“Oh, sure,” his smirk deepens, clearly finding the situation amusing. “Because zoning out so hard you didn’t even notice me walking up? Totally normal.”
“I was watching the drills,” I stammer defensively, motioning toward the field in a half hearted gesture that doesn’t quite land.
“Watching the drills? What are you, a scout now? Maybe take a picture next time—it’ll last longer.”
I give him a careless shove, trying to hide the irritation sneaking up on me. “Shut up, KitKat.”
“You’re so bad at this. No wonder you’ve always been single.”
My response dies on my lips when I see Brooks stepping out of the locker room, his presence shifting everything in an instant.
He looks stupidly good in dark jeans and a spruce-green T-shirt, the sleeves straining just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. His damp hair is a little messy, and there’s this clean, woodsy scent that hits me as he gets closer.
“Ready to go?” he asks, smiling like he hasn’t the slightest clue of the thoughts he’s causing inside my head.
“Do I get to know where we’re going yet?”
“Nope. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Cool. Ilovesurprises,” I mutter sarcastically, earning a laugh from both him and my brother.
“Relaaax,” Beckett drawls, messing up my hair as if I’m some bratty little kid.
“Seriously?” I shove his hand away, narrowing my eyes at him in annoyance. “Stop!”
Brooks pinches his lips together, trying to hold in a laugh. “Cute.” But the dimples that appear are all the confirmation I need to know he’s amused.
“It’s something,” I say, shooting a glare at my brother and scrunching my nose. “I wouldn’t exactly call itcute.”
Thankfully, we leave Beckett’s laughter behind as we make our way to his pickup. Brooks opens the passenger door, and I slide in, the seat shifting as I settle. He rounds the truck, climbs into the driver’s side, and with a turn of the key, the engine roars to life. We pull out, driving through a canopy of towering trees, the sunlight flickering through the leaves like a strobe. As the sound of crashing waves grows louder, I lean closer to the window, captivated by the vibrant landscape unfolding outside.
Eventually, Brooks pulls us into a dirt parking lot tucked between dunes, the ocean a faint glimmer in the distance. The scene is familiar, every detail demanding to be understood but refusing to fall into place.
“Is this really the surprise?”
“Part of it,” he answers, stepping around the truck and pulling my door open, waiting for me to join him.
I match his pace, the breeze whipping strands of hair into my face as we walk toward the abandoned church. In the daylight, the place radiates beauty—its exterior is cloaked in ivy, while the stained-glass windows shimmer, alive with color.
Brooks drops a bag from his shoulder, the zipper’s coarse rip punctuating the air. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”
“Painting.” He says it without looking up, sorting through the colors as if he’s done it a thousand times before.
“What?” I blink, inching closer, unable to hide my surprise. “Why?”
He pauses, the faintest touch of irony in his eyes. “You mentioned you’ve always had your heart set on Paris, painting the city’s colors. I thought maybe we could bring that here, let this place hold a small piece of that dream.”
I stare at him, my heart tugging unexpectedly. “Brooks, this is…”
“Too much?” He watches my face closely, as if trying to gauge my reaction.
I blink, biting on my nail as my mind scrambles for the right words. “No. Um, it’s…”
“Unbelievable?” He lifts one shoulder, his body shifting slightly as he rolls onto the tips of his toes, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.
“Yeah…” I shake my head, processing, a pink flush creeping up my neck. “I don’t know what to say.”
“After the whole situation with your mom yesterday, I figured this might help.”