19. Brynn
brYNN
I told myself three things on the drive over.
One: the green dress was just a dress. Two: this was just lunch. Three: that kiss meant nothing.
None of those things were holding up particularly well by the time I pulled into the Caldwell Arena parking lot and sat in my car for two minutes longer than I needed to.
The Texas Roadhouse bag was on the passenger seat.
I had driven twenty minutes out of my way to get it, which was either dedication to the bit or evidence that I had completely lost the plot.
Dani had texted me three times since we hung up.
The last one just said green dress better be on your body right now.
I had sent back a photo of my reflection in the bathroom mirror and she had responded with seventeen fire emojis and a voice note I was saving for later because I knew if I listened to it in the parking lot I would either laugh too hard or lose my nerve entirely.
I picked up the bag. Got out of the car.
The arena was busier than a Monday. Practice had wrapped and the guys were still filtering through, some heading to the weight room, some toward the exit with gear bags over their shoulders. Jett spotted me from halfway down the hall and immediately made a production of it.
“Bry! You bring enough for the whole team?”
I held the bag out of reach as he made a grab for it. “Touch this and I will personally ensure that Moose gets the last of the loaded fries.”
He clutched his chest like I’d wounded him. “That’s cold.”
“Move, Jett.”
He moved, grinning, and I kept walking.
The hallway felt longer than usual. That was a thing that happened when you were trying to act normal, every step took longer, every familiar thing looked slightly different, like the building knew something was different and was taking its time letting you get where you were going.
Just lunch. That’s all this is.
I had said that to myself in the mirror this morning holding the green dress, and I had almost believed it.
I had said it again in the car and believed it slightly less.
I was saying it now and I was pretty sure I had completely stopped believing it somewhere around the time when his lips touched mine.
The door to his office was open.
I could hear him inside, not talking, just moving, the sound of drawers and papers.
I stopped outside for exactly one second.
Just one. Enough to take a breath and remind myself that I was twenty-six years old and I had talked to a lot of men and this was just lunch and the green dress was just a shirt.
The shirt that made my eyes do a thing, apparently.
I thought about what Dani said about forehead kisses. About what they meant. About which category of man did which.
I thought about what Mom said. I see you, princess. I always have.
I thought about the way he had gripped my chin and said I’m not going to have lunch with your mother like it was the most obvious thing in the world and looked at me like he was still deciding what he was going to do about the rest of it.
I thought about his lips against my mouth and how I wanted nothing more but to kiss him deeper.
Jesus, Brynn.
I thought about the book I hadn’t written and the master’s program I hadn’t finished and the storage unit in Portland I was still paying sixty dollars a month for. I thought about fourteen months of temporary and the way I had built my whole life here around making sure everyone else was okay.
And then I thought about the way he’d said I want to do this right like it cost him something to wait. Like I was worth the cost.
I had been putting myself last for so long I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be someone’s first.
Stop it.
I straightened up. Adjusted the bag. Pushed my glasses up my nose.
This was a lunch. In a hockey arena. With my mother’s head coach. And I was here to gather information.
Sure I was.
Then I walked in and started setting up the food on his desk before he could see me hesitate.