Chapter 9 – Seth #3
Isn’t that what she said she does? That’s what she’s doing right now, isn’t it?
Finding poetry in the way the droplets slide down the glass, in the rhythm of the water pelting the sidewalk.
Peace in the unpredictability of the gentle pings against the sill.
It’s something I can say with absolute confidence I have never in my entire life done before.
But I don’t interrupt her. I let her have it.
I’m in awe of her. I let her get lost in the moment because it lets me get lost in her.
The delicate curve of her cheekbones, the way her lips are parted slightly, her dark lashes casting shadows on her skin.
Her eyes are tired but still full of something bright, something alive.
She’s not wearing her glasses today, and for some reason, I wish she were.
Maybe because it would remind me of that night—the way they’d slid down her nose right after she lifted me into the air before I knew who she was, the way I’d wanted to tug them off right before I covered her lips in mine, my tongue sweeping and tasting hers.
How is it possible I didn’t recognize her?
How could I have forgotten the way that she kisses with her whole body and soul like she’s imprinting the moment on her very being?
Fuck me. I need to get it together. Because she makes me hard. So fucking hard. And that’s exactly why this can’t work.
Sawyer doesn’t need another temporary woman in her life.
Another person to get attached to only for them to leave when they decide they don’t want to be a stepmother or that dating a tortured hockey player is too much work.
Sawyer needs stability. She needs me focused on her, not getting caught up in the team owner’s daughter.
Not screwing around when my season opener is a week away.
I’m enough for her. Bri was a one-time thing. Romanticizing what we had is a terrible idea.
But then Bri sighs…
It’s a soft, wistful sound that makes my stomach tighten because it sounds a hell of a lot like the sigh she let out when I licked her pussy a year ago before she asked me what are you doing? And when she looks at me again, her eyes are full of something deeper and there’s a smile on her face.
“She reminds me a little of a younger me,” she says finally finishing her thought, her voice barely above a whisper.
“She’s just figuring things out and wants an audience to witness it all.
She’s beautiful, but beyond that… she’s introspective.
I loved listening to her talk today. Hearing her dreams. She’s such a unique soul. You’re doing a great job with her.”
That knocks the breath out of me. Because no one—not even my ex-wife, the woman who was there for months of Sawyer’s life—has ever spoken about my daughter with such gentleness and awareness.
If anything, I think my ex barely tolerated her.
Loved me, sure, but not the part of me that came with a child from my previous marriage.
She never connected with Sawyer on an emotional level and eventually Sawyer gave up trying.
“I…” I clear my throat, gripping the counter, because for some reason everything feels a little off-center now.
“She has your athleticism,” Brianna continues with a small smile, tilting her head like she doesn’t realize how much her words are affecting me right now. “Did you know she’s trying out for the libero position? The coach thinks she has potential and so do I.”
I shake my head. I didn’t know that. But I’m glad Bri told me.
“I saw her in action today. Defense is her strong suit. She doesn’t let anything get past her. She isn’t afraid to dive and make some wild saves. She gets that from you. Zero fear when a ball is flying directly at her face.”
A sharp, unexpected pride rushes through me, swelling in my chest. Because being a dad to a little girl was easy.
Back then, she wanted to hold my hand, sit on my lap, follow me everywhere.
But now she’s growing up, and I don’t always know how to reach her anymore.
To connect with the part of her that’s starting to crave independence but still wanting connection.
And yet, here’s Brianna. Seeing her. Understanding her in a way that I haven’t figured out how to after spending only a few hours with her. Finding ways that we’re connected even as she ages and pointing them out to me.
“Thank you,” I respond roughly.
She gives me a small, knowing smile, then reaches for the door.
I should let her go.
She was supposed to be Harley Quinn, but Bri is nothing like her.
“Wait.” I hold up a hand, not even recognizing my own voice.
She turns slowly, her green eyes searching mine in surprise.
“Give me a day,” I say, my voice rough. “Let me think about this a bit more. Talk to Sawyer in the morning. Would that be alright?”
Her lips press together, and I can tell she’s fighting back a smile. She’s eternally optimistic.
“No problem. Just shoot me a text with your decision. Sawyer has my number too. I hope that’s alright.”
I nod, “Sure.”
She smiles. “See ya, Seth.” And then I watch her go.
I lean against the doorframe and watch until she’s down the street and out of view.
I have no idea what I just did.