by Hart, Taylor
Ana blinked rapidly, and she sucked in a breath, crossing her arms. “We’ll have to talk to him tomorrow morning, but it’s time for you to get some rest.”
Brooks pulled out his phone, not knowing what time it was here. Eight-thirty.
“This is the only thing I wanted,” Callie insisted.
Ana sighed.
Sam turned to Brooks. “C’mon, I’ll drop you off at the hotel.”
Brooks hesitated. He was still staring at Callie, who hadn’t budged.
“Callie, say goodnight,” her mother prodded.
“Mama.”
Ana pushed her curly hair out of her face and let out a long sigh. She turned to Brooks. “Pick her up at four-thirty, and wear something nice.”
Brooks’s nerves fluttered. Forcing himself, he smiled at her. “Can’t wait.”
* * *
As he, Tiffany, and Sam started down the hall, Tiffany turned to him. “Thanks for doing this. Sam said you were a good guy.”
Remembering the punch to his nose less than thirty minutes ago, Brooks wanted to laugh, but he settled for a noncommittal grunt.
“I mean it. This means so much to her.” She flashed him a teary smile.
Brooks watched the flurry of activity going on around them everywhere he looked. He saw more kids with no hair, not even eyelashes. Some were walking; some were in wheelchairs, going past them in the hall. Truly, what impressed him the most was the way most of them smiled at him when he met their eyes.
He thought about them and their journeys. He’d always felt like if anyone had picked the short straw on childhoods, his could take the cake. Six different homes by the time he started high school ... Of course, that meant everyone had labeled him as the troubled one. Admittedly, he had been the troubled one, especially when he’d learned early on that being nice didn’t get you anything—only slapped around and less food. Being “troubled” kept most other kids from bothering him.
His sophomore year had been the year when things had really changed. He’d grown, and his talent had finally matched his physique. After that, football ruled his life, and it had paid off. It gave him a scholarship for four years, so he’d gotten a college degree.
“Are you still ticked at me?” Sam asked quietly. He wasn’t looking at Brooks; rather, he was doing exactly what Brooks was doing: observing. Seeing everything around them.
Brooks let out a long sigh. “I don’t know yet.” But all the energy had gone out of his anger.
“Look,” Sam said, letting out a big sigh. “I’ll take you back to my place and bring you back in the morning before I fly out.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Take me to a hotel that’s close.”
“But—”
Brooks stopped walking for a second. Sam and Tiffany stopped alongside him, and he looked from one to the other. “I don’t need to go to your fairy-tale house to witness the fairy-tale bromance you got going on with Roman.” He shrugged his shoulders at Tiffany. “No offense.”
She simply grinned. “None taken.”
Sam’s eyes flashed with anger. Then he let out a sigh. “It’s always gotta be difficult with you, doesn’t it?”
Brooks shrugged, and then gave him a schoolboy grin—the one he’d used in every principal’s office he’d gone to before getting suspended, the one that said, I know what I did; what are you going to do about it? “I’ll see you at practice on Tuesday afternoon.”
Sam didn’t move. “So you take her to dinner and then get on a plane?”
“Yep.”
Lifting his eyebrows, Sam sighed.
Suspicion rose within Brooks. “What?”
“Coach thinks it’d be a good thing if you just took the week off and come back Friday for evaluation, because your attitude is a killer for team morale.”
Going from slightly annoyed to definitely ticked, Brooks clenched his fists. He’d heard the coaches give little hints about taking time off, but he didn’t appreciate feeling like Sam had any control over his career.
Sam pointed at him. “Use the next couple of days to clear your head.”
“My head is clear.” Brooks spat the words out.
“Enjoy the mountains. Go for a hike.”
“I hate hiking.”
Shaking his head, Sam took Tiffany’s hand and began walking toward the double doors of the hospital. “Sit in your hotel room and ice your ankle for all I care, but you’re not welcome back to practice until Friday’s evaluation.”
Brooks grabbed Sam’s shoulder. Sam pushed it off and flexed his hand into a fist. They stood there like ancient warriors ready for battle.
Tiffany stepped between them. “A full-out brawl has no place in a hospital. Let’s take it outside, boys.”
“You promised you’d recommend I play.” Brooks didn’t move.
“I will.” Sam’s jaw flexed. He jerked his head toward the door.
“I’m going back to Florida tomorrow.”
Sam narrowed his eyes, then nodded and headed outside. “Do whatever you like, Brooks, but don’t come to the field house until Friday.”
Chapter 5
It took him completely off guard when Ana showed up at his hotel room two hours later. He’d moved some of the furniture to make room for some sparring moves—those always helped calm him.
“Did I interrupt you?” She looked him up and down.
He was wearing gym shorts and no shirt, and his feet were bare. Sweat poured off of him, and he was breathing hard. Wiping away some of his sweat, he tried not to notice the way her blond hair flowed down to her shoulders, or the way his stomach tightened from nerves, or the wafting smell of vanilla. Flinging the door back, he stepped to the side and gestured. “Come on in.”
Waving him off, she glared. “I’m only here to make sure you know your place.”
As she stood there, he decided to take his time answering. Obviously, she wanted to fight. The same ferocious look from earlier was there in those green eyes. He wanted to tell her that if she wanted to be so antagonistic, she should really take the time to look worse. Granted, he could tell she was tired. But with all that blond hair and that puffy white coat and those cute brown boots, she looked like she’d walked out of a magazine cover. “What place is that?”
Her glare deepened. “You are not part of my daughter’s life. You are one date. Dinner. That’s all. Do you get that?” She shook a finger at him. “Do you understand that?”
It was funny that she clearly felt threatened by him, as if he would want more than dinner. As if he had a choice in that dinner. But he remembered what Dumont had demanded—Ken doll. “Got it.”
She let out a breath. “Good.”
“Good.”
They both simply stared into each other’s eyes. Unfortunately, all Brooks could do was think about how pretty she was and how she smelled good. The vanilla scent was light, so it must have been her shampoo.
“So it’s eat dinner, make her happy, and then go. Right?”
He blinked, pulling himself away from her scent. “Right,” he agreed. Once again, he noticed how thin her face looked. He found himself wondering if she had been this thin before. Then he asked the question that had been on his mind since Sam had dropped him off at the hotel. “How long has she had it?”
At first, she looked confused. Then she hesitated.
“I don’t want to have to ask her tomorrow,” Brooks explained softly.
She blinked, and then nodded. “Last January she complained of constant shoulder pain. Every bone and joint doctor we went to couldn’t find anything structurally. Then, last March, they found the cancer. Bone cancer. She’s been through a lot. Now she has a portal in her chest and gets chemo and radiation. But …” She broke off.
“What?”
She met his gaze without blinking. “The doctors say she’s stage four. They say there’s nothing else they can do.”
He frowned. “So she’s dying?” As soon as he said it, he hated himself for carin
g so much already.
“No. She’s not dying.” Ana bit off the last word. Tears swam in her eyes for a second, but she held his gaze. “I’m taking her to Brazil to get an alternative treatment. A treatment that’s been proven to work.”
Her chin tilted up, and he recognized that dogged determination. It was the kind he had seen every time he looked in the mirror in college and every day before he’d gotten drafted to the Surf. It was the look he had on his face before every game. Well, before his wife had died. Before … He shook his head, not wanting to think about before.
Lifting her eyebrows, she turned away from him. “I’ll see you around four tomorrow.” She turned back and pointed at him. “I know she wants to get out of the hospital for a bit, but I’m warning you. She can’t go far, and she can’t be gone long, so come with options for her.” She flipped back. “Oh, and I’ll be coming with you all, but I will sit at a different table.” She squinted. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for myself.”
With those words, she rushed down the hall, turning for the elevators.
Chapter 6
Brooks woke the next morning at seven. He hopped out of bed and did fifty push-ups and sit-ups. Then he went out for swimming. His trainers had told him he couldn’t do his normal two runs a day, but he needed cardio badly.
As he swam laps, he thought of Callie and what Ana had told him. About how it started with pain in her shoulder. Honestly, he’d had a hard time going to sleep last night, kept awake by troubled thoughts. What kind of alternative treatment was she talking about? Where in Brazil? Didn’t “alternative” usually mean they had run out of options?
Was Callie dying? For real?
His heart tightened a bit, and he had to adjust his normal breathe-every-three-strokes routine to breathing every other stroke. When he finally climbed out, he stood and sucked in a breath and wiped his eyes. Was he crying?
He thought of her shaking his hand. Her hand had felt so soft and fragile in his. It had touched him.
He didn’t want her to die.
This was a revelation to him. He actually cared about someone. Something. Honestly, he couldn’t remember caring about much the past year. He’d been like a zombie—he went through the motions, but nothing touched him.
Until she had. This nine-year-old girl.
Of course, he hadn’t wanted her to die before, but now it was different. He’d told Sam that everyone had a sad story, but putting a face to a terminal illness changed things. He thought of how Callie had smiled at him so easily despite the difficulties of this past year. He hadn’t done anything to earn that smile.
He planned to earn one tonight.
* * *
When he showed up at four at the hospital, wearing a tuxedo and having actually shaved, he put on his best smile as he pushed open the door to her room. It dawned on him that it wasn’t a smile he would use for the owners. It was his real smile.
But Callie wasn’t there. Ana was.
Glancing up from her chair, she immediately put her phone down and stood.
For a second, he couldn’t breathe. Her long blond hair had been pulled back and up, and amazing curls spiraled down. He realized she hadn’t had on makeup the day before. Now, with her accentuated features, she had an almost sultry air. It was incredibly stupid, but he noticed that her lashes seemed to go on forever. She wore a simple black dress, accented by a red silk scarf and red high-heeled leather boots.
She gave him an unimpressed once-over. “You look nice.”
Grinning, he winked at her. Then he instantly hated himself; he wasn’t that kind of guy, the winking guy. “You look good, too.”
Cocking an eyebrow, he could tell she was even less impressed. She was poised for a fight. He could tell she was looking for a reason not to like him. He’d seen that look in every school and every home he’d ever lived in.
“Listen, I want to make this a good night for Callie. Can we agree to get along just for this dinner?”
Leveling him with a suspicious glare, she let out a sigh. “Fine.” She nodded. “Tonight, for Callie.” She put out her hand to shake his. “Let’s start over. I’m Ana.” She put on an obviously fake smile.
Gently, he picked up her hand and gave it a quick shake. Then he put on the owners smile. “Brooks Stone.”
Tugging her hand back, she held his gaze, but her chance to say something was lost when the door burst open and Callie sashayed in. Brooks was taken aback at the blond wig that was up in a bun with a little crown. It changed her whole appearance. She wore a blue Cinderella-type dress with white tights and blue slipper shoes. He grinned, and his whole heart lightened.
She grinned back. “Mama got your message that I should dress up. Do you like it?”
Warmth filled him. “You look like a princess.”
Her face reddened. Then she frowned at her mother. “Mama says she has to come, but I told her this is my date with you.”
Brooks didn’t look at Ana, not wanting to be a cause of contention between them.
“Callie, I told you that was the deal,” Ana said softly.
“But Mama, he’s here for me. He’s here for my wish.”
“But you’re only nine, sweetheart.”
Callie’s lips pressed together. “Mama, he’s not going to steal me.” Her head whipped back toward Brooks. “Are you going to steal me?”
This whole exchange made Brooks cough to cover his laugh. “Hmm, no.”
Ana shook her head. She had a soft, sad look on her face. “Baby, I’ll sit at a different table. Don’t worry.”
Callie took in a long breath and closed her eyes for a second. Then she flashed Brooks a wide grin. “You’re like a handsome prince.”
He knew he was blushing. Emotion clogged his throat, and he thought about the fact that even though she had so many hard things in her life, she was such a happy little girl. So he did something he wouldn’t normally do—a common occurrence in the last twenty-four hours, he noticed. He held out his hand. “Well, my lady, let’s go to dinner.”
* * *
Driving through the streets of Salt Lake, Brooks could hear the limo tires swish through the melting snow. Callie sat next to him, and her mom sat across from them, absorbed in her phone. He’d told Callie that where they were going was a surprise. He hoped that the concierge at the hotel had been true to his word and set them up in the best restaurant in all of Salt Lake City.
Looking down at Callie, he noticed she wore lip gloss and blush. Her arm was still linked through his. He didn’t know why, but he hated to admit how much he was already becoming attached to this little girl.
She grinned and stared out the window. With her other hand, she pointed. “Look.”
When he looked up, he was struck with the way the building coming into view glowed.
“It’s the Salt Lake Temple,” Callie said. She pointed again. “Isn’t it beautiful? It’s like a castle.”
Something about the distinct way the temple shone like a beacon of light touched him. “It does look like a castle.” It was all he could say. Amber had always wanted to go on a European tour and see castles. Even though it wasn’t his burning passion, he’d been open to it, but when they’d discovered she had a hard time getting pregnant, she’d wanted to wait and focus their efforts on fertility treatments.
He pushed Amber out of his mind. Tonight he would focus on this special little girl and be what he needed to be for her. Even if just for tonight, he was going to make her happy.
It was actually a great feeling for Brooks, kind of freeing, to be thinking completely about someone else’s happiness. This realization made him begrudgingly let go of some of the hostility he felt toward Sam Dumont.
“Aren’t the lights beautiful?” Callie turned to him.
Brooks stared out the window at the Christmas lights and at all the people walking around the temple to look at them. “The place looks crowded.”
The limo driver pulled up near the temple. “Here is the restaurant.”
&nbs
p; Callie giggled and turned to Brooks. “I knew you’d bring me here.”
He got out and rushed around to open the door for her and her mother, helping them each out in turn. Her mother gave him a slow smile as he put both of his hands on his hips, and she and Callie laced their arms through his.
His heart beat erratically for a second at Ana’s smile. He cleared his throat, then led them toward the building until he saw the sign in front: the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. He looked down at Callie. “How did you know I would bring you here?”
Releasing her arm from his, she went ahead and stood in front of the revolving door that led inside the building. “Because The Roof is the best restaurant in town, and you’re Brooks Stone.” She said it like he was royalty.
Pleased that the hotel concierge had done a good job, Brooks smiled at Callie. She wore a little white fur coat, and with how cold it was, he was glad of it.
She giggled and then moved forward, pushing the glass.
Brooks waited for Ana to go through before pushing through as well.
The entrance of the building was stately, and the décor looked like it was out of a fairy tale. Gold chandeliers with glass jewels hung down from high ceilings. Victorian furniture was placed around the foyer. There was a man at the piano playing Christmas music. All of them took a few seconds to look around, studying the huge chandelier and the statues and the large Christmas tree in the center.
Callie took his arm, and when he looked down at her, he saw tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t come here last Christmas because I felt so yucky. But,” she added, grinning wider, “I actually feel stronger since they’ve all given up on me.”
“Callie.” Her mother’s voice was sharp. “That’s not true.”
Callie kept her chin in the air and glanced at Ana. “It’s true, Mama. Not you, but everyone else did. They think I’m dying.”
Brooks, fighting his rising discomfort, didn’t know how to react.
Ana shook her head and placed both hands on Callie’s shoulders. “We’re going to get you to Brazil, sweetheart.”
