Page 81 of Your Secret to Keep

She’s silent for a while and that’s okay. Part of me was a little nervous she wouldn’t come back here tonight—that maybe she’d stay with her brother. I’m so fucking glad to see she made it home to me.

When she’s ready, Lia sits and rests her back on the headboard. I do the same.

“I was in the training room after seeing the doctor and this tidal wave hit me. Grief. As raw as the first day I woke without my parents. Like, I’d do anything to see my mom. My dad. To have them hold my hand and tell me it’s going to be okay.”

Fuck. Tears spill from her eyes, red rimmed and swollen.

“I’ve been relatively healthy my entire life,” Lia continues. “I’ve never been sick. When he was talking about autoimmune disorders, I was thinking about how scary that is and how much I wanted my mom.”

Ah, there it is. The doctor gave his best guess before getting her connected with a doctor who can help treat.

“And not only am I fucking scared about what this means, but it made me miss them. Like to my bones. In a way I haven’t done in a long time. So, I wanted to go see Wes—”

A sob cracks her voice as she falls into my lap, almost in the fetal position. I let her cry and feel everything. I hold one of her hands and stroke her hair with my other.

“Whenever I was sick, or didn’t feel good, my mom would stroke my hair,” I tell Lia. “She did it when I was in the hospital recovering from surgery. I can’t imagine needing your mom and not having her.” I tip down and kiss the tears from her cheek.

She tries to catch her breath but all she can manage are sharp inhales. “It’s been so long and…” Lia can’t even finish her sentence.

I keep touching her in any way I think will be soothing, doing what I can to make her feel better. Rocky does the same and rests his head on her legs, curled on the side of the bed. “Want me to tell you a secret?” I ask.

She nods her head yes.

“My mom never made it home for Thanksgiving. There was bad weather and her flight was cancelled. I stayed in bed for two days. When everyone asked me what I did, I lied. I didn’t have it in me to tell them I’m twenty-seven and all I wanted was my mom.”

Lia sits, looking at me with eyes that could bring me to my knees. “Brooks. I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she apologizes.

“I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anyone. The point is, you’re never too old to want your mom.”

She wipes her tears away with her fingertips. When she looks at me, it hurts. Her cheeks are stained with tears, and the red flush makes her forest green eyes even more vivid. Lia puts her lips to mine and it’s like we were meant to fit together like this. Tears, grief, secrets and all.

“Let’s take a shower,” I suggest. “You always feel better after one.”

“I still owe you a secret,” she replies, watching me rise from the bed.

“There’s no rush,” I assure her, and she puts her hand in mine. “I’m not going anywhere. Or if I am, it’s with you.”

You’d never guess Lia has had a rough two days with the way she looks tonight. This morning, I learned all the tips and tricks for bringing down swelling from crying. I wish I had known some of them when I was back in my jagged, dark depression hole after my knee injury.

Lia is holding a Jags branded mic, standing on the edge of the court and doing sound checks. She’s working on the court tonight, getting some interview access with players. It’s not for a major broadcast but it’s still cool as fuck.

One of my favorite parts is watching the fans and other players interact with her. Many know her from social media or from the DO IT FOR THE DOGS campaign. They want selfies or high fives and it’s so fucking wholesome.

Megan stands next to the camera man, testing some shots with Lia. She’s fixing Lia’s blonde curly hair and giving her tips on where to hold the mic. They laugh loudly enough that I can hear them over the warm-up music, and it makes me fucking smile.

We’re only fifteen minutes from tip-off and fans are finding their seats. I look for my special invite, who should be sitting about three rows from the bench.

And there he is.

Wes.

I snooped in Lia’s phone, only to get his phone number, and told him I had two tickets with his name on them. He thought I was pranking him and made me FaceTime him to be sure. After he was positive it was really me, he was happy to take the tickets.

I knew Lia would be on court tonight and I thought it’d be nice for Wes to see her. She’s doing cool fucking things, and I know she’d want to share this with one of her favorite people. Lia has no idea he’s here and I can’t wait to surprise her.

When Wes sees me and gives me a wave, Lia walks over for a pregame interview. She’s wearing light purple dress pants; they’re almost lilac but sort of gray, with a white top. The pants are wide at the bottom of the legs but tight enough on her ass to show the curves I’m going to be salivating over later tonight when she’s in my bed. Wait—ourbed.

Megan gets my attention. “Brooks, are you ready for Lia? It’ll only take a second.”

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