Chapter 23 – Seth
When I finally wake from my nap hours later, I feel disgusting and dehydrated.
My mouth’s dry, my body’s stiff, and the sun’s already dipping lower on the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow across my living room. I blink, trying to shake off the haze of sleep as I glance toward the sliding glass doors that open to my backyard. And that’s when I notice them.
Bri and Sawyer.
They’re outside in the backyard, a volleyball flying between them as Bri sets each pass perfectly, and Sawyer dives into the grass, digging the hit.
Every time she makes contact with the ball, Bri flashes her that bright, encouraging smile, and they both laugh and cheer together like they’re old friends.
Fuck me.
It hits me like a punch to the chest. Seeing Sawyer so damn happy—light and carefree after the mess of this weekend makes my heart ache in the best possible way. And at the same time, there’s something else twisting in my gut. Shame.
Because while I was passed out on the couch, Bri—who barely slept herself last night—came over, pulled on a pair of those sinful shorts that hug her ass like a second skin and a sports bra doing everything right for her curves, and showed up to spend time with my daughter.
Wait a minute.
My brain stutters. I rub my eyes. There's no fucking way.
Her hair is red.
Bright, strawberry red. Long waves of it catching the sunlight, glowing like a halo. I have to grip the edge of the couch to keep from going straight to her. It's the same shade it was the night we met a year ago, and I know she did it for me.
I don’t know how long I sit there watching them through the glass doors, but eventually, I decide it’s torture not hearing her voice and being near her.
I push up from the couch, dragging a hand through my messy hair.
I know I look a wreck. I’m still in the Mayhem warm-up shorts that I slept in last night and a wrinkled T-shirt with the team’s logo across my chest, but I don’t care.
She’s out there, and it feels like there’s a damn magnet in my chest, pulling me toward her.
I need to be near her. I need to tell her.
I move to the door, pushing it open with enough force that the sound draws both of their attention.
“Dad!” Sawyer’s eyes light up as she beams at me.
“Bri’s been helping me with my hits, and they’re getting so much better!
” She bounces on her toes, the energy coursing through her.
There are mud stains on her knees, and her sleeves are rolled up to her shoulders but she’s glowing with happiness.
“She also showed me a couple stretches I can do to loosen up my legs so I can hold the crouched position longer. I think once I build up stamina, coach will keep me in for longer.”
I smile at her without thinking twice. “That’s great, baby.”
My eyes find Bri and I'm pulled under all over again.
She's standing there with the volleyball tucked under one arm, the other draped casually over Sawyer's shoulder, face flushed from exertion and still so fucking beautiful it hurts.
She smiles at me, her hand going briefly to her new hair before dropping.
“Hey, Seth.”
“When did you get here?” I ask. I don’t hide the way my eyes run down her soft body.
She shrugs. “Just about an hour ago.”
An hour. Damn. Which means she probably came straight here after showering and didn’t get any sleep like I told her to.
“She’s doing great,” Bri adds, squeezing Sawyer’s shoulders gently before releasing her and walking to the other side of the yard, ready to set up another pass for her.
“Did you get any sleep?” I follow her, keeping my voice low.
She waves me off. “I’m fine. I slept some last night.”
We’re far enough away from Sawyer that she can’t hear us now. “Not enough.”
She turns to face Sawyer who’s currently lacing up her sneakers distracted and not paying attention.
“I’ll get more tonight.”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
Her lips part in surprise. I don’t back down. “We need to talk. Tonight.”
Her gaze searches mine until I watch her swallow and nod. “Okay. I made chicken carbonara and a chopped salad for dinner. If you’re hungry.”
My brain short-circuits because she went home, cooked, and still came back here to practice with my daughter—all while I was dead to the world on my couch. What the hell did I do to deserve this woman?
Nothing. That's what. I don't deserve someone who shows up like this without being asked. I deserve to be alone for the rest of my life, not someone thoughtful and kind and willing to pour herself into my kid and I without a second thought, without being paid, without being asked.
Guilt hits fast and hard. The old instinct to self-sabotage follows right behind it—pull back, walk away, let her go find someone worthy of her.
She deserves so much better than me.
She looks at me like she’s reading my mind.
“Seth. It wasn’t a big deal. I love cooking for the people I care about.”
And I'm going to pursue her anyway.
“I’m so hungry! Let’s take a break!” Sawyer pipes up before she darts into the house.
Bri smiles as she watches my daughter while I watch her. I memorize the curve of her smile, the shape of her lips, the way her red hair glows in the fading sunlight, the gentle way she connects with Sawyer. I want to say so much.
You didn't have to do any of this. You didn't have to play volleyball with her when I know you're exhausted. You didn't have to drive through the night to save her. You didn't have to cook for us after everything. You don't owe us a single thing—and yet here you are.
But I don't say it because Bri already knows she doesn't have to. She wants to. And that's what makes her extraordinary.
There's a question burning in my chest that I'm too afraid to ask out loud.
Why?
Because women in my life tend to want something when they get close to me—my career, the attention that comes with being a professional athlete, my money.
I've never once questioned that with Bri.
She genuinely just wants to be here. She wants to spend time with her and me.
And that's more than anyone has ever given me.
“Bri.”
Her smile softens like she knows what I’m thinking. There’s no possible way that she could.
"I'm going to head home."
"Absolutely not," I growl, the words coming out rougher than I mean them to. But I can't help it. The thought of her leaving before she even eats the food she cooked for us—of her being anywhere that isn't under my roof where I can reach her—there's not a chance in hell.
She doesn't look put off. She just smiles at me. Soft. Patient. Like she already knows what's swirling inside me even when I can't figure it out myself.
I step closer, glancing over my shoulder to check that Sawyer's out of sight. She'll know eventually. And when she does, I think she'll understand—because she looks at Bri like she's the light too.
My attention comes back to Bri. My hands move before I decide to let them, reaching for her hair, taking a lock of that soft, fiery red between my fingers and rolling it slowly—the same way I'd handle something I’m afraid to break.
Because that’s what’s happening here, right?
I’m afraid that by getting too close, I’ll break Bri.
She’s something I didn't know I was missing until she was standing in my space, and now I don't want to let go.
Even if wanting her this much makes me the worst kind of person.
I lower my voice. “Did you do this for me? Because of what I said in the car?”
“I’ve missed this color,” she says softly. We both know the truth. She did this for me.
“Hm…” I hum, my thumb brushing lightly over the silkiness of her hair. My lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. “You did it for me.”
“I made angel food cake for dessert.”
Angel food cake. My favorite.
I glance over my shoulder one last time, checking on Sawyer out of instinct, but she’s still in the kitchen, completely absorbed in making her plate. We have seconds—maybe a minute tops before she bursts through the door and asks what’s taking us so long. That’s all I need for now.
My hands move without thought, sliding up to cradle Bri’s face, my large palms framing her jaw as my thumbs brush over her soft skin. I tilt her chin, bringing her just a breath away from me. Every muscle in my body locks tight with effort not to kiss her just yet.
And damn it all to hell—why did I ever think we wouldn’t end up here just like this?
“Most days, I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit roughly. It’s not just about this. It’s about everything. Parenting. My career. The move. Definitely, Bri. The feelings I’ve been trying—and failing—to keep locked down.
Her eyes soften. I want her hands on me the way they were in the car, but she keeps them at her sides and just looks at me—like that's enough. Like she's waiting for me to catch up and make the first move tonight.
“You’re doing an amazing job,” she whispers, her voice full of conviction that I wish I could believe. “I’m not a parent, but I think those doubts that you’re feeling are all very normal.”
“I’m not good at this.”
"If you ever need a break…" Her voice trails off, softer now, but her eyes stay locked on mine. "To start dating again, or spend time with your brothers, your friends… I can come hang with Sawyer. You don't have to pay me. I just like being with her."
The growl that moves through my chest is low and involuntary, my grip on her face tightening just enough to pull a soft gasp from her.
Date someone else. Spend time with other people. While she stays home with my daughter like some kind of consolation arrangement, she's offering me out of the goodness of her heart.
Not a chance in hell.
"Why would I do any of that," I say, my voice dropping, "when you're the only person I want to spend time with?"
Her breath catches hard. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating as she stares up at me. This thing between us that’s been building is about to burst.
“You changed your hair because I told you that I liked it?” I ask her again, softer this time, more of a statement, but the weight behind the words is heavier than ever. I want her to admit that she did this for me. That she’s in this with me.
She nods. “Yeah, I did.”
And that’s when I know. I’m going to be selfish.
My thumb moves from her chin, up to her lips where I brush gently, watching the color change. Then she parts them, welcoming one into her mouth where she closes her eyes and sucks. Her tongue drags along the side, sucking me inward and I lose the ability to think clearly.
“Fuck me, Bri,” I rasp.
I grip her chin tighter, sliding my hand down until my fingers circle her throat, guiding her face up to mine.
I lower my head, our lips brush, I know Sawyer could come out here any second and catch us but resisting her stopped being an option the moment that I touched her that first Halloween night.
I close the space between us and crush my mouth to hers.
She opens for me instantly, like she's been waiting for it, her tongue sliding against mine, and every coherent thought in my head goes up in flames.
Her arms lock around my neck, pulling me closer, and I go willingly, dragging her flush against me until there's not a damn inch of space left between us.
The kiss turns reckless fast. Her hands are in my hair. My palms are gripping her ass. It’s the kind of kiss that makes it impossible to remember why you were trying to hold back in the first place.
My hand slides up to her waist, holding her steady as I take her mouth again and again, savoring every soft sound she makes. She tastes even better than I remembered.
The whole world narrows to her. Her mouth. Her breath. The way she melts against my chest.
It's the hottest, shortest kiss of my life.
Because every second I keep kissing her, my control slips a little further. Every second makes it harder to pull away. I’ll make up for this later. She's spending the night. We're going to talk. I'm going to make sure she eats, sleeps, and lets somebody take care of her for once.
When I finally lift my head, she blinks up at me, lips swollen, eyes heavy, already looking like she wants me to do it again.
My thumb drags across her bottom lip, tracing the pretty mouth I was just kissing.
And before I can talk myself out of it, I dip my head and steal one last kiss—short, filthy, completely unnecessary.
I catch her bottom lip between my teeth for a lingering second, savoring the soft gasp that escapes her before I finally, reluctantly, force myself away.
“Come on. Let’s go inside before Sawyer comes looking for us.”
I move around her, pressing my hand gently against the small of her back as I guide her toward my house. Touching her one last time before we face my daughter.
Because I can’t resist her anymore.