propped up on pillows with an ice pack taped to his shoulder.

Mild. Nothing is broken. All of these are good things. “How do you feel?” I ask as I rub my hand on the duvet cover, holding my phone with the other.

“I mean, I feel okay. My hand keeps cramping and my arm feels… heavy? I don’t know, it’s weird.” He tries to lightly move his neck from side to side, probably itching to stretch the pain away. “I’ve never had one, but they seem fairly common.” He lets his head lean back and hit the headboard.

“Did they give you anything to take?”

“Anti-inflammatories and a Xanax. I asked for something to take the edge off so I could sleep tonight.”

I nod my head—this all makes sense. The urge to be there with him in that bed, making him comfortable and relaxed, is strong.

“I wish I was there with you.” I let the words out before overthinking has me keeping them in.

“Yeah, me too. I’m not that much fun tonight, though.”

“I don’t need you to be fun. I just wish I was there to help you feel better. If that sounds stupid—”

“No, it sounds nice. Supportive. I know I’d feel better if you were here.”

The words warm my skin, the blood rushing to my cheeks as I fight the urge to smile like an idiot. That doesn’t feel like it fits the mood.

“Let’s talk about something else. I’m all injury detailed out.” Brooks’ eyes look heavy as he slowly blinks.

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