Chapter 13 - Brianna
Seth drains the rest of his water, and I can’t stop watching the movement of his throat as he swallows.
The sharp bob of his Adam’s apple. The flex of his jaw.
The way the muscles in his neck shift beneath sun-bronzed skin.
It’s ridiculous that something so simple can make my stomach flip the way it does.
When he finishes, he drags the back of his hand across his mouth, the motion slow and almost weary, like the weight of the day is finally starting to catch up with him.
“Where’s Sawyer?” His voice is rough and when his hazel eyes finally meet mine, I can see just how exhausted he is.
“Showering.”
“Okay.”
His attention moves back to Levi.
“Did that suspension push you down here like a rat being flushed out?” Seth’s tone is laced with barely concealed irritation.
Levi snorts, completely unfazed by his brother. “Nah. I’m here to see Boone and Rosie and the new baby. I’m also here to see my niece.”
Seth presses the glass back to his lips, his jaw tight. The silence and tension stretch between them, thick enough to cut, and I get the feeling there’s a lot more to unpack between these two than I’m privy to.
“Okay, well…” I move towards the door cautiously. “I’m gonna head out then.”
Seth sets the glass down hard on the marble. 'Okay,' Seth says, at the same moment Levi says, 'Stay.’ Seth immediately scowls at his brother before looking at me.
“You ordered the pizza, and I need to pay you.”
Oh. Not stay because he wants me to. Stay because he needs to pay me for the week.
“I can get the money from you later this week,” I offer, trying to keep my voice light.
But Seth shakes his head, already stomping back to his bag.
He yanks out a checkbook, scribbling something down with quick, angry strokes before ripping the check free and shoving it toward me.
When I glance down, my eyes widen. It’s at least two hundred dollars more than the amount that we agreed on.
Definitely more than the cost of the pizza.
“Seth,” I hesitate, shaking my head as I meet his gaze. “You don’t have to—”
He cuts me off with a sigh, dragging a hand through his messy hair before tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Payment for having to deal with my brother. Besides, it’s not like you need the money anyway.”
And just like that, every bit of warmth inside me vanishes.
The second people find out who my father is, they look at me differently.
Like I must’ve grown up spoiled and cushioned by his money.
Like every door in my life magically opened for me without effort.
They don’t know he was barely around. That he still isn’t unless you count helping me land this job.
And yes, I’m grateful for that, but it’s not like I’m swimming in money as a first-year PT working under therapists with years more experience than me.
I can feel Seth’s frustration radiating off him, see it carved into the tight line of his jaw, and somehow that makes it worse.
Because he knows about my mom’s medical bills.
He knows I don’t have a relationship with my father.
I’ve told him that more than once. And somehow, he still thinks I’m living off a fortune that’s never actually been mine.
I swallow hard and bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep everything down where it belongs.
The anger. The embarrassment. The sting behind my eyes.
I hate when people assume my father’s wealth automatically belongs to me too.
Like his success erased every hard thing I’ve ever gone through.
Like my life has been easy just because his bank account is full.
It hasn’t. Yes, I’m doing this for Sawyer.
But I’m also doing it for myself because I need the extra money.
Because I’m trying to build something that belongs to me and not my father.
The Mayhem is a steppingstone. Not the finish line.
I won’t be with them forever. The illogical part of me wants to rip the check in half and tell Seth I worked the past two days for free.
But the logical part—the part that knows rent is due soon and Natasha’s going to ask, tells me to swallow my pride and be grateful.
So instead, I take a slow, deep breath and focus on something else.
Gratitude. Gratitude for my job. For Sawyer and the time that I’ve had to spend with her. For the fact that we have food, a roof over our heads, and a community that is starting to feel like family.
I might have a dead mom and a dad who’s basically a ghost in my life—one who forced me into working for the team he owns but still hasn’t made the time to talk to me—but I have people who do show up.
Natasha. My neighbors. Alessia. Rhiannon. Eden. And Rosie.
I’m living in a beautiful, safe, small town, close to New York City. I’m doing meaningful work, helping players heal. I’m spending my free time with a twelve-year-old girl who has magic in her eyes and whimsy in her spirit. The sun’s shining. The weather’s perfect. And—
“What’s she doing?” Levi’s loud whisper cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.
I blink, realizing both Tremblay brothers are staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.
Oops.
I totally zoned out. Got caught up in my head again.
Seth’s expression is unreadable, but his eyes are lingering on me a beat too long, like he knows what I was doing.
As if he understands I was stuck in my head, romanticizing the moment again.
I blow out a breath, swallowing the lump in my throat as I fold up the check and tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans.
"Thanks. I'm going to move the laundry to the dryer and say goodbye to Sawyer, then I'll head out."
I duck out of the kitchen before he can respond. The laundry room is small and tucked off the hallway on the first floor of Seth’s home. It’s just enough space for the machines, a narrow shelf of detergent, and about six inches of breathing room.
I find Sawyer's volleyball practice gear in the wash, transfer everything to the dryer, and press start.
The machine shudders to life beneath my hands, a low, steady vibration that fills the tight space.
I turn to leave but the door opens inward, and Seth fills it.
He doesn't say anything. He just steps inside and pulls the door shut behind him quietly like he's made a decision he hasn't fully caught up to yet.
The room gets very small, very fast. I back up until the dryer meets my spine, warm and humming against my lower back.
My throat goes dry. "Hi." I search his face but can’t find anything. "What's—what's going on?"
He doesn't answer right away. His eyes move over me slowly, and there's something in them I haven't seen from him before. It’s not the careful neutrality that he keeps dialed up around me, not the emotional distance he’s so good at. There’s something raw.
His gaze drops to my chest, watching it rise and fall too quickly, then back up to my face, then lower again to my throat, and that's when I realize I've wrapped my own hand around my throat without meaning to.
Some unconscious instinct. His jaw tightens when he notices it, and I watch something shift in his eyes.
Darken. His pupils blow wide, and I know he's thinking the same thing I am.
About his fingers there a year ago. About the way he'd praised me while he did it.
The dryer hums between my shoulder blades. I don’t lower my hand.
"Did my brother hit on you?" he asks.
The question comes out low.
"No," I say immediately. "We barely spoke."
He holds my gaze, reading me, and I let him look because I have nothing to hide on that front. Whatever tension was coiled in his shoulders eases a fraction. He nods once like he believes me.
"Sorry." His voice drops. "For how I was acting to you in there. Levi showing up… it's complicated. We have a past."
"You don't have to explain."
"I know." He looks at me like that almost makes it worse.
The silence between us isn't empty. It's filled with his strong scent and words that we’ve been holding back saying to each other for weeks. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Then tries again, and whatever he was going to say dissolves, because he takes one step forward and then another and then his palms come down flat on either side of me against the dryer, and the world narrows down to just this. Just him. His arms bracketing me, his chest close enough that I could close the distance between us easily. He's so tall. I have to tip my chin up to hold his gaze and when I do, the look on his face makes my heart lurch sideways. His pupils are dilated, and I know now he’s thinking about what we’ve done together.
I’m thinking about it too.
His eyes drop to my mouth. Stay there. My fingers curl against the dryer at my sides wondering if he’s going to kiss me with his daughter and brother just outside the doors.
His jaw clenches hard. A muscle ticks. I watch him fight it, and for a moment I think he's going to lose. I wouldn’t stop him if he did.
"Fuck."
The word comes out like something tearing.
He pushes off the dryer and steps back, and the cold air that rushes in where he was feels offensive.
He yanks his hat off, drags a hand through his hair then shoves it back on and turns away from me.
All I can see is the rigid line of his back, the tension in his shoulders that hasn't gone anywhere, the way his hands stay fisted at his sides like he doesn't trust them not to touch me.
When he speaks, it's entirely to the wall. "It's hard to be around you, Bri."
Then he's gone. Door swinging softly shut behind him, like he didn't just detonate something in a six-by-eight laundry room and walk away from the wreckage.
I stand there with the dryer humming against my spine and my heart completely outpacing my ability to think. When I finally get my breathing under control, I decide not to tell Levi, Seth or Sawyer goodbye. Thankfully, they’re in the kitchen and don’t notice me.
I race out of Seth’s home and down the street to Natasha’s house without another word.