3. Brynlee
Classy women don’t have one-night stands.
That was an audition.
Either you made the cut or you didn’t.
—Brynlee’s Secret Thoughts
The faintest hint of sun barely begins to peek out beyond the horizon as Deacon and I lie on the cool sand, resting on bent elbows against the dunes. Hours have passed while we caught each other up on the past decade, although caught up feels wrong. Teenage me never really knew Deacon Kane. She may have fantasized about him from afar, a time or ten, but she never really got the chance to know the boy who became this man.
In fact, I’m fairly certain teenage me would lose her actual shit if she could see me now.
Back then, I fantasized about what it would be like to spend a night with Deacon.
I looked forward to the few weeks a year we’d spend on Block Island because I knew I could indulge in a few weeks away from Kroydon Hills and all the prying eyes that were interested in our lives just because of who our parents are. But I also got to spend a few weeks imagining myself flirting with the boy Deacon used to be. Imagining being the key word. I didn’t even know how to flirt back then. It’s hard to learn how to act with teenage boys when they only ever cared about the fact that my dad was Cade St. James, former MMA champion. Wait... that’s not completely true. Some of them thought the fact that my mom owns the Philadelphia Kings was cool too. Those guys usually wanted to meet my friends though, because their dad was the Kings quarterback.
And now I sound like a poor little rich girl. Even to myself.
Deacon was different. He never had stars in his eyes over my parents.
Unfortunately, he never had stars in his eyes for me either.
He was too old and too cool for me back then, so none of it made much of a difference.
Now, here we are, talking about all the ways our twenties have kicked our collective asses. Not that I’ve shared all the ways, but I’ve shared a whole lot more than I thought I would. And that single thought is like a strike to the chest, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I try to focus on the here and now.
On the cool sand and the hot man.
On the serenity around me.
Not on the uncertain future and what it holds for me.
I lift my eyes to the heavens and take it all in. “I don’t remember the last time I watched the sun rise.”
“Me either. Now all-nighters only happen if Kennedy is sick. This kind of peace is few and far between,” he muses.
Peace... I desperately long to remember what that’s like.
The soft, warm, water-colored rays reflect off the dark water beneath them, gently illuminating the ocean, and slowly stretch over the beach. I lower my elbows and lie back on the sand as I soak in the beauty. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It is,” he answers. But when I glance his way, he’s looking at me, not the ocean. And what could be a cheesy line coming from someone else spreads goosebumps over my skin coming from Deacon.
I roll to my side and face this man I haven’t seen in nearly a decade, and yet feel inexplicably comfortable with, and try to smother another yawn as it creeps up on me, again.
I know our night is coming to an end.
Figuratively and literally.
“I should probably get back to the house soon.” I force the words out, wishing I could stop time.
“Are you down here all week?” Deacon asks as he mirrors my body.
Close enough to feel his warmth but not close enough to feel him.
It seems to have been a theme tonight.
Flirting but not acting.
Close but not quite close enough.
With a sudden strong wave of disappointment draining me, I slowly shake my head. “No. I’m heading back to Kroydon Hills later this morning. I’ve got a few appointments on the schedule tomorrow with some of the guys. Should I send you a report, Coach?” The teasing rolls off my tongue, and Deacon’s lips curl into a crooked, sexy grin.
“Not sure if my email is set up yet, St. James.” He rises slowly and brushes the sand from well-worn jeans, then bends his knees and offers me his hands.
“Guess it’s time to go, huh?” I rest my hands in his big palms and let him pull me to my feet before I look up into his eyes. “Are you going to be down here for long...? Do you have to do the whole find a place to live thing? I mean, now that you’re relocating from Boston to Philly. Where are you staying? When are you moving?”
Deacon ignores my rapid-fire questions and runs both big hands over my head before he wraps one around the back of my neck and drags a rough thumb along my jaw. My body immediately slows and takes notice. “Anyone ever told you, you talk too much?”
I scrunch my face and purse my lips, like I have to think about my answer.
I don’t.
I’ve been told I talk too much for years.
When I shrug in response, he drops his hand and takes a step back.
Damn it. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so disappointed at the loss of someone’s hands on my body, and it wasn’t even like that.
“I’ve got a meeting with the Kings again tomorrow, so I’m heading back today too.”
And the other shoe dropped.
“The Kings...” I cock my head and watch him for any reaction. “You mean my mother?” I half tease, half taunt because I’m not sure how to feel about him meeting with my mother and uncle. It’s amazing how easy it was to forget who we were talking about.
He bends his knees until he’s at my eye level. “Hey... where’d you go there?”
“Just remembering you’re basically my boss,” I confess sheepishly and take a small step back.
“I’m not your boss yet.” Deacon closes the space between us, and for one single second, I think he might kiss me. He lifts his hand to my face but drops it before he touches me. “I’m in Room 210 at the Kroydon Hill Plaza. Have dinner with me tonight.”
His words wage war in my mind, but when I open my mouth to answer him, my own words get stuck in my throat.
“Don’t answer now.” He reaches his hand into my pocket and pulls out my phone, then unlocks it with my face before his fingers fly across the screen, and before I can over-analyze what just happened, he hands it back to me. “I should be home by seven tonight. You’ve got my number. You’ve got the hotel information. Use it, Brynn.”
I nod slowly and pocket my phone, then motion toward the house behind us. “That’s me.”
Deacon clenches his jaw and shoves his hand in his pocket. “Room 210, Brynn. You’ve got to eat.”
The gleam in his eye is intense as the sun casts a golden glow behind him.
“Room 210,” I whisper back before I force myself to turn around and head for my parents’ house.
I quietly let myself in and tip toe down the hall to the kitchen, expecting it to be empty. Looks like nothing is going to go my way today though. Because instead of finding an empty kitchen, Maddox is standing shirtless behind the island, twisting the cap off a bottle of water.
Fuck me.
He grins and takes a pull of water. “Looks like little red didn’t sleep in her bed.”
“Pretty sure you’re mixing up fairytales, Madman.” I maneuver around him and grab my own water from the fridge. “What are you doing up?”
“Going for a run,” he tells me, and his grin turns into a full-on ferocious smile. “And I may have needed to escort a guest out this morning. I swear to fuck, I don’t understand why women want to spend the night. Do you all really think we want to wake up next to you and watch you do the walk of shame? You won’t catch a man doing that. We get the fuck out before the sun comes up for a reason.”
“What is wrong with you?” I pull myself up to sit on the counter next to him. “Did Uncle Sam drop you as a baby?”
“Listen, she had fake lashes stuck to her cheeks like a goddamn caterpillar this morning. I almost tried to kill one before I realized what it was.” Maddox crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me, daring me to question him. Not like there’s any way in hell I’m going to. I learned a long time ago I don’t want to know what Maddox and Callen do behind closed doors.
Hell, I’m not so sure they haven’t shared women before.
And with that thought, my stomach sours.
Eww.
“Whatever, Madman. I’m going to bed.” I hop down to leave but stop cold when my phone vibrates.
Did Deacon take my number when he gave me his?
I pull it from my pocket and see two text notifications.
One is from Deacon. It looks like he did text himself from my phone.
Sneaky fucker.
The other is from my mom.
Mom
Good morning, Brynn. I need you to come by the house today.
“Awful early for a text, B.”
I glare at Maddox.
He’s not wrong.
After a minute wasted staring at my phone, I decide to call my mother. Scarlet Kingston-St. James doesn’t know how to sleep late. She never has, as she just demonstrated by texting at the crack of dawn... literally.
It barely rings before she answers, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch Maddox grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and pull up a stool. Like I said, such a fucker.
“Hey, sweetheart. I didn’t expect you to be awake so early on a Sunday.” I hear coffee beans grinding in the background before she must move out of the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”
“I was fine until I got your message, Mom. What’s going on, and why do I feel like I’m being summoned?”
Maddox pulls his pocketknife from his shorts and cuts a slice of his apple while I roll my eyes at my audience. One of these days, he’s going to slice his mouth open with the way he bites the damn thing right off the blade. And when that day comes, I’m going to laugh before I faint from the excessive amount of blood.
“Don’t be dramatic, Brynn. You’re not being summoned. I just want to discuss something with you.” Well she certainly brought my attention right back to her.
“Discuss what?” I question as my stomach sinks and I glare at my cousin.
No way was he right.
She wouldn’t do that to me.
“If I wanted to discuss it over the phone, I would have called you, Brynlee,” my mother chastises, like I’m a child.
“I have things to do today, Mom. I’m not even in Kroydon Hills. What’s going on?” I ask a little firmer this time.
Maddox coughs, and I glance his way quickly.
And suddenly it feels like the my world is shifting.
Holy. Hell.
He was right.
“It’s a business thing, honey. Just come over for lunch or dinner, and we’ll discuss it then.” My mother isn’t used to being told no.
In her defense, she’s almost always right, so it doesn’t have to happen often.
In my defense, it’s about to happen now.
“You’re not really going to try to make me switch from the Revolution to the Kings, are you, Mom?” My shaking voice betrays any confidence I was attempting to project. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you? You know I love my job. You know how hard I work. You wouldn’t go behind my back and pull rank... right?”
“Brynlee, I don’t have to pull rank. I’m the vice president of King Corp. I’m the GM of the Philadelphia Kings and part owner of the Philadelphia Revolution. I am the rank someone wants to pull. I want to discuss this with you in person. Come to the house.”
“Mom—”
“The Kings will be better for your health, Brynn. The season’s shorter, and there’s less travel. You know I’m right.”
I grip my phone as the anger coursing through my veins threatens to engulf me. “Are you kidding me?”
“Brynlee—”
“I’ll save you the hassle, Mom. Consider this my notice. My contract says I have to give you a month. Today is day one.”
I end the call and turn back to Maddox, who’s grinning like the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood. “Looks like it’s a good day for a move.”
I rip the apple out of his hand and throw it at his head. “Fuck you, Maddox.”
The son of a bitch ducks. “Better go shower, Brynn. Looks like you’ve got some news to break to Gracie.”
“You know you’re a dick, right?”
He shrugs. “A dick with a penthouse condo.”
Did I really just lose my job and my home in one day?