Chapter 6 Lindsey
SIX
LINDSEY
Brooks messaged me early this morning, about an hour before I was set to head to his place with the boys. Of course, Brandon has yet to drop them off, and Brooks has to get to the field soon, so now I’m stuck pacing my parents’ front lawn while I wait for two men to show up and dump news on me.
brOOKS: Can we talk about something?
What was I supposed to say? No, we can’t talk. Not about anything. Not ever.
I replied: Sure.
I’m sure Brooks wants to fire me. He’s been quiet ever since our kiss. Which, while I did like it, that man kissed me. So what if I kissed back!
Brandon took the boys for an extra weekend to celebrate their fourth birthdays with his family.
Their real birthday isn’t until Wednesday, but since his parents were in town for something else and rented some penthouse at a hotel with an indoor waterpark, I couldn’t exactly put my foot down.
Plus, we still don’t have a parenting plan nailed down.
Mostly because he wants everything, and I would prefer he walk straight off a cliff.
Brooks pulls up first, and my heart kicks at the bones in my chest.
Please don’t make that kiss more than it was. Please don’t back out on me. I need this job.
“Howdy,” I say, lifting a hand as he exits his driver’s side door. I instantly feel every bit of my country roots.
I cross my arms over my stomach in an attempt to settle my nerves. Brooks moves to the back seat, and when he unfastens Holly’s carrier, I exhale through my trembling lips. He’s not firing me today, at least.
“I’m sorry I’m stuck here. My ex was never on time when we were together, so no reason he should start now, I guess.” I give him a wry smile, and his eyes droop with what I think is a hint of empathy. I don’t want him feeling sorry for me.
“But it’s nice to see you, Miss Holly. Why, good morning!” I overexaggerate my smile as I take over the carrier, then squat to rock it on the ground while her tiny lips contort into a smile.
“She’s doing that a lot more now,” Brooks says. I glance up at him, squinting from the sun behind his head. I can see enough of his face to sense his pride. He’s good with her. Better than he gives himself credit for.
“It’s because her daddy makes her so happy.
Isn’t that right?” I tickle Holly’s feet gently, and she smiles bigger.
I hand her one of the soft toys clipped to the handle of her carrier, then stand back up and meet Brooks’s gaze.
There’s definitely an awkward barrier between us.
It’s been a week since our kiss, and I don’t think we’ve said more than a few words to one another during shift exchanges for his daughter.
“So . . .” I clasp my hands in front of my body and suck my lips into a tight line.
“Right,” he breathes out, laughing lightly. Maybe a little nervously. Is he nervous because he kissed me? Or is he nervous because he’s never let someone go before?
“I really am sorry about this. You having to come here, I mean. It won’t happen again.”
Not that I can control Brandon’s disregard for me and my schedule, but I mean the words as best as I can.
“No need to apologize. Seriously,” he says, waving a hand. My shoulders inch down, my muscles relaxing by about ten percent. I exhale through a tiny O I make with my lips.
“Phew,” I snicker, wiping my brow in jest. Though there might be some real sweat beading up there.
“But about that . . . me coming here. Or you not being at my place. Or . . . fuck, let me start over.”
He drops his gaze and shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He’s wearing compression pants under his black Mavericks’ practice shorts, and it’s hard to ignore his muscular thighs.
“I’d like to revisit the idea of you moving in with me.
I think it might really help me out, I mean.
And I wouldn’t expect you to work for free.
Or pay rent. I did some research, and I think I can swing seventeen-fifty a week plus room and board for you and the boys.
We’d need to split groceries and stuff like that, but I’m gonna be in Sweetwater a little longer than I thought, and I just think—”
“Yes!” I blurt out.
Brooks blinks a few times, then laughs nervously through a tempered smile.
“Yeah?” His brow lifts on one side. It’s cute. Too cute.
“Yes. I love taking care of Holly. And if you are really good with those salary terms, I can’t refuse your offer. Brooks, I need to get out of this house. I love my parents, but also . . .” I blow up at the loose hairs tickling my forehead.
He chuckles.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s hard going from running your own household to being in your childhood bedroom again,” he says.
“With two hyper boys of my own. Yeah, it’s hard.
Which leads to my only question. You have one bedroom?
” I squint as I level him with my query.
While there’s a small part of me that loves the one-bed trope idea, I’m not exactly in a position to see that through.
Especially if it would be Brooks, me, and three kids on the same mattress.
“For sure. I hear you. I actually talked to Roddy a few days ago, and there’s that place on his street—the one I mentioned before.”
“Back when this was a crazy idea?” I joke.
He laughs, glancing down, and a touch of pink hits his cheeks.
“Yeah, that time. Anyhow, it’s a two-story, and I know stairs suck—”
“Not when you’re a four-year-old boy,” I point out.
He points at me and nods.
“Valid point,” he says. “It also has horse property in the back.”
My eyes light up when I realize he’s talking about the old Quinn property.
That house was my dream house when I was a kid.
I can see with my adult eyes that the place is falling apart in places, but it’s got good bones.
And it would be really great to have access to the land for the boys. For Holly.
For me.
I could have a horse.
I shake my head when I realize how far ahead I’m dreaming. Who knows how long Brooks will be in town. But he’s in town now . . .
“I didn’t know that place was for sale.” I thought it was abandoned, actually.
Brooks shakes his head.
“The owners are renting it. I guess Roddy knows the investor, some horse guy who plans to retire there one day or something. But he was talking to Roddy about making some money off the place in the meantime, so Roddy put in a word for me. Anyhow, the guy called me last night and said the place is mine if I want it. The rent isn’t much more than the apartment I’m in. ”
My lips twitch at the corners, that urge to smile bigger than I should, hard to hold back.
“So, it’s a deal?” He looks at me with one eye squinting, and I swear he’s holding his breath.
I know he’s desperate for the help. I saw the legal paperwork he was working through on the counter in his apartment the other day, and he mentioned his paternity test coming up to prove to the state he’s Holly’s father.
He fell into fatherhood, but damn if he’s not putting in the work to do this right.
I hold out my hand to shake on our arrangement, but curl my fingers away when he reaches for me.
Holding up a finger with my other hand, I add one more ask to our deal.
“I still plan to go to school.” I hold my breath and meet his gaze with my own, biting down on my lower lip like a bad poker player who just pushed her chips to the center of the table.
Maybe I should have waited until we were literally sharing a roof before I threw the school thing out there.
It’s only that I have spent the last few days building myself back up for it after feeling so dejected after my meeting with the dean.
I understand the hill I’m climbing . . . from the bottom. I owe it to myself.
“Of course,” Brooks says, and I sink onto my heels with relief.
“Thank God!” I grasp his hand in both of mine and begin shaking it profusely. My enthusiasm must tickle him, because he starts to throw his head back with laughter.
“Ahem.”
The sour tone that colors the increasingly familiar disdain in my ex’s fake throat-clearing kills the temporary joy in the air, and I drop my hands from Brooks’s and twist my body so I’m facing Brandon as he stands at the edge of my parents’ lawn.
“You’re late.” I glare at him with the same hard look he’s giving me.
“Someone forgot to pack the boys’ clean underwear, so we had to make a stop at Target this morning so they don’t show up to pre-school commando.” He’s dangling their backpacks in both fists on either side of his body while his eyelids flutter in that judgmental way I’ve become numb to.
“Hi, Mom! We’re ready! Let’s go!” Deacon races past me toward the van. He likes to be the one to pull the sliding door. Riggs stops at my side long enough to throw his arms around me, and the embrace lands more like a punch to the bladder.
“Good morning. Get in the van with your brother,” I say, dropping a kiss on what smells like dirty hair. I scrunch my nose as I bring my focus back to Brandon.
“I suppose you didn’t make sure they showered since I didn’t pack a whole damn bath for them?” I purse my lips, and he responds with his typical fake laugh.
“Who’s this? Pool boy?” He glances toward Brooks, then lowers his gaze to the sweet baby playing happily in her carrier by Brooks’s feet. My frown picks up into a smirk. It’s pretty fucking obvious who Brooks is, and it’s not a pool boy. He’s wearing Maverick’s team gear, for the love of Pete.
“We don’t have a pool here.” I decide giving him a non-answer is a lot more satisfying, but Brandon brushes my snarky comment off and heads right to Brooks to introduce himself.
“Hi, I’m Brandon. I’m their father.” He takes Brooks’s hand with a firm grip, and I can’t help but titter lightly at Brooks’s reaction. His mouth curves up on the side closest to me, and he glances my way with a flash of an expression that reads the fuck?
“Are you going to be hanging around here?” Brandon continues. “Because I should know anyone who might be around my boys for longer than a short interaction.”
“Our boys. And are we really doing this?” I step into my ex’s personal space enough that he seems compelled to drop his vice grip on Brooks’s hand.
“Doing what, Linds?” His fake smile is as gross as the pretend laugh.
“Pointing out new people who might be hanging around our boys all of a sudden?”
I’m, of course, insinuating Caitlyn, his former student who I caught him having an affair with, and who I am certain joined them all for the birthday festivities. Not to mention their stay in the penthouse suite.
Brandon rolls his eyes as he peels his glare away from me, gesturing toward Brooks before sauntering toward his Land Rover.
“I’m his freaking nanny, dumbass. Not a cougar,” I bite out. Not that I’m that much older than Brooks. Hell, maybe four years at the most. And Brandon’s older than me. And Caitlyn just graduated from college. Grrrr! I hate that he’s made me feel defensive.
“Hey, Brandon,” Brooks says all of a sudden.
I swallow down the dry knot lodged in my esophagus.
I want to reach for his arm and stop him from following my ex to his vehicle, but my feet seem firmly planted in the earth.
Probably because a small part of me is hoping Brooks is going to punch my ex in the teeth.
“What, kid?” Brandon’s words are purposeful, meant to belittle me and put Brooks in his place.
It’s because my ex has always been an alpha without the street cred to back it up.
He’s an academic nerd. He gets off on being smarter than other people and throwing big words into conversations where they don’t belong.
“I just thought you should know I’m her father. Right there,” he says, nodding toward Holly. “And you and I might run into each other a lot on account of Lindsey and I being roommates.”
Brandon’s smug grin droops instantly, and his focus zips to me. I merely waggle my fingers from my folded-arm posture. My turn to grin.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Brooks adds, stepping in close enough to put one of his wide palms on Brandon’s shoulder.
He meets him eye-to-eye, and from my vantage point, the physique comparison is comical.
Brandon’s skinny pants and fitted dress shirt aren’t helping his slim frame.
He looks like a well-dressed pile of bones Brooks spit out after eating a whole chicken.
“What’s that?” Brandon grits out.
Brooks leans in close, and his mouth curves into a faintly devilish smile.
“I ain’t no kid.”
His words linger between the two of them for a beat before Brooks pats his hand twice on Brandon’s shoulder and marches away.
He stops at Holly’s carrier, near my feet, and squats to give his daughter his index finger.
She wraps her tiny fingers around it and gurgles. Brooks glances up at me cautiously.
“He leave?”
Just then, Brandon rumbles his Land Rover into drive, and pulls away.
“Yeah, he sure did.” My smile spreads the farther away his annoying PROF ME license plate gets.
I shift my attention to Brooks when he stands, and he holds out a fist for me to bump. I push my knuckles into his, and our fingers press together for a moment. It feels . . . like more than a fist bump.
“Good riddance,” he finally says, his eyes narrowing on mine until the blue is literally all I see. “That guy? He’s a dick.”
“He is,” I agree.
And then he leaves me with this mysterious knowing smile, a look I plan on dissecting and obsessing over—along with that jealous display by my ex—for the rest of the day.
I daresay this day of mine is looking up.