Chapter 39
39
LEO
I have a couple of things to figure out.
One. Did I come in my pants like a teenager because I loved Briar’s taste that much, or because I was too excited about the prospect of her pushing me around? I mean, no one has ever bossed me around like that, and although I’ve thought of myself as pretty dominant in bed, maybe I like both.
At least, when Briar’s the one telling me what to do.
Two. Am I in love with Briar Crosby.
Well, that answer is a very clear resounding yes. Not that I’d ever tell her that right now. I may seem like an idiot but I’m not totally stupid. The best way to scare her off? Come off too strong with my feelings.
We’ve come a little ways, let’s pace ourselves.
Three. Do I admit what happened to her? I mean, the come in my pants part.
I stop in the middle of my bedroom, hands on my hips, thinking it over.
Maybe she would think it’s hot.
No, she’s going to think I’m inexperienced. Not that that’s a bad thing .
Maybe I’ll admit it.
Nope, no I will not.
Going with that, I head to the bathroom to wash off quick before grabbing a pair of new sweats. The boot I’m in sucks and the only thing I can think about is not having to wear it in a couple of weeks. If everything goes well, I’ll be walking like normal soon and begin rehab.
Heading back downstairs, I don’t ask to enter the room this time. I don’t ask to climb into bed as her warm brown eyes watch as I cross the room. Instead, I just do.
Instead of saying something sassy, Briar watches me get comfy before she lets out a heavy sigh, and in an instant, she’s curling into me, her right leg hooking over mine, her head at my shoulder.
Almond soap envelopes my senses, and I dip my head down to her head in an attempt to discreetly get more of it.
“Smelling your fake girlfriend you just tongue fucked is a little creepy, don’t you think?” she chuckles groggily.
Instead of answering, I just say, “You sound happy.”
“Mmm,” she moans, nuzzling into me more.
“What are we watching?”
“Ten Things I Hate About You,” she responds quietly as it begins.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one.”
Briar snorts, lifting her face to glance at me.
“What?” I chuckle.
“I hardly picture you as a romance movie kinda guy, Warner.”
And it’s my turn to laugh. “Excuse you, I’m a huge romance movie guy. Star Wars is one of the most romantic movies I’ve ever seen.”
I feel her body vibrate, and a warmth flows through me I can’t quite place. “Star Wars doesn’t count. What’s your obsession anyways? And corrupting my daughter, Warner? Not cool. ”
“Hey,” I put my free hand up in defense. “She was the one who practically hacked my x-box. The second she saw Lego Star Wars she was all in.”
Briar shakes her head against me. “Sure, Warner.”
“It’s true.”
“Shut up and watch the movie.”
“Yes ma’am.”
It’s been a couple of days and to say I’ve been a smiling doofus is an understatement. There hasn’t been a single moment I haven’t stopped smiling.
Briar made it abundantly clear that she thinks this is just human need. We both require connection, and if we’re stuck in this situation we might as well take advantage of it.
Sure, it’s a roadblock, because that’s certainly not what I feel. But it’s a tiny step in the right direction, and I’ll take it.
“Someone is whipped ,” Cooper mutters, elbowing Dirwin in the side, reminding me of the way Isla would stab me in the ribs when we were kids.
Unwilling to grace him with a response, I roll my eyes, looking over the pile of presents in front of us. “Do you think there’s enough?” I ask.
Piles of vinyl and toys crowd my family room. Briar is out for the day working on her cookbook while Elara is at school and I enlisted the boys to help wrap all of this.
I know Briar isn’t a fan of expensive things, and I have my own idea of what to get her. Something that isn’t my dick in a box like Cooper suggested.
Neither Briar nor Elara have opened up much about Tony, but from everything I’ve gathered, neither of them have gotten much from him other than a string of broken things, at the top of the list, their hearts.
I get why they don’t talk about him much.
The other day Briar seemed shocked when I had asked her what she was doing for Christmas.
“I don’t know,” she told me, her eyes wide and inquisitive. “I was just going to get Elara a few things and make dinner.”
I had leaned against the wall, very aware of how hard she was working to keep her eyes on my face and not on my arms. “What do you guys usually do?”
Briar had started to fidget, her eyes shifting as she looked around for the measuring cup right in front of her. She had been making Christmas cookies for the team, perfecting a recipe for her cookbook.
She still hasn’t shared many details about the book with me, but I’ve been so excited to see the finished product, ready with money in hand to push the marketing as much as I can.
She shrugged, brushing the few strands of hair much too short to stay in her ponytail out of her eyes, some flour from her fingertips falling on her black top. “I don’t know Leo,” she said almost exasperatedly. “We just have our little Christmas. We haven’t had much, and that’s totally fine.”
Briar has been fairly open about her struggle with money in the last few years. She doesn’t like material things. She’s been frugal. She’s made by on what she has and the little money she’s been able to bring in.
But she gets embarrassed whenever it comes to how that affects Elara, and I get it. She’s done the absolute best she can for her daughter, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t some shame there.
She had, however, ensured me that if there was ever anything she really needed for her, she swallowed her pride and did ask Owen. He would ask her what else he could do, and she would say nothing. Things were just tight that week. She had to miss some shifts from work but it would be okay. Things were good.
Elara’s needs always came first, but she wasn’t about to admit her secrets to her brother.
I still haven’t quite figured out exactly why.
I respect her and Elara’s cozy Christmases, and I’m sure she’s going to have some kind of problem with what I’m doing. That’s in her nature. But I want to make sure this is memorable for them. I want to make sure Elara knows that one man in her life adores her—me? Adoring a kid? I can’t believe it, either—and wants to spoil her.
And hopefully, if everything goes well, maybe her mom will allow me to spoil them for the rest of their lives.
Dirwin looks around at the dozens of presents around us and chuckles. “I think this is more than enough, man. I think you’re going to have your ass handed to you.”
I bristle at the idea.
“It’s about Elara,” I tell him, sitting back.
“I’m sure it is,” Cooper mutters.
“How’s the list coming along?” Emmett asks, adding tape to the end of his present. His daughter is spending the day at a friends, and it’s one of the first times in quite a bit we’ve been able to hang out. He still hasn’t found another nanny.
“I, well, I haven’t done much of it,” I admit. There hasn’t been a huge opportunity. She hasn’t made soup yet, but I guess I should be the one to initiate. “I’m going to though, and I have things to add to it, actually,” I tell them.
“Wait, how far have you gotten with her?” Coop nudges, and I know him well enough that at least this time, he doesn’t mean sex.
Which is great, because I’d never tell them anyway.
“We’ve been friendlier,” I admit, grabbing my water off the coffee table and downing half of it in two seconds flat. “But I think she believes it’s just because we’re stuck in this entanglement. ”
The guys look at each other.
“Are you going to tell her that it’s not?” Dirwin asks hesitantly.
I worry my bottom lip, wincing. “I want to, but I don’t want to scare her off, you know?”
Cooper looks around at all the presents with a raised eyebrow but stays silent.
“Anyways, there’s more interesting things to talk about. Like how Dirwin is absolutely leaving us at the end of the season,” I say flatly, my eyes narrowing.
“What do you mean?” he laughs nervously as we stare.
“You know what I mean. What the hell? I knew you were good but that’s not backup quarterback good, Dirwin. If you don’t leave us I’ll kick your ass.”
I watch as a deep crimson blush heats his cheeks. “You know I’ll miss you guys, right?”
“I’ll just have to kick your ass on the field next season,” I assure him.
Because despite the fact that I’ll miss the hell out of him, I want the absolute best for my friend.
Even if that means beating his ass a year from now.
I hold my breath as Briar and Elara walk through the door, the rustling of a paper bag the first thing that hits my ears. The second is Champ’s paws pitter pattering toward me. The second she rounds the corner and she sees me, her eyes light up and she comes bounding in my direction, letting out a happy bark.
“You look exhausted,” I tell her as if she could understand me. She nuzzles into me in response, and I pat her head.
“Make sure you hang up your coat,” Briar tells Elara from the entryway. “It’s been on the floor the last few times I’ve come out here and we don’t need anyone tripping on it, alright?”
The heels of her boots echo in the room as she comes into view, the small smile on her face falling as she looks around the packed room.
“What?” she says quietly, her eyes zeroing in on me. “What is this?”
“Well, it’s mostly for Elara,” I tell her quickly.
“I—”
“Oh my god,” Elara yells as she walks into the room, her little arms glued to her sides as she looks around, her jaw on the floor.
“Gosh,” Briar corrects her.
“God is the proper term for this, mom. It’s Christmas,”
“That’s not—” realizing she doesn’t have the energy to correct anything about that statement, Briar swallows her words, instead crossing her arms over her chest.
“Can we get a tree?” Elara asks, turning to her mom and pulling on her light blue sweater.
Briar looks at me, blinking slowly, her eyes wide.
I nod subtly, and after a few beats, her chin moves downward just an inch, her eyes understanding.
“We’ll get a tree,” she tells her, her eyes back to the stack of presents behind me.
“When?” she asks.
While Briar sputters like a truck stuck in mud, I step in. “How about tomorrow night?” I ask.
Shooting me a thankful look, Briar nods. “Tomorrow night sounds great.”
“I want the fattest tree here,” Elara whispers, dragging her mom and I through the rows of Christmas trees.
With Briar’s hand firmly grasped in her left and mine in her right, Elara bulldozes her way toward the biggest tree she can find.
“You need to ask Leo if he wants that big of a tree,” Briar tells her as she realizes just which tree we’re headed toward, a panicked twinkle in her eyes.
I look it over, breathing in the calming scent of pine surrounding us.
We drove a little outside of the city to a small Christmas tree farm. Thankfully, despite how close it is to the holiday, they still had some great ones in stock, and the second Elara hopped out of the car, she knew exactly which one she wanted to see.
Elara’s large puffer jacket shook with every step she took, a large smile on her face as she pulled us toward it.
“We can get whatever tree she wants,” I assure her. Sure, it may be a little big for the space, but we’ll make due. The girls get whatever they want, no matter what.
Elara looks at me, her eyes even wider with wonder. “Really?” she asks, her head snapping back to her mother’s so fast I almost fear she gets whiplash.
Briar rolls her eyes. “I guess we can get it. Let’s inspect it first.”
“Inspect it?” Elara places her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to the right as she watches her mom circle the ginormous tree in the center of all the others.
Briar points to another tree to the left. “You see that tree and the bald spot on the back? Sometimes trees look pretty from the front but terrible from the back.”
Briar’s phone rings, the generic tone blaring through the low hum of Christmas music over the speakers positioned on the barn wall about fifty feet away. The fact that she has the ringer turned on makes me think it’s something important that she’s been expecting, considering she’s had no problem completely ignoring texts and calls in the past.
Her eyes sliding over to mine, Briar nods toward Elara, knowing I’ve got her. She takes out her phone, presses accept, and walks off, placing one hand against her ear to hear better.
“You think this will fit in my place?” I ask Elara.
She looks up at me, pursing her lips before looking back at her mom. “I think it’ll fit fine,” she says, her hands on her hips.
“I think so too, kid.”
Whoever had been on the other end of that phone call hadn’t been good. Or, rather, their news hadn’t been good.
Briar held it together the best she could as we got the tree loaded onto the top of her truck, and when her brother met us outside of our building, ready to help bring the monster up, Briar asked if we needed her, quick to disappear upstairs. She seemed oddly thankful when Elara had told her she wanted to stay to oversee everything.
I watch her disappear into the building, worry creeping through me, making the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
I really hope she’s okay.
“What did you do now?” Owen said with a small smirk.
My head whips to him, a scowl already in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Owen immediately realizes he messed up, an apology in his eyes. “I just hope she’s okay,” he tells me.
“I do too.”
“Come on guys, the tree is going to die out here,” Elara huffs, ready to get inside and get warm .
Owen rolls his eyes, picking up the trunk of the tree as I get the top. In the beginning I had tried to avoid getting sap all over myself, but I had abandoned that quest long ago. I feel like every part of me is sticky and I desperately need a shower.
Heaving the massive thing through our doors, it doesn’t take long before we realize we can’t fit it in our elevator. We sit it against a wall, scratching our heads before Elara shoves forward, her hand on her tiny hip as she bounces up the stairs.
Dramatically throwing her blonde hair over her shoulder, she looks back at us. “I thought you guys played sports?” she asks before starting her climb once more.
“Little brat,” Owen mutters.
Grabbing the tree again, we start up the first flight.
And the second.
And the third.
Eventually, I lose count, hoping Owen sees the numbers on the door and isn’t as delirious and numb. Although I can walk now and I’ve started rehab, Mission Christmas Tree is putting it to the absolute test.
“You owe me so many beers,” Owen winces, losing his balance a little and hitting the wall.
“Noted,” I grit back.
When we’re finally at my apartment, I struggle to get my keys out of my pocket. After struggling, I toss them to Elara, asking her to open the door for us. She lets us in quickly, and we set the tree down in the family room.
Breathing heavily, Owen looks the tree up and down. “Do you guys have a tree stand we can set this up in?” he asks, looking around.
I slap my hand to my face. “I knew we were forgetting something,” I moan, annoyed with myself. “Let’s just set it up against the corner for now.”
Lifting it one more time, we struggle to set it in the corner of my apartment, right between the wall of windows and the TV.
Examining our work, I nod to myself.
“Thanks man,” I tell him, offering my hand for a high-five.
His hand collides with mine, and we both watch as Elara’s brows furrow. She walks toward the office, placing her ear against the door.
“Why’s mom crying?” she asks softly, turning toward us with concern.
I look at Owen, who’s brown eyes are trained on mine.
I think I know the reason.
“Can you take her for a bit?” I ask him. His eyes narrow. “This has nothing to do with me, I promise. But it’s not my thing to tell you.”
His face softens just a touch, but I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me.
“I promise,” I repeat.
He nods.
“Elara, let’s go work on that puzzle, okay? We have to finish it soon or it’s going to get ruined.”
Her jaw immediately drops, as if she’s shocked that a puzzle would be taken apart if left untouched for weeks.
Within a couple of minutes, they’re gone.
With a deep breath, I make my way to the door slowly, hearing Briar’s muffled cries from the other side.
I don’t bother knocking.
Briar is curled up in her office chair, her eyes red. My guess is she’s been in here since the second she got home.
Brows furrowing, I close in on her, kneeling in front of her and taking her cold hands in mine.
She won’t meet my eyes.
“Hey,” I say, ducking my head to try to catch her gaze. “What’s going on, Sunny?”
She shakes her head, looking away.
My heart sinks. “Please tell me,” I whisper .
She sniffles, pulling her gray cardigan closer into her. “I don’t suppose you know anything about an article that’s hitting the news tomorrow, do you?”
My heart starts thudding in my chest faster and faster as I try my hardest to think of what she could possibly mean. But I can’t think of a single thing.
I shake my head. “I don’t know of anything, Briar.”
Her eyes snap to mine, anger raging inside of them. “I don’t know if I can believe that,” she hisses.
My head tilts to the side as panic rises inside of me. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
She scoffs. “Apparently Tony knows someone who works at one of the big newspapers. Says that there’s an article coming out tomorrow about how we’re engaged.”
I feel like someone threw ice on me.
I pull out my phone, realizing I haven’t checked it properly in days. I’ve had some calls, but a lot of them were from numbers I hadn’t recognized, and I just sort of assumed someone had leaked my number again, and I hadn’t gotten around to getting a new one.
Scrolling through my texts, I see it.
My publicist asking me to call her back.
About ten times.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I can’t help the “fuck!” that comes out of my mouth.
“What did that dickhead say to you?” I growl, my hands on either side of her legs as I readjust myself so I can keep kneeling in front of her without my ankle killing me.
She shakes her head, looking away again.
“Briar,” I tell her, tightening my grip.
She bites her lip, her hands trembling in her lap. “He said that he knows it’s not real, and that if I don’t break up with you he’ll leak fake stories to the press about me. About me being a bad mom. Said he’ll ruin your reputation and mine. ”
“And he’d try to get Elara back,” I say, filling in the blanks.
She nods, a sob breaking free as she doubles over, burying her face in her hands.
Taking a deep breath, I rise, scooping her up in my arms. To my surprise she doesn’t struggle, instead looping her arms around my neck for security.
Nudging the door open, I make my way down the hall until we’re in her room, and I lay her in bed, climbing in next to her.
And I just hold her.
We stay like that for what feels like hours, her face buried into my chest, my shirt matted to me with tears.
My fingers make their way through her hair, grazing her scalp as I go. When her sobs finally subside, I rest my cheek on the crown of her head.
I’ve never been good with emotions. Never been good at showing them and never been good at dealing with them, no matter how hard I’ve tried.
I’m a firm believer that men should be able to show emotion, but living by that is a whole other thing.
When my sister first got her heart broken as a teenager she was a mess for a couple of days. I had offered to beat the kid up if she wanted me to. I promised I would. But I had no idea how to deal with the tears.
What can I say to make someone feel better? I know when I’ve been upset, there’s nothing anyone has ever said or done that has made anything any better. Not even a little bit.
When I had gone off to college my mother was a complete mess, and I felt awful that I had hugged her and practically ran away.
There had been other times that people would cry in front of me, and I’ve never known the right thing to say.
But here with Briar, soothing her in my arms, I feel confident that saying nothing at all is the right choice .
Sometimes someone just needs to cry it out without anyone trying to make it better.
Sometimes things are bad. Terrible even. Sometimes life kicks you down with all its might, stomping all over us. We’re allowed to cry about it. We’re allowed to feel it.
We don’t always have to numb ourselves with positivity.
When Briar’s body relaxes in mine, her breath slowing, I kiss her temple, sliding out from under her.
She watches me as I head to the bathroom, grabbing some soap and pumping it into the tub before turning on the faucet.
I know women love a bath hotter than the devils asshole, but I test it, making sure it’s not too bad. I’d rather her have to add hot water than be burned and upset.
When it’s hotter than I’d like, but still not scorching, I let it fill a bit, exiting the room and finding Briar’s open book on her bedside table. I grab it, saying nothing as I feel her gaze on my back.
Dimming the light, I grab the candles in the closet and light them, placing them around the bathroom.
When I’m finally satisfied, I head back out of the room, making my way to the bed.
Briar watches me curiously as I scoop her up in my arms once more, and when we’re back in the bathroom, I set her down.
Her shoulders slump and she’s a bit wobbly, but she’s standing. Looking her over, I lightly tug at the hem of her shirt.
Her eyes find mine, wide and curious. “May I?” I ask quietly.
She gives me a faint nod.
Slipping her cardigan off her shoulders, I toss it across the room before lifting her shirt to reveal a simple light blue bra.
But I never once take my eyes off hers, and her curiosity only deepens.
I unbutton her jeans, continuing to watch her eyes study me as I pull them down. When she steps out of them, now only in her underwear, she doesn’t shy away from me.
Instead, she looks up at me expectantly.
I continue to watch her as my hand snakes behind her, her skin scorching my fingers as they find their way to the hooks of her bra. Fumbling, I finally get it undone, and the straps fall down her shoulders.
She doesn’t move to slip it off.
Worrying my lip, I gently bring my fingers to the delicate straps, pulling them down to expose her beautiful chest.
But I try my hardest not to look. Instead, I keep my eyes glued to her face, even as my fingers gently make their way down to her hips, twisting in her underwear and pulling them down, too.
She steps out of them.
Standing in front of me naked, I can confidently say that even without studying every part of her, even without taking my eyes off of her beautiful face, I know with certainty that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life .
Scooping her up again, she brings her arms around my neck as I set her carefully in the water.
Her eyes shut as her body disappears beneath the bubbles, and I swear I hear her moan.
Fuck.
“Thank you,” she whispers, looking down.
“Always,” I tell her.
Settling behind her, because I’m not done just yet, I grab her book and hand it to her. She takes it without hesitation, opening to whatever page she was on as I get to work massaging her shoulders.
We don’t say a single word for what feels like an hour.
Not until she asks me to grab her phone and put on some music.
“What kind of music do you want?” I ask.
She shrugs, water sluicing over the side of the tub. “I don’t know. Just click on my favorites playlist and hit shuffle.”
The playlist starts off tame. The typical nineties boyband hits, plus some eighties hairband mixed in.
It’s not until about fifteen minutes in, when some early two thousands boyband is immediately followed by Nickleback, that I have some questions. “Interesting playlist you have here,” I mutter.
Her shoulders shake as she chuckles, her book dipping into the bubbles just enough to get a corner of the pages damp.
“You don’t like them?”
“I had to listen to them all the time because of Isla. I swear she’s like some kind of sick superfan. I get being a fan of someone like Beyonce, or even a boyband like One Direction. I just can’t wrap my head around being a huge fan of Nickleback of all bands.”
Briar gasps. “I can’t believe you just said that,” she feigns hurt.
I roll my eyes with a smile. “You get what I mean.”
She shakes her head. “I think Chad is one of the greatest singers of our generation.”
I dip my hand into the water in front of her, splashing it up at her chest. “Now I know you’re lying.”
“I’m not!”
Her laugh rings through the bathroom, and it does something deep within me.
It occurs to me that I’d like to hear this laugh for the rest of my life.