12. Brynlee
Ishould have known my mother wouldn’t wait for me to come to her. It’s been nearly two weeks, and I’ve ignored more summonses than I can count. And maybe that’s not fair. It makes her sound like an evil queen ruling over her court with an iron fist.
That’s not her.
First of all, she’d never be caught dead with iron.
It’s platinum all the way for Scarlet Kingston-St. James.
That thought makes me smile enough to walk into my office with Winnie by my side. I ignore the fact that she’s sitting behind my desk with her legs crossed and her red-soled heel tapping against the tile floor.
“Good morning, Brynlee.” She’s doing a fabulous job of hiding the annoyance I know she’s feeling.
“Morning, Mom,” I answer as I walk around my desk and hang up my bag, then unbuckle Winnie’s collar and add a new chew toy to her bed in the corner of my office.
“What is that?” she asks, staring at Winnie.
I look down at my brand-new baby and smile. “Mother, meet Winston Churchill. Winnie, meet Grandma.”
“Bite your damn tongue, Brynlee. I’m not a grandma. We need to come up with a much better name.” She reaches her hand down and runs her palm over Winnie’s soft fur, then shakes her head. “Winston Churchill?”
I bend over and pour a bottle of water in her bowl and laugh at the way she’s curled up next to Mom’s silk pantsuit, and my God, she’s definitely leaving hair everywhere. “Yes, Winston Churchill. I’m calling her Winnie for short. She kinda looks like him, don’t you think?”
Mom laughs until Winnie starts chewing her purse. “Your aunt and the dogs. I swear. You’d think she was an animal lover when in reality, it’s only bulldogs.”
“I know you didn’t come here to talk to me about Winnie, Mom. And I need to boot up my computer so I can start my day.”
“Well, I need to talk to my daughter. So it seems if you do what I want, then I’ll be able to get up so you can do what you want. Win-win.” Her perfectly painted red lips stretch into a triumphant smile, and I have about half a second to decide whether I feel like dealing with the fallout of leaving the Revolution to work for Crucible.
But as it turns out, luck is on my side.
Nixon Sinclair knocks on my open door, then looks between Mom, Winnie, and me. “Hey, Brynn. Do you have time for me?”
Saved by the Sinclair.
“Come on in, Nix. I’ve got you on my schedule.” I look over at my mother without saying a word.
“Hey, Mrs. St. James,” Nixon says like a twelve-year-old boy who probably thought my mom was hot instead of a grown man who was just drafted to the best damn team in the National Hockey League. Then he moves into the room and grabs a treat from the glass jar that sits on my desk and squats down in front of my dog to get her love.
“Good morning, Nixon.” Mom rises from the desk and picks up her Birkin bag. “You can’t keep shutting me out, Brynlee,” she warns warmly. Probably more warmly than I deserve, but she’s in the wrong here, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.
I shut the door behind my mom and turn to Nix, who’s currently on the floor with Winnie in his lap. “Come on, Nix. Hop up on the table and let me grab the massage gun.”
Winnie licks his face before he moves her back to her bed and takes off his shirt. “You doing okay, Brynn? I was surprised to hear you were leaving the Revolution.”
I grab the gun and run it over Nixon’s lower back as the knot in my stomach grows. It always does when I think about leaving. “It was time. But you know this team is my first love and always will be.”
Nix groans as the gun goes over a particularly sensitive area.
“One day, some lucky fucker is going to bump the team down to second place, Brynn. But he’s going to have to go through all of us first.”
“If you weren’t my best friends’ little brother, I’d think you were hitting on me, Nixon Sinclair,” I tease, knowing that’s not what he’s doing but wanting to break the serious turn this conversation just took. Especially because the man who immediately comes to mind is Nixon’s new coach.
“Nah. Just looking out for one of our own.”
“Well that goes both ways. I hope the woman lucky enough to catch your eye is worthy of such a great guy. You’re one in a million, Nix.”
I shake my head and loosen him up before we start the rest of his session.
Hopefully, the guys won’t be too pissed when and if they find out about Deacon.
Jesus. How many secrets can I continue to keep?