Chapter 27 – Brianna
“Hey, Bri,” Penn greets me as he strolls into the training room where I’m just finishing up with his teammate, Lochlan.
“Oh no, he’s back,” I groan playfully, glancing up at him. “Is your ankle bothering you again?”
He flashes me that signature grin that I know has every employee at the Mayhem agreeing to whatever mischief he comes up with.
I met Penn a year ago when he hooked up with my friend Alexa and told me about Brookhaven.
Since then, I’ve come to realize he’s the one who keeps the team laughing the most.
“Coach Steele just wants you to take a quick look. Maybe some dry needling if you’ve got the time.”
I smile, finishing the last bit of taping on Lochlan’s leg. “You should be good to go,” I tell him softly, giving the tape a gentle pat. “Can’t wait to see you play again on Saturday.”
“Thanks, Bri,” Lochlan says, swinging his legs off the table with an easy smile as Penn moves in to take his place.
“Let me grab my supplies from the other room. I have a little time before I need to catch the train so we can get some needling done. I’ll be right back.”
"Take your time," Penn replies casually, but his eyes track me as I move to the door, and I don't miss it.
He's interested—he's always interested—but then again, Penn flirts the way most people breathe.
And when the only man I can't get out of my head plays goal for this team, Penn's attention lands somewhere between flattering and completely pointless.
The training room is a mess. My father's renovation announcement to shareholders has turned the whole space upside down and most of the supplies I need for treatment have migrated into the small walk-in closet next door, nothing where it should be.
Most days it's a minor inconvenience. Today, with a train to catch, it’s cutting into my time.
The supply closet is cool and quiet. I pull the needles, arrange what I need on the cart, run through my mental checklist. Satisfied, I reach for the door handle—and it swings open before I touch it. Seth fills the doorway.
“Seth.” My voice comes out as a whisper, my pulse spiking instantly.
His damp hair is tousled, like he just got out of the shower, and he’s wearing a tight, ripped Mayhem jersey with the sleeves cut off showcasing every lean, chiseled oblique muscle on his body. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over how handsome Seth is.
He turns, locking the door behind him.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. He advances on me with a smile, and when he runs his hand through his hair before cupping my cheek tenderly, I melt.
“I was looking for you,” he says. He backs me up until my butt hits the cool cement wall. His head dips low, his nose skimming the sensitive skin along my neck as he drags a heated line up to my ear. “You always smell so fucking good.”
One hand clamps around my hip, yanking me flush against him so I can feel how hard he is for me.
His other hand threads through my hair, tugging gently until my head tilts back, giving him full access to my mouth.
My body hums with anticipation, my mind barely catching up before I’m wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.
It must surprise him that I act first because he pauses for a heartbeat, then growls low in his throat as he takes over, deepening the kiss until I’m drowning in him.
His hand skims downward, across my breasts, over my stomach and right to my thighs, before gripping and hiking one leg around his hip.
When I instinctively lift the other, he catches me easily, lifting me off the ground, holding me against the wall, rolling his pelvis against me and hitting exactly where I need him.
“Soul,” he pants against my lips, his forehead pressed to mine, his hazel eyes dark and stormy.
“Soul?” I whisper.
He pulls back a little. “Sawyer’s my Spirit, and you’re my Soul.”
My chest tightens. It's only been three days since I slipped out of his house before Sawyer woke up, and I’m still trying to process what he told me.
I saw Sawyer Tuesday briefly after work, rushed home to get her from practice and set her up with dinner, but she ended up at a new friend's house instead.
Seth picked her up later. I wasn't needed, which should have been a relief and wasn't, because I missed her.
I missed him. And not because he stopped trying to get me to come over.
He texted every night. Invited me over every night.
And every night I had somewhere else to be.
Dinner with Natasha, who's been running herself ragged between the bar and everything else.
Picking up her shift to cover. Nails with Rosie, Rhiannon, and Alessia.
I told myself I was busy; I was, but I was also hiding.
Because the truth is I'm terrified. Not of my father finding out, not of what it means for Sawyer, though both of those things keep me up at night too.
I'm terrified because Seth has been broken before.
He's lost things I can't imagine losing, and I still don't know if his heart has room for the kind of love I want to give. The kind I need to receive.
“How would you feel about me dropping to my knees and getting you off right now,” he murmurs, his voice raw with need.
I would love that. But I’m at work and, “Penn’s in the next room,” I tell him, though my resolve is slipping fast. “He’s waiting for me to do some dry needling on his ankle.”
Seth groans, rocking his hips against me, the heat of his erection pressing deliciously against my clit. “I have something that needs needling too.”
I laugh and brush my lips against his. “I’ll see you tonight? After Sawyer’s practice?” I whisper. “Maybe we could... um, talk.”
His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to decipher what I’m saying. “She’s staying at her new friend’s house again. Overnight.”
“On a school night?”
“Trust me, I didn’t like it either,” he grumbles, pressing his forehead back to mine.
“But she begged. Puppy dog eyes were used, promised she’d already finished all her homework and would go to bed at a reasonable time.
I also talked to the girl’s mother who said she’d have them in bed by eight.
And seeing her making friends here, well, I couldn’t tell her no. ”
My heart squeezes. I know exactly what he means. Saying no to Sawyer when she’s that excited is impossible. I’m glad she’s making friends.
I press my hands to his jaw, tilting his face so I can see him. “Okay,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment because that means this will be another night where I won’t see him. Another night where we’re just a few houses apart but not together.
“Okay?” he chuckles. “Why do you sound so disappointed? That means you’re still coming over and spending the night with me. Let me make you dinner for a change.”
Does that mean this is our first official date?
"I…" I hesitate.
I want to know him. More than I've wanted to connect with anyone in my life.
But my heart is fragile in a way his isn't, and that terrifies me in a completely different direction.
Seth has already survived the worst kind of loss.
He knows what it is to love something completely and have it taken.
I've never come close to that. My last relationship ended the way you'd close a tab at a restaurant.
Mutual. Painless. We hugged it out and moved on, and I remember thinking that was just how breakups went.
I know better now.
If things end between Seth and me, there won't be anything amicable about it.
It won't be a clean break or a mutual decision or a hug goodbye.
It'll be catastrophic. Think Moulin Rouge.
Think Ewan McGregor on his knees in the rain, sobbing for Satine.
Except I'm the one doing the sobbing, and there's nothing tragically romantic about it. It's just loss. Plain, ugly and mine.
“Please say yes,” he whispers, leaning closer, his lips brushing against my temple. “I miss you. I hate this sneaking around.”
I hate it too.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Because I really, really want to see him and we really need to have a more honest talk.
His grin is pure satisfaction, lighting up his whole face. “Pack a bag this time. There’s no sneaking out.”
A shiver runs through me at that. When I turn to grip the door to leave, he smacks my ass, hard enough to make me gasp.
“These fucking yoga pants,” he groans, his tone dripping with frustration and lust. “You have no idea how distracting they are. I can see every jiggle of that round ass when you walk past me. And I’m not being discreet about staring anymore. Penn’s noticed. Probably the other guys too.”
That has me stopping with my hand on the door. “Would any of them say anything?”
He shakes his head. “No. They wouldn’t. But they all tell me that I’m playing with fire.”
I turn to face him, my fingers running up his strong biceps, across his chest and threading around his neck.
I like the fact that I can do that. That I have the right to touch him.
Even if it’s in private where no one else can see.
I wonder if someday I’ll be able to do it in public. I wonder if he’ll want that too.
Having all of Seth's attention is something to behold. It feels like standing in direct sunlight, warm and total, and I'm jealous of anyone who's ever had it before me. I wet my lips.
“Does that worry you?”
He shakes his head. “No. Saturday. At the game,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Will you wear my jersey?”
“Seth… You know I’ll be working,” I remind him gently. “I can’t wear a jersey while I’m on the clock. I have to wear the Mayhem gear.”
“My jersey is Mayhem gear.”
I laugh because the look on his face is adorably boyish.
“What if my dad sees?” The weight of those words hangs heavy between us because though I don’t have a relationship with my father, I have to be mindful of Seth’s career. One that he doesn’t seem to care about as much anymore.