You’re part of the family now.” She winks. “Here’s a gym membership card we buy them by the dozen for the team. The room’s double the size of my bedroom back home, exquisitely decorated in light tones, with a tinge of pastel blue on the curtains and on the bedspread. We finally reach my bedroom and I am tempted to ask Brooke if she’s ever lost her way in her own house. Online, the articles say that he’s a fighting machine, and the best there’s ever been. Mom says they call him RIP too, because he kills his opponents. Even people who’ve never heard about MMA fighting seem to know who he is. The hall has framed pictures of famous athletes, and among them, there’s a picture labeled riptide and I try not to gape at it, because I know Riptide is her widely known husband, former boxer and now MMA fighter. It’s got high windows and a lot of natural light, with views of Mount Rainier across a glistening stretch of water.īrooke leads me down the hall to the guest bedroom.

Smart technology everywhere, five bedrooms, a kitchen fit for a restaurant. I’m speechless, taking in the interior of the house with wide eyes as she gives me a brief tour. She’s excited and talkative during our ride, answering all my questions on how I can help her with her three-year-old, Racer.Īt the tip of the cul-de-sac we reach their sprawling waterfront home in Lakehaven, with its stucco facade, sweeping rooftop, and manicured lawn.

If Brooke has any reservations about having me around for the whole summer, she doesn’t show it.

“Nice to meet you, Reese,” he says as he reaches for my suitcase. “So glad to have you.” She hugs me tight before introducing me to a tall, curly-haired man standing next to her. “Reese!” With a tall ponytail, skintight spandex running pants, and a killer body beneath, she looks like she could’ve stepped out of Sports Illustrated. My cousin Brooke meets me outside the terminal. The plane circled an extra half hour until the rain stopped and we were authorized to land. Inhaling, I step into the airport on my own for the first time in my life.īetween boarding and flight times, it takes over four hours for me to arrive in Seattle. I turn and wave goodbye to her, a pang of homesickness already hitting me as I watch her drive away.

“Do you have your passport, ticket confirmation. She leans over to hug me, and I close my eyes and cling for an extra beat. “Reese.” She stops me before I can get out of the car, taking my hand. I’m wearing my favorite pair of jeans and my favorite top.

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