Chapter 7 – Brianna #2
The thing about this entire situation is that Lochlan Davis knows me well now.
He's been coming into the PT facility for weeks for a shoulder issue, and when he walked into that gym last night and said my name, the look on his face when he saw me with Seth told me everything.
He knew who I was. Which means Seth now knows.
Which means the man who is about to be my part-time employer is currently somewhere in this town thinking that I was aware of who he was Halloween night, said nothing, kissed him back anyway, and then ran away. Twice now.
It’s not like I’ll have to interact with him. I’ll be spending time with his daughter while he’s traveling or doing other things for the team. I’m not sure what they do at the end of their evenings if they don’t have a game but, in those instances, I won’t have to help.
I try to recall the few details he mentioned about her that night before we got naked. He said she loves sloths. That alone makes her instantly cool in my book. This will be fine. Easy, even.
I glance down at my coffee mug, gripping it too tightly as I trace the tiny chips and hairline cracks along the rim.
How many people have sipped from this exact mug before me?
How many held it while making tough, life changing decisions?
How many received bad news while clutching it between their hands? How many received good news?
Sisterhood of the traveling mug.
"Bri." Natasha's voice is gentler now, which means she's noticed the spiral.
"I know I put you in a weird spot by not asking first. I'm sorry about that part.
I genuinely forgot until Boone texted me this week and I panicked.
" She pauses. "But I already told him yes.
And I can't do it. And you need the money. "
"You already told him yes," I repeat.
"On your behalf, yes."
"Without consulting me?"
"You were busy finishing your doctorate. You were always studying with your glasses on and hair tied up. Plus, I’ve been at the bar a lot lately…" her voice trails off and I can see the guilt and desperation in her expression.
"The girl," I say finally. "Sawyer. What's she like?"
Something in Natasha's expression softens almost imperceptibly.
"Boone says she's great. Sweet kid, adjusting to a new school, needs some stability while her dad figures out the season schedule. She’s into reading.
" She pauses. "There was mention of The Goonies. Which you’ll find endearing or strange.”
I already find it very endearing. I found it endearing ten months ago when I picked Seth for my one-night stand. I still find it endearing.
That's the problem.
I love kids. I've always loved kids. When I first started in PT, I thought I'd work with pediatric patients, and somewhere along the way sports and professional athletes pulled me sideways, but the instinct never went away.
A twelve-year-old navigating a new town, a new school, a single dad who I know from personal observation seems to carry a lot of weight—that's not just a nanny gig.
That's a kid who could use someone in her corner.
And I could use the money. And Natasha already said yes on my behalf, which means I can’t let her down either.
“So…What are you thinking?” she asks me.
I reach across the bar, giving her hand a quick, affectionate squeeze. “I’m just appreciating the beauty in how unexpected this all is. You’re right, I do need the money, and I’ll be helping Sawyer and Seth out. There’s beauty in that.”
She smiles but pulls her hand back. “You don’t realize just how touchy you are.”
I throw my head back, laughing, because I got that from my mother.
And even though the ache of losing her is still ever-present, it makes me happy when someone notices the ways she lives on in me.
She was warm. Affectionate. Always touching the people she loved, always holding me tight, always expressing love through small physical gestures.
She’s the one who taught me to be kind to everyone and see beauty in every wild, seemingly random, opportunity.
“Physical affection is my love language.”
Natasha smiles. “Well, save some of that up for Seth and his daughter.”
I immediately choke on my own saliva imagining touching Seth again.
Because yes, I romanticize my life. Always have.
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve imagined my own great love story—the kind that spans five hundred pages of slow-burn tension and heart-stopping devotion.
But what happened with Seth that Halloween night wasn’t romantic.
I’ve taken some time to process it, and I know that for certain now.
It was messy, impulsive and incredibly hot.
I’ve never felt that way before. But it wasn’t romance.
That’s what I’m focusing on.
I blow out a slow breath. "If this goes sideways—"
"I'll owe you enormously. I’ll pay in a wild night out in New York City."
I laugh. “That sounds fun.”
The corner of her mouth lifts. "Rhiannon and I will have to tell you about the times we used to have. So, you'll do it then?"
I think about Seth's face last night. The way something shifted in him right before I left. The recognition, the calculation, the jaw tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with what came after it. I think about showing up at his door and what that conversation is going to look like when he realizes he’s hiring me.
I think about the fifty dollars an hour and my mother's medical bills and the fact that I have literally no other viable alternative that works with my new schedule.
I think about Sawyer, who likes sloths, who doesn't know any of this, who just needs someone to pick her up from volleyball practice and help prep dinner while her dad is away.
Seth and I won’t even have to interact. This will be fine.
"You're going to owe me so much," I say.
Natasha slaps the bar counter once, satisfied. "Already told Boone. You start tomorrow."
I reach for another fry and stare at my open textbook without reading any of it while hoping tomorrow doesn’t go as poorly as I think it will.