Chapter 8 - Brianna #2
I get that Seth is stressed about uprooting her life from the West Coast, but from where I’m sitting, Sawyer seems totally unfazed by the recent changes and is settling in perfectly. The only person stressed in this vehicle is me while I replay every single detail of that encounter with her dad.
“So, they’re thinking about making me the libero,” she announces proudly.
My eyes widen with appropriately tween dramatic enthusiasm. “That’s a big deal.”
She perks up. “You know what that is?”
“I played libero when I was a volleyball player.”
Her mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait… really?”
“Really.”
“Wow.” She whispers it like I just casually admitted to playing D1 volleyball. And just like that, I win a whole handful of cool points.
I pull into the school parking lot and park then reach over and grab the extra Gatorade I brought with me this morning before handing it to her. She takes it.
“You want me to stay and watch? Do the other parents stick around for practice?”
She shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Some do.” Which means she wants me to, but she’s too cool to ask.
“You know what? I’d love to stay. I miss playing. It’d be fun to get back into the sport, even just as a spectator.”
Her eyes light up, and I feel like I just won the freaking lottery.
This gig won’t be hard if I can just manage to avoid Seth.
She hops out of the car first, walking a little ahead of me like she’s totally fine with me being here but not too close, because that would be lame and make her feel like a baby.
Inside the building the rush of air-conditioning hits me like a sweet, refreshing slap.
I say goodbye to Sawyer then make my way up the bleachers, settling a few rows away from a small group of women chatting excitedly down below.
The coach blows her whistle, calling the girls into warmups, when one of the moms turns to me with a friendly smile.
“Hi! Want to come join us?”
I’ll never say no to new friends. Climbing down a few rows, I plop into an empty seat and extend my hand. “Hi! I’m Brianna King, Sawyer’s new nanny.”
“Oh!” One of the women exclaims. “We haven’t had a chance to meet Seth yet.” She smiles warmly beneath the brim of her baseball cap. “I’m Mae, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand.
The two other women, who look a little older—maybe in their forties—exchange polite smiles.
“This is Lucy and Heather,” Mae continues. “Our daughters all play on the team with Sawyer. It’s good you came today, most parents don’t stay for practice, but we can always use more hands helping with team events and travel for away games.”
I nod enthusiastically. “Count me in. Happy to help however you need.”
The coach blows the whistle, shifting the girls from warmups into a spiking drill.
The setter takes position, and the coach starts lobbing easy passes, letting each girl take a swing at a spike.
Most of the spikes go straight into the net, but a few manage to tip the ball over or bunt it across, earning cheers from their teammates.
The camaraderie seems strong. They look like they’re excited to be back together, and I just hope Sawyer finds her place among them as the new girl.
The coach has Sawyer step to the other side of the net to catch the spikes that make it over and I sit on the edge of my seat, watching her nervously. Lucy leans forward, pointing proudly.
“That’s my daughter—the setter. All-State at only twelve years old.”
I nod, watching the girl move. “She looks great.”
Lucy beams at the praise, and just like that I think I’ve made some new friends. I pull out my phone and take a few photos of Sawyer before sending them to Seth.
Brianna: Got your number from Natasha. Hope that was okay. Here’s Sawyer at practice today. She’s doing amazing.
The messages go from sent to read but he doesn’t reply. I try not to take that personally.
“So, are you living with the Tremblay’s?” Lucy asks, her head tilting with curiosity.
“No, I live a few doors down.”
“I bet that’s intimidating—nannying for a hockey star. We don’t get a lot of new faces from the team settling out here.”
“I’m a physical therapist for the Mayhem during the day so I’m around the players all the time.” I smile.
Mae’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow.” She turns fully to face me now, her interest officially piqued. “You’re surrounded by hot, hunky athletes daily?”
I grin. “It’s a job. And I’m working on their bodies, so I try not to think about that too much. But yeah, I’ve been around them my whole career. You become numb to their attraction,” I joke.
“I wouldn’t become numb to Seth’s, though,” Lucy whispers under her breath, fanning herself slightly.
I bite back a smile, because yeah, I get that.
Seth is hot. It’s not just his face—or the body, which is unfairly perfect—but it’s his energy on and off the ice.
The quiet, brooding intense goaltender. The way he walks into a room and all heads turn.
Yeah, he seems a bit… sad and grumpy. Maybe that’s from the divorce his teammate mentioned the night of our one-night stand, but I’ve seen a side of him that’s not.
The one that was whispering dirty things while licking my pussy.
The guy who kissed me again in the gym before he remembered me.
I shift my attention back to the girls and watch as Sawyer drops to her knees, making a great save.
The rest of practice flows easily. I keep my focus on Sawyer, watching how strong her overhand serves are for her age and noting a few things she could work on outside of practice if she ever asks for my advice.
I won’t push her, of course. She’s got good instincts, natural athletic ability, and I can tell she wants to be great.
That kind of drive is something you can’t teach. It’s in her blood.
The moms chat around me, mostly about their upcoming away game in Boston. I won’t be able to travel with them since the Mayhem has a home game, but they have coverage. I make a mental note to tell Seth so he knows Sawyer will be out of town.
When practice wraps up, I say goodbye to the moms, grateful to have made some new friends, and wait for Sawyer near the exit.
She’s beaming, and I love that she has this.
A sport that makes her light up, something to pour herself into.
After years of studying and working as a physical therapist, I know how important that is—not just for early muscle development and coordination, but for self-esteem.
Confidence built on the court doesn’t stay on the court.
It follows you into every aspect of your life.
“That was amazing,” I say as she reaches me, grabbing her bag and slinging it over my shoulder. She looks wiped.
Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “This team is way better than my team on the West Coast.”
“You looked right on par with their skill set. You’re a natural on defense, you must get that from your dad.”
Her eyes light up again and I hope she knows I really mean that.
She bites her lip, suddenly hesitant, and I can tell there’s something else on her mind.
As we reach the car, she slides into the passenger seat and buckles up, but she’s still quiet.
It isn’t until I back out of the parking lot that she finally turns to me, her voice smaller now.
“What if I don’t start for our first game?” she asks.
I glance at her before shrugging. “Then we’ll work together until you do. I’ve worked with lots of professional volleyball players on perfecting their form so that they’re at the top of their career.”
She blinks, surprised by my offer. “Really?”
I grin. “Really. We can start tomorrow if you want. I’m not sure what your dad’s schedule will be like, but I can check in with him.”
Because let’s be real, this was a trial run. There’s a strong chance Seth fires me the second he gets home tonight. Sawyer’s face lights up.
“I’d love that. Thank you, Brianna.”
And just like that, I know that even if her dad hates me, at least his daughter doesn’t.
I smile. “You can call me Bri. Okay, what’s next?”
“Um, usually my dad just takes me home and I shower.”
“Then what?”
“Sometimes we play a game together. Sometimes I just watch TV.”
I nod. “Okay, your dad doesn’t get home for three more hours so I’m making you dinner while you shower. Then we’ll play a game together until he’s home. Deal?”
She beams and whispers to herself, “Awesome.”
And for the first time today, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.