5. Deacon
“Ithought your new position was being kept quiet until you officially signed your new contract this week.”
I’m suddenly glad to be having this conversation via Bluetooth instead of in person, because at least this way I can’t get shit for the look on my face as I navigate the sweltering streets of Kroydon Hills, listening to my ex-wife—who happens to be one of my best friends—manage to nag me as if she were my current wife. But instead of showing her any of that, I just nod in agreement.
“Yeah, so did I. I’m sure the Kingston’s PR team already has someone on it. Just ignore that trash, Isla. It’s not news. It’s gossip.” Some shithead kid slams on the horn of his Tesla that Mommy and Daddy probably bought him as I stop at the yellow light instead of running it, and I flip him the fuck off, already done with today. “I don’t know why you read those things in the first place. They’re called gossip rags for a reason.” After a moment, the light turns green, and I turn into the parking lot of the Kroydon Hills Plaza, wishing I hadn’t had to leave Isla, her husband, Shaun, and our daughter, Kennedy, at the beach for a few more days. “Seriously, why are you even following the Kroydon Kronicles anyway?”
“I don’t follow them,” she clucks, her words dripping with annoyance. “I have notifications set up for your name, and I added the Revolution after your meeting last week. Someone has to look out for you, Deacon. You’re not very good at doing it yourself.” Her voice holds a condescending tone, like I just asked the most ridiculous question Isla’s ever heard. Her tolerance for having to explain herself has never been one of her better qualities. At least, not with anyone who isn’t our daughter. Her husband and I have had a few beers and laughed over her lack of patience more than once at her expense.
The four of us don’t have what most would consider a stereotypical blended-family relationship.
When she and I got divorced, our relationship actually got better, not worse. Which was a good thing. If we’d continued down the path we’d been on for much longer, things would have gotten ugly. We somehow managed to end our marriage as friends who are able to put Kennedy first.
The late afternoon sun bakes against the truck’s windshield as I choose my next words carefully. “Listen... News is going to spread. There’s nothing we can do about that. If anyone reaches out to you, you know the drill.”
“I know. No comment.” It’s been the same since I got hurt my first and only year in the pros. We got really good at “no comment” back then.
I silently nod. “None of it matters. The deal is happening. The organization included a house in my contract. Maybe you could help Kennedy pick out a few things for her new room this week.”
Kennedy isn’t a big fan of change. It makes her anxious. I’m hoping that being closer to Isla and Shaun will make things easier than they’ve been since they moved down to Philadelphia from Boston. I haven’t gotten nearly enough time with Kennedy this past year, and I can’t even pretend that spending more time with my daughter isn’t the best part of this new job opportunity.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about that, Deacon...” Isla trails off, and my body tightens, anticipating the hit coming my way, which years of knowing this woman has trained me to expect from that tone of voice.
I’ve been waiting for it since I told Shaun and her I wanted more time with Kennedy, now that I’ll be closer.
Shaun is a VP at a Fortune 100 tech company outside of Philadelphia. Not exactly an easy drive for weekend visitation when I was coaching in Boston. Isla and I have spent Kennedy’s life with a solid custody agreement in place, but it was one that didn’t give me as much time with my daughter as I wanted. However, it was the best thing for her.
Isla was unusually quiet when I broke what I thought was exciting news about my new job and the move to Philly that came with it this weekend.
Isla is never quiet.
I should have been on high alert.
She stays quiet for another few moments before she blows out a heavy breath. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t mention this when you were here, but in my defense, Shaun just got the final word after you’d already left.”
“Final word on what?” I ask, cracking my neck left and right as the tension tightens my muscles.
“Shaun is being relocated,” she sighs, and I freeze.
“Where?” I ask, not waiting for an answer before pushing harder. “Where is the transfer to, Isla?” An angry heat works its way down my body as my fist balls against the steering wheel.
“Japan,” she answers, knowing the blow she’s dealing.
“What the hell, Isla!” I yell loud enough inside my truck that the elderly couple who just walked into the parking lot stop and stare at me, probably checking to see if I’m about to murder someone.
“That’s not just a transfer. That’s a whole other fucking continent. You can’t even take our daughter out of the country without my written consent. You sure as fuck can’t just move her across the goddamned world and think I’m going to let you.”
“You’re upset?—”
“You’re fucking right, I’m upset,”I yell before pressing down against my temples. “Half the reason I just took this job with the Revolution was to be closer to Kennedy, and now you’re trying to take her away from me. I might not enforce it, Isla, but we have a fifty/fifty custody agreement. Don’t forget it.”
“Hey, you need to calm down and not threaten me, Deacon. I’m not the enemy here.”
“Oh, I’m as calm as I’m getting, Isla. And if you’re trying to take my daughter from me, that makes you my enemy.” I stare at her name displayed on the Bluetooth screen and grind my teeth so hard I should be glad they don’t crack.
This isn’t the life I want for Kennedy.
“Our daughter,” Isla corrects me. “And we’ll figure this out. Together. Like we always do.”
“If you try to take her out of this country, I will fight you with everything I have,” I warn as calmly as I can.
“We’ll talk more when we get home next weekend, Deacon. I’ll send more pics. Go get some sleep and let me know how your meeting with the Kingstons goes tomorrow.” She says the words like everything is fine, and she didn’t just toss a grenade in my lap as she steps back to have a better view of its destruction.
“This. Isn’t. Settled,” I tell her before ending the call.
I’ve had to fight for every single thing in my life, and my ex-wife is in for a world of pain if she thinks I’m going to roll over without fighting for my daughter.
Brynlee
My phone rings as I finish blow-drying my hair, fresh from the shower. I envy women who can wash their hair and go. If I let my hair air-dry, I’d look like a hot mess. My curls aren’t the tight ringlets they were when I was younger, but those suckers are still making my life harder than it needs to be.
I flip my head over and run my fingers through the thick hair once before popping back up and looking at the phone with hesitation when I see it’s my mother... again. This is the fourth time she’s called today, and if I don’t give in and answer her, she’s just as likely to show up at my front door, calling my bluff.
Don’t ever play poker with my mother. She’ll call your bluff every time.
I slide my finger across the screen and hit the speaker option, then wait... because I can. Bratty, yes. But also effective.
“Brynlee St. James,” her voice calls out to me. “I’ve been calling you all day.”
Like there’s any possible way I missed that.
“I’ve been busy, Mom.” I grab tinted moisturizer and look at my reflection in the mirror, gently touching the dark circles under my eyes before I shake my head, exhausted. Fatigue sucks on a good day, and today may have started good, but damn, did it go downhill quickly. “I was going to call you back.”
“Would that have been before your next birthday?” she asks with a sarcastic lilt to her frustrated voice.
“My birthday is four months away, Mom.”
“Exactly,” she counters. “I’d hoped to see you today. Killian came for dinner and said you were moving. What’s he talking about?”
My little brother might be the prodigal son MMA fighter like our father, but I can and will kick his sorry ass the next time I see him.
Fuck this.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I draw in what feels like the final breath of strength I have left in my entire body. “I decided to trade condos with Maddox and Callen. I didn’t need all that space, and the guys wanted the extra room to spread out. We spent most of today moving things around.”
“Oh,” she answers, and I think I have may have shocked my mother speechless for the first time in my life. “Well... I suppose that makes sense. Killian mentioned Maddox said there’s extra room if he’s still thinking about moving out. I hope you made them do all the heavy lifting. You don’t need to be doing that, Brynn.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” Irritation clings to the thick air surrounding me. “If you already knew what happened, why did you ask?”
An alert pops up on my phone with a pinging notification. Apparently, the Kroydon Kronicles has gotten hold of the Revolution’s deal with Deacon Kane. Not that I’m surprised. They seem to get everything before anyone else in this damn town, and more often than not, my friends and I seem to be at the center of their attention.
I’ve had alerts set for mention of the Revolution or Kings teams in their columns for the past two years. I may also have my name and my friends’ names all set for alerts too. I like to be prepared.
I wonder, briefly, if Deacon’s seen this.
If he even knows about the Kroydon Kronicles.
If he’s as tired as I am.
If his offer still stands.
My mind wanders to this morning. To the excitement that danced over my skin and tugged at something deeper... Room 210... That’s what he said earlier.
“Brynlee... are you listening to me?” my mother asks, letting her annoyance at being ignored sneak blatantly back in.
I’m about to answer when a quiet knock at the door makes me wonder if I’m hearing things. Until it’s repeated again. That’s definitely a knock.
“I’ve got to go, Mom. Someone’s at the door.”
“Brynlee... you’re going to have to talk to me.”
I pick the phone up, wishing I could go back to the sunrise from this morning. Back to the beach... back to the peace.
“I know, Mom. But I meant what I said earlier. Uncle Max will have my resignation on his desk first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll stop by this week.”
“Brynlee—”
“Gotta go, Mom. Bye.” I disconnect the call and walk into my bedroom in my boy-cut panties and dark purple racerback tank top, then slide into a pair of jeans before walking down the hall to answer the door. A quick glance through the peephole probably should shock me, but it doesn’t.
I swing the heavy door open and smile coyly at the tall, dark, and handsome hockey player standing before me. He’s not the one I’d like to be looking at though. “Ares Wilder. What are you doing here?”
It’s rhetorical.
I saw the way he’s been looking at Grace this weekend.
I know that look.
He opens his mouth to answer, but I raise my hand, stopping him before he can speak. “No. Wait. Don’t answer that.” I step aside and let him in. “Let me go get Grace.”
“Brynn...” he starts, but I shake my head.
“Nope. Stop. I don’t want to know. This way I don’t have to lie later.” I take a few steps back. “You stay here.”
He nods but follows my order the same way he would if he was coming to see me at work. Ares is a good guy. A good man, really. He just gets a bad rap from hanging out with the wrong people. He lets people assume the worst and never corrects them. But I see him, even if very few others have taken the time to look past the party boy headlines.
“For what it’s worth, you’d be good for her.”
Ares’s ever-present grin slides into place. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Doc.”
It’s my turn to smile. “Don’t hurt my friend, god of war,” I warn before turning down the hall.
Gracie’s door is cracked open, and I knock once, then pop my head in. “Hey. I’m heading out.”
She’s lying on her bed in a white robe, her skin pink from the shower, looking as drained as I feel, but she manages to push herself up when she sees me. “You look pretty. Going somewhere fun?”
I walk over and tug her hair out of the messy bun on top of her head and fluff it around her shoulders.
“What the hell?” Grace laughs as she smacks my hands away.
I quirk a brow and purse my lips to hold back my laugh. “Don’t ask me where I’m going, and I won’t ask you why Ares is standing in our new living room,” I offer her as a truce instead.
“What?” She pops up to her feet, straightening her robe and giving me her complete attention now with that new small nugget of information. Grace’s eyes grow wide before settling into their own deviousness. “Wait... so you’re going to see a man?” Gracie may be the quiet twin, but she’s certainly not a stupid twin. Neither she nor Everly could ever be called that.
The thing is, I’m not ready to talk just yet.
Instead, I shake my head and place my pointer finger in front of my lips. “See you bright and early tomorrow for your evaluation, good twin.”
I walk away, smiling.
If all goes well tonight, maybe it won’t exactly be bright and early...