“He’s... not doing well,” Brooke continues, her voice tight. “His heart’s failing. The care facility says it’s just a matter of time before...” She trails off, bouncing Benji against her shoulder. “Sometimes I look at my son and get so angry, you know? How could Dad do it? He had everything. And he just... threw it away.Then when Mom got sick...” Her jaw clenches. “Three months after diagnosis. That’s all we got. Begging the insurance company until we were hoarse, and they still denied her the trial treatment like she meant nothing. If we’d had Dad’s money, instead of him blowing through everything on God knows what...”
I reach for her hand. What do you say to someone who lost both parents in such different but equally painful ways? Their mom, who’d given everything to keep them afloat, gone before she could see Gale make it to the NHL. Their dad, just... lingering in that care facility like a fallen god who barely knows his own name.
“I’m so sorry, Brooke,” I manage finally. “It’s too much.”
She nods, blinking back sudden tears. “Part of me is heartbroken, knowing my dad is slipping away like this. But another part...”
“Is still angry,” I finish for her.
“Yep,” she whispers. “It’s such a waste. He doesn’t even know who we are and now his heart’s giving out.” She looks down at Benji. “I don’t want to go see him. Is that terrible? Being angry at someone who doesn’t even remember what he did to us?”
“Not one bit,” I say firmly. “It’s a human reaction. And after everything he put you and Gale through, it’s natural to have conflicting feelings.” I think about my own father, how different our childhoods were. Where Brooke and Gale had learned to live with their father’s abandonment, I’d grown up with homework help and weekend trips to music festivals or nearby lakes and rivers. The contrast makes my heart ache for them both.
Brooke sighs, kissing the top of Benji’s head. “I keep thinking about how he’ll never really know his grandfather. And then I think, maybe that’s for the best.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight heavy between us.
“Gale tries to act like it doesn’t bother him, but I know it kills him. Now that I’m a mom, I can’t imagine walking away from your kids, gambling away their future. And the poor women hekilled—one had two daughters. I think about those girls growing up without their mother because my dad couldn’t call a cab.” She strokes Benji’s cheek. “Nothing can make that right.”
“You’re breaking the cycle,” I tell her, my voice gentle but firm. “What you and Jonathan have created—it’s something special. The way Benji looks up at you with those big eyes, how he settles the moment you hold him... he may be tiny, but he knows he has the best mom. And you learned from the best yourself. Your mom was a force of nature, and you have that same spark in you. God, I can still picture her teaching me the proper way to apply red lipstick, like it was some ancient secret being passed down.”
She smiles, lost in the memory. “That red lipstick was her armor. She’d put it on for everything, even mowing the lawn, at least until Gale finally took over that job.”
My heart skips at his name. And then, because I’m tired of carrying this alone, tired of the weight of half-truths with my best friend, I add, “Actually... I meant to say, I also had dinner at his place last night.”
“Who? My brother?” Brooke’s eyebrows shoot up, and I’m already regretting my moment of bravery.
But I press on, the words tumbling out. “Yeah. He’s still a good cook.”
I risk a glance at Brooke. My best friend. Gale’s sister. The keeper of a thousand secrets between us since high school. But not this one.
“He wanted to take me to a diner to talk about our collaboration,” I add quickly. “But the place was closed.”
“Don’t tell me. Mama Rosa’s?” Brooke shakes her head, a familiar fondness crossing her face. “That guy is such a creature of habit. He loves that place.”
“I’ll have to try it sometime.” I fidget with my coffee, trying for casual. “But dinner was fine. He reheated some of his chili—”
“Oooh.” Brooke perks up, her eyes brightening the way they always do when childhood memories surface. “He makes Mom’s chili better than she did. Spent weeks getting it right after she passed, remember? Standing in that tiny kitchen, making batch after batch until the spices were perfect.”
“I don’t think he’d disagree.” The weight of what I’m not saying hangs between us.
“Mom would be proud of him,” Brooke says softly, then snorts. “Unlike some men we know who think boiling water is an achievement. Cough, cough, Zach. You haven’t reached out to him, have you?”
The name hits me like cold water, and I almost laugh at how distant it feels. “No. In fact, I haven’t been thinking about him at all.” And that’s completely true—I’d even deleted him from my phone last night after I got home from Gale’s, riding the clarity of realizing what I actually deserve. “It’s not like I ever really wanted him back, it’s just that... when someone shows you who they are, when they make it clear you’re just a convenient option until something better comes along—” I take a sip of coffee to steady myself. “I’ve realized I was more in love with proving I was worth choosing than I ever was with Zach.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. You are so much better than a guy with the emotional intelligence of a potato.”
I can’t help but laugh. “God, you’re right. I can’t believe I wasted so much time on him. It makes me feel like the biggest dumb-dumb.”
“Hey,” she says, her tone softening. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. We’ve all got that one ex who makes us question our judgment.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I know. It’s just... I feel so stupid that I kept trying to turn him into someone he wasn’t. Someone who cared.”
“Listen to me. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Sometimes our hearts just don’t get the memo as quickly as our heads do.”
A lump forms in my throat at her words. “Thanks, Brookie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She gives me a watery smile. “We’re in this mess called life together, remember?”
