31. Colton
COLTON
“So. Bry,” Rhett said as I stared the men down, “how’s your mom getting along? She seems to be in good spirits today.”
That tore my attention to Rhett. Did he know about Victoria?
“She’s doing well,” Brynn said, “ready for the season to kick off.”
Moose snickered. “Aren’t we all? Took everything I had to walk away from that goal line this morning.”
“That goal line needs rest, too,” I finally said as the waitress came back with a round of water Brynn insisted the entire table have. “Otherwise, you’ll carve a fucking moat with your blades around that damned thing.”
Moose chuckled and clapped me on the back before Jett piped up. “You coming to the game, Bry?”
Brynn scoffed. “The hell kind of question is that? Of course, I’m coming to the game.”
Jett shrugged. “Just that you usually watch the season opener on the TV from home.”
That pulled my gaze back to Brynn. “You do?”
Her cheeks blushed a little bit before she looked over at me. “Dad loved season openers.”
I nodded slowly, already understanding. And yet, she was willing to come with me? What the hell had I done to earn someone so precious?
“Well,” Moose said as he leaned back in his chair and flashed that blinding smile of his, “it’ll be good to see you in the stands. You bunking with Miss Victoria in the V.I.P. booth?”
Rhett grinned. “Or, uh, you gonna rough it in the back like we do?”
I rolled my eyes. “The four of you wouldn’t know roughing it if it bit your damn nose off.”
Brynn and the guys laughed before they resumed their conversation, and my eyes volleyed between the five of them, taking it all in.
Was I happy about the four of them randomly walking into a restaurant twenty minutes outside of town?
Not particularly. I’d driven all the way out here just to make sure I didn’t run into any of them while we were eating.
And even though I wanted to jump down their throats for coming out here most likely to drink without getting caught, isn’t that exactly what I had done?
You have to do better by these boys.
Their laughter pulled me out of my head, and the way Brynn’s head fell back, exposing her softly-tanned neck like that, made something inside of me roar to life.
I shifted in my seat, not bothering to take in the aimless conversation around us as I watched her.
Studied her. Drank her in. I sipped my water and stabbed mindlessly as my chicken marsala; at the way her entire face lit up whenever Jett said something that made her laugh.
I watched the way her eyes crinkled with her smile as Rhett talked her through some sort of workout routine he chugged along with, or some other such nonsense.
I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to care about their shit.
But I liked that she did.
Watching it all unfold? It felt… surreal.
Like a dream. Like something I didn’t want to wake up from.
I felt locked in, like someone had shackled me to the ground of this city.
I’d felt that way ever since I breached the city limits two weeks ago to take this position just before the start of their season.
I’d felt that way the instant I laid eyes on Brynn.
And now? Sitting here at lunch with her and the team laughing and getting along?
It made me think.
It made me think about what she said about my drinking.
It made me think about what she said about my scandal, and the shit the news dredged up about me just to get some fucking primetime views.
During that time in my life where those fucking news cameras were shoved so far up my ass that they could’ve tested my gut health, the PHL did everything to try and get me to understand that I fucked up.
That I wasn’t actually part of the team, and that I couldn’t risk fucking up like this because I was more than the team.
Above them. Beyond them. And because of that, I wasn’t allowed the same graces the team would have gotten in moments like that.
But maybe, Brynn was right.
Maybe I was more part of this team than I’d been made to believe.
“I’m telling you, that’s what he did!” Jett exclaimed before he took a mouthful of noodles and slurped them up. “He marched right in there, ripped his coat off his damn shoulders, wrapped that shit around the man’s neck, and practically threw him across the locker room without so much as a word!”
Brynn’s eyes bulged as she looked over a Moose. “You did not.”
Moose shrugged. “Don’t talk about my mama.”
Rhett barked with laughter. “I’ll say. You’ll get your neck broken if you talk about his mama.”
“I didn’t break his neck, okay?” Moose asked.
“Nope,” Frank said with a beaming smile on his face, “just gave him a concussion.”
Even I gave a chuckle just as Moose shrugged. “Like I said, don’t talk about my mama, and we won’t have problems.”
“I hear that,” Brynn said as he reached her balled up fist out for a fist bump.
The plan had always been four years, prove the point, move on. That was still the plan.
Wasn’t it.
It reminded me of just how precarious my situation with Brynn was.
She was the owner’s daughter. The press would eat me alive for this, especially after the scandal before.
And yet, it felt so fucking good. She felt so fucking good.
Brynn. The curvy, delectable goddess that had dropped out of thin air and onto a silver platter, just for me.
I didn’t care that she originally attempted to hook me up with her mother.
I didn’t care that she fought her own demons on whether or not this was something we needed to be pursuing.
Being with her was better than my marriage.
Better than my divorce. Better than the bitterness.
Better than that useless fuck that blew up everything I’d spent two decades building.
Better than all of the top-shelf bourbon the desert heat of this city had to offer.
But until I went back to my life, I’d spend every second she allowed making sure she understood that. And maybe, just maybe, if I played my cards right, I’d convince her to come with me.
The plan made less sense the longer I sat here watching her laugh.