Winning Brynn (Seattle Strikers)

23. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Brynn

"It's always a joy to have you here, Brynn," Miss Jessica says with her arms around me. She gives the best hugs, always has.

Back when Alex and I were living here at the children's home, she was only in her early twenties and at the bottom of the staff hierarchy—not the house mother like she is now—but she was my favorite anyway.

She'd sit beside my bed when I had bad dreams, stroking my hair and singing Irish lullabies she had learned from her mom growing up. Like us, she lost her birth parents young but was lucky to have been adopted into a loving, if not eccentric, family of Irish immigrants.

She taught me all about the lore of butterflies, how they're believed to carry the souls still waiting for a place on Earth, how it's good luck to see one with light-colored wings because they're said to bring success, though she'd leave out the darker side of the legends. I scared easy when I was little.

Still do, actually.

"You know I love coming here," I say, stepping out of her hold to look into her eyes. "I missed you guys while I was in London."

"I bet we missed you more." She grins, and I know her words are genuine. Miss Jessica isn't one to say things she doesn't mean. "Little Ivy was in such a bad way after her last foster family brought her back here this morning. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. She was asking for you the moment she got through the door."

My heart pangs with sadness for the little girl who, up until ten minutes ago, was a mess of wracking sobs in my lap.

I shouldn't admit this, but of the ten children here at the Poppy Fields Children's Home, Ivy is my favorite. With a shock of dark hair and eyes like lightning striking the sea, she's a tiny, beautiful package of trauma and grief, still struggling to come to terms with the sudden death of her parents two years ago.

Though, I'm not sure you ever truly come to terms with something like that.

I'm twenty-four with the most incredible adoptive parents, but even I still carry the effects of the car accident that took Alex's and my birth family away, even if I can't really remember them anymore.

Ivy's trauma slips through in her behavior. Four foster families have decided she's too much work. Four times she's been sent back to the group home. Four times she's had to experience abandonment on top of what she's already been through.

They don't understand her.

They don't see the incredible, brave, and smart six-year-old girl I see every time I come to visit.

And truth be told, if I was in a more stable position, with a house of my own and a job that didn't have me flying across the world at any given time, I'd probably adopt her.

She reminds me of me when I was her age.

"I'll always come if she needs me."

If I'm in the country, that is. God, the guilt I would have felt if this happened while I was in London.

Miss Jessica takes my face in two warm hands. "We're all so proud of you. I hope you know that. Ivy is too. She looks up to you so much, and she'd understand if you couldn't make it someday, if you were working or something. No matter how much you mean to her. I hope you know that too." The woman has always had an uncanny ability to read my mind.

"I know." I smile. "She means a lot to me too."

She presses her lips to my forehead, and it's like I'm five years old again and she's kissing away a boo boo. "Now, get going. There's a man outside waiting for you, been there for about an hour."

My forehead creases in confusion. "My brother?"

"We both know Alex would have waltzed right in here and started raiding the fridge if it was him." She laughs. "Tall guy. Slight beard, dazzling dark eyes that I swear sparkle with all the filthy things he could do to a woman. Honestly, it was hard to turn him away earlier. But he hasn't had a background check, so you know how it goes."

My heart thunders—a boom, boom, boom of nervousness in my chest—because it sounds like she's describing Leo, and well...that can't be right. Why would he come here? How would he even know this is where he'd find me?

"You've caught yourself a looker there, Brynn. And that accent..." Miss Jessica carries on, her eyes dazed as she speaks, like just one look at Leo has mesmerized her. I get it. Leo is just that hot. "Go find your boyfriend. He's been waiting long enough."

Shooing me out the door, she peeks over my shoulder to try to catch another glimpse of the man who shouldn't be here but apparently is anyway. And then the door is closing, before I've even had a chance to correct her that Leo is certainly not my boyfriend, and Miss Jessica is gone, and I'm alone on the sidewalk with nothing but my profound confusion and a twisting of anxiety in my gut.

Because I can see him.

Sitting with his back to me on the grass bank across the street, his dark hair waving slightly in the winter wind and his corded arms stretched out behind him, there's no mistaking his identity.

Sucking in a breath, I cross the street and tentatively drop down onto my ass beside him.

"You're here."

"I'm here." He nods.

I pull my coat tighter around my shoulders, noting that he isn’t even wearing a sweater. The man must be fucking freezing. But he was a dick to me earlier, so why should I care?

He offers no further explanation, so I'm forced to ask, "Why?"

"Your brother told me where to find you."

Goddamnit, Alex.

Well, today is just full of surprises. And my shock must read on my face because he asks, "Are you mad at him? For telling me, I mean?"

I shake my head, looking straight ahead at the trees that line the entrance to Lincoln Park. "No, it's not that." Except it is, and Alex and I will be having some very stern words later. "I'm just surprised. We don't usually tell people about the time we spent here."

"The time you..." He trails off, and I turn to find a look of pure astonishment on his face. "Here? At the children's home?"

My heart sinks as I realize that Alex hadn't, in fact, disclosed the secret we've always worked hard to keep hidden. I have done that all on my own.

"He didn't tell you that part?"

Leo blinks at me—several times, actually. His eyelashes flutter up and down so fast I'm surprised he doesn't take flight. "No." He coughs. "No, he didn't."

"Oh."

"Oh," he repeats.

And thus ensues an incredibly awkward silence, whereby he continues his manic blinking in my direction, and I tear furiously at the blades of grass surrounding me like I have a personal vendetta against them.

"Guess there's a lot you don't know about me, huh?" I say finally, a grin on my face that isn't at all real but looks to be from the years I've spent perfecting the art of fake smiles.

"I'm beginning to realize that, yes."

More silence follows.

More crazy blinking.

More tearing at the grass.

God, this is uncomfortable.

"Look, Brynn," he says, shifting his body toward me so he can hypnotize me with his dark stare that Miss Jessica was so enamored by. Reluctantly, I do the same. "I'm sorry about being such a dick to you earlier, with the whole Adidas thing. I didn't know this is what you were doing. I thought you were shopping or some shit."

Well, color me amazed.

Leo Sullivan apologizing for being a dick? Did my brother punch him or something?

I look around at the sky dramatically, Leo's puzzled gaze following me as I do. "Sorry, I was just looking for flying pigs."

He doesn’t look amused. "Brynn, I'm being serious."

"I know. And I appreciate it. I do." I smile genuinely. "But can I ask? Would it have mattered if I was? Shopping, or shooting content, or doing any of the things I do that you deem unnecessary and frivolous? It's just…you told me you didn't need me today, so I made plans. And then when yours changed, you threw a temper tantrum because I didn't immediately drop what I was doing and come running. It's kind of like you just consider everything I do to be unimportant. Pointless even."

His eyes drop to his lap. A sorrowful mix of sadness and guilt mars his perfect face, and though I feel somewhat victorious that he's admitting he's in the wrong, I don't like the way his expression makes my heart constrict. He's an asshole, sure, but I don't want him to be sad.

That said, I won't be going easy on him.

No, sir.

He rubs a hand down his face. Scratches his neck. Sighs. "No," he admits quietly. "No, I guess it wouldn't have mattered."

"Because my time is mine to use however I want to, right?"

"Right." He nods.

"And just because our lives look different, that doesn't make mine inferior to yours."

"Right," he repeats. Nods again.

"And my career isn't something to look down on just because you don't understand it." I let that one hang there for a while before punctuating with, "Right?" again.

"Yeah," he responds gruffly then clears his throat. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" I prompt, wanting him to think for himself, to say something of worth that isn't just repeating everything I say.

"I mean, I kick a ball for a living, so I don't really have a leg to stand on." He says it with a hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes crinkling at the sides with both amusement and hope. And it takes everything in me not to smile right back. "But yeah, you're right. About everything. I've been an arsehole, and I'm sorry."

"You could have asked my brother as well, you know? He wasn't doing anything today and could have watched Say. I'm assuming that's where she is now?"

His brow creases again. "I didn't think about that."

"And therein lies the problem. You didn't even think about your other options before jumping down my throat, when I don’t even work weekends anyway." I'm not trying to make him feel worse. I just need him to realize his attitude toward me isn't okay. "Any other day, I would have jumped to spend more time with Say. It's just that there's this girl here. She can be a bit of a menace sometimes because of all the shit she's been through in her little life, and her latest foster family didn't wanna deal with her anymore, so they dropped her back here this morning. Anyway, we've got this kind of connection that she doesn't have with anyone else. I wish I could adopt her, actually, but I'm not in a stable enough position to do so right now. And she was crying for me, so I came. I had to. I couldn't leave her in the state she was in."

My eyes tear up as I think about how distraught Ivy was. All she wants is to be loved. She just doesn't know how to deal with all the wild emotions that storm away inside of her.

Leo, to his credit, looks positively shattered by my words.

"I didn't know," he whispers. "I never would have... If I knew, I wouldn't have..."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"You've said that already."

"Yeah, well, I mean it."

I let him stew in silence for a while—simply because I get a weird, sadistic sort of pleasure from watching a man of Leo's size squirm like a child who's been sent to the principal’s office—until, finally, I take pity on him and slip him a small smile to let him know that, for now, he's forgiven. And his entire face lights up at the sight of it, his shoulders deflating with relief.

I don't tell him it's okay, because it's not. An apology is a great starting place, but it means nothing without demonstrable action.

So I let my smile speak for itself. Temporary forgiveness. Easily retractable.

"You're still wearing my hat." He knocks the cap lightly with his knuckles, breaking the silence.

I frown, forgetting that I'd stolen it earlier during our highly confusing moment in the kitchen that was fraught with sexual tension—at least on my end. Mindlessly, my fingers reach up to skim across the visor.

"So I am."

"Can I have it back?" His smirk tells me he already knows the answer.

"Nope."

"That's the second one of mine you've stolen now."

"Yeah." I smile wide. "I'm starting a collection."

"Can't you buy your own?"

"I could.” I shrug. “Wouldn't be as fun, though."

He stands and holds out a large hand to help me up. Without discussing it, we begin the walk back to his car, both of us under the assumption that we'll be riding home together, him with his hands stuffed into his pockets, me with my arms wrapped around my abdomen to protect myself. From the chill in the air or the confusing feelings swirling in my gut, I don't know.

"You're a pain in my arse, you know that?" But he's smiling as he says it.

"Maybe. But you're a prick."

"Yeah." He shrugs. "You aren't the first person to tell me that today."