Winning Brynn (Seattle Strikers)

9. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Leo

The boys are quiet as Brynn's footsteps disappear down the hall, but their eyes tell me everything they're not saying in words.

I fucked up.

But what was I supposed to do?

She wanted me to beg.

And I don't beg. Not for anyone, but especially not for her.

"I don't know what the problem is, man," Harley says, breaking the silence. "She only wanted you to say please."

Arun nods in agreement. "Manners don't cost a thing. She was right about that."

"To be fair," Roman says, "being an asshole doesn't either."

Jesus.

My eyes flick down to my daughter, breathing softly in my arms as she sleeps. Out of all the women in the world, why did Brynn have to be the first one to win her over?

We wouldn't even have an issue if she'd hated her.

But when Brynn held out her arms to her, Salem went into them freely. She didn't scream like she usually does. She didn't thrash to escape her hold. She didn't even look to me for reassurance.

She was comfortable with her.

Happy just to sit and play in her lap as if she'd found a kindred spirit.

And my damn pride just fucked up the best chance we have of finding her a suitable nanny. Maybe not a nanny I can trust, or even like all that much—or at all—but suitable, nonetheless.

The boys are right. I fucked up.

"Hey, man, mind if I put Salem down in your bedroom?" I ask Alex, who has been unnervingly quiet since his sister left the room.

"Pack ‘n Play is in the closet," he says simply, his usually bright demeanor now somewhat subdued, his eyes refusing to meet mine.

Brilliant.

I've pissed him off too.

The man is a total golden retriever but a rottweiler when it comes to his sister. Protective to a point that it must be stifling for Brynn sometimes, he defends her with a stubbornness I don't always understand. And every time I question him on it, he says the same thing. "I have my reasons."

And that's that.

Case closed, apparently.

No further questions, your honor.

Salem doesn't stir as I carry her down the hallway and into Alex's bedroom, which is a shit-show of crumpled sheets and clothes strewn across the floor. She barely cracks an eyelid as I settle her in the small bed we keep here for nights just like this one, but I sit beside her for a short while anyway.

I almost wish she needed more comforting before falling asleep.

Maybe that makes me a bad father. I don't know.

But the truth is, sometimes I need Salem just as much as she needs me. Holding her soothes me. Her little heartbeat against mine puts everything to right in my soul.

That little girl is my anchor.

There have been moments over the last twelve months when I've wondered if I'm cut out for this. I don't believe that anyone is ever truly prepared to have a baby, but usually a guy has at least nine months to get used to the idea.

It wasn't like that for me.

One day, I was a single guy with no responsibilities other than playing soccer and sucking down shots from between random women's tits. The next, a father.

I didn't know Salem existed until the moment her mother's lawyer knocked on the door with legal documents in one hand and a baby in the other, totally unfazed as they blew up my entire fucking world.

I wasn't ready to be a dad.

But I didn't have a choice.

And on the nights when my new reality grew to be too much, when Salem would scream and nothing I did would calm her down, when I couldn't sleep for more than an hour at a time between feeds...I would look at her. This tiny soul with eyes the color of the clearest ocean. So tiny, so delicate. One look, and it reminded me why I kept going.

I wasn't ready for her. Yet she is the very best thing to ever happen to me.

"Me and you always, baby girl," I whisper. "I've got you, and you've got me."

And it's with those words that I know what I have to do.

Nothing will ever be more important than my daughter. And regardless of how uncomfortable it makes me, I have to do what's right for her.

My pride be damned.