Chapter 28
Brynn
Hours after the Brawlers were massacred in Game 2, I got a message from Shea.
“Plane just landed in Boston. On my way home now. What are you up to?”
“Watching a movie in the den with Chloe.”
“Have you told her that you're leaving yet?”
“No.”
“Perfect. See you two soon.”
I stared at that last message and wondered, was he plotting something?
“Who are you texting?” Chloe asked.
“Nobody,” I lied, stuffing my phone away.
Chloe gave me a look. “Really, Brynn? Nobody? Even though I can hear your phone receiving text messages?”
I chuckled. “Okay, yes, it's your dad. He told me he's on his way home.”
“See? It's not that hard.”
“I just didn't want to get your hopes up.”
“Did you ever stop to think that acting strange is what got my hopes up in the first place?”
“Oh, you.” I smiled and patted Chloe on the head.
With the news that I would be leaving the family soon, I felt like I was carrying around a ticking time bomb. I knew it'd be a sad scene, and I figured it'd be easier to tell Chloe if Shea was there to help. Plus, I wasn't sure when I was leaving—either immediately after I found a suitable replacement, or once the playoffs were over. I didn't want Shea to have to worry about a new nanny when he was playing the most important games of his career.
As long as Shea could promise to keep things as normal and professional as possible between us—and that meant no weird phone calls or texts, definitely no touching or kissing, etc.—I'd stick around until the playoffs were over.
But if he couldn't keep good on that promise? I'd be out the door as soon as possible.
Not much later, there was a sudden mechanical groaning as the garage door began to open its maw.
“There's your father,” I said to Chloe.
She gritted her teeth. “Think I should run upstairs and go to bed before I see him?”
“Chloe! Why would you do that? You haven't seen him for days.”
The purr of the athlete's Bentley grew louder as he pulled into the garage.
“Because the Brawlers blew during those two games in Tampa. And you know how he gets when they lose an important game. I bet he's in a real shit mood.”
I frowned. “You're right.”
We heard the sound of his car door open and slam shut.
“See?” Chloe jumped off the couch, ready to sprint for her bedroom. “I'm outta here. Tell him I went to bed.”
But I grabbed her arm and pulled her back onto the couch.
“Wait, Chloe. You really should say hi to your father.”
“Fiiiine.”
The door opened, and the tall hockey player stepped in. But when I saw his smile—and what he tried (and failed) to hide behind his back—I found myself wishing I'd let Chloe run off after all.
***
“Dad!” Chloe squealed, beaming with delight. “Who are those for?!”
“Hi girls!” Shea said, an enormous bouquet of red roses clearly visible, no matter how much he tried to keep them hidden behind his wide frame.
I folded my arms and gave Shea the death stare. Yes, Shea, who are those for? Because I know they're not for me. Those are for anyone but me.
Sure, they were beautiful, but … c'mon. After everything? Really? Was his plan seriously to make an even bigger and more confusing show about our—er—whatever it was?
Shea neared, his eyes on me.
No no no no.
He held the bouquet out to me. “They're for Brynn, of course.”
“Yessssss!” Chloe hissed and pumped her fist.
“Shea,” I said, straining. “You shouldn't have.”
Like, really shouldn't have, ever.
Chloe continued her victory dance. “That's so sweet, Dad! Good job! Good going!”
Giving Shea the stink eye, I begrudgingly took the bouquet from his hand. See how worked up you've made your daughter? Was this really supposed to impress me?
“Well, they are gorgeous,” I muttered as I immediately slid off the couch and began the search for a vase large enough to hold all four or five dozen roses.
Meanwhile, Shea sat on the couch next to his daughter. “How was your week, sweetheart? I missed you.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I missed you too, Dad. My week was good. I'm sorry your games didn't go so well.”
I kept an eye and an ear trained on those two while I arranged the roses in a vase.
“Hey, it's okay. It's not over just yet. What's that sage piece of advice I'm always telling you?”
Chloe quoted him, with a disaffected teen groan. “'Play to the whistle.'”
“That's right.” He bopped her on the shoulder. “Hey, it's pretty late, kiddo. Why don't you run upstairs and get ready for bed?”
“Okay.” Chloe jumped off the couch and ran upstairs, but not before giving me a giant, exaggerated wink.
Ugh.
When it was just the two of us alone in the den, I quietly reprimanded him. “Are you insane?”
He smiled. “Maybe.”
“It's not funny! Why are you smiling? Did you think roses would change my mind about quitting?” I pointed angrily at the bouquet on the table. “Did you even stop to think how badly those damn things would screw with your daughter's head?”
“Don't worry. I'm going to talk to her in a few minutes.”
“And tell her what, exactly?”
“I'm going to tell her the truth, which is what she deserves to know.”
I slapped my forehead. “And what exactly is the truth, in this case? At this point, I can't keep track of what we're telling her anymore. Or each other, for that matter.”
“Hey, take it easy.”
He neared and tried to grab my hand, but I snatched it away.
“I'm only going to tell her that she was right—that I did have a secret crush on you all along. That she noticed it even before you did. Which is all true, by the way.”
“Risky,” I said, a stern finger in his face. “Very risky to tell her something like that. You'll only get her hopes up.”
Shea began to pace back and forth. “Unfortunately, because of my unprofessional crush on you, you can't continue to be our nanny anymore.”
“She'll be crushed when you tell her that,” I said, shaking my head.
“She'll be crushed when you tell her you're leaving regardless. At least this way, Chloe understands there's a reason behind you leaving, rather than being told that she's too young to understand why it didn't work out with a nanny who is otherwise a perfect fit. She already suspects we're pulling the wool over her eyes—she'll just hate us both when we break her heart and expect her to believe even more lies. This way, if anyone has to be the bad guy over you leaving, it'll be dumb ol' Dad with his hopeless, but totally understandable, crush.”
I grumbled. He had a point. “Okay, what else? Or is that the extent of your big master plan?”
“There is more, actually.” He lowered his voice. “I'm going to let Chloe in on a little secret: that I brought you those roses because I'm going to ask you out on a real date.”
“Shea!” I protested. “No!”
“—but don't get your hopes up too much, 'Chloe,' because I have no idea how Brynn feels about going out on a date with me in the first place.”
“Obviously, she'll think that I'm going to leap at the chance for a date with you, because of that stupid picture of me standing in front of your kiss-covered poster.”
Shea broke into a cocky grin. “Well, yeah, I was kinda banking on that same thing, too.”
I tutted. I wanted to stay mad at him, but he was slowly starting to win me over. “Do you really think that's going to work? And not just create an even bigger drama bomb for us both?”
“I don't see any other way out of this, Brynn. Do you? It's the closest thing to the truth that I can tell her. And yes, after hearing that she's still feeling mixed up about the divorce, of course I'm worried about her getting her hopes up for us—and that's why I'm also going to tell her that regardless of what happens between you and me, I'm going to start taking her to therapy sessions.”
I bobbed my head. “I think that's a really good idea.”
“Lastly, I'm only telling her all of this because I think she's grown up and mature enough to handle it, and so I need her to promise that she won't tell the twins about Dad and Brynn. Or her mom, for that matter, because that'd only cause her trouble.”
I mulled it over, trying to find a flaw in his plan. It wasn't perfect, no, but then again, nothing about this situation was perfect. Whichever path we took, things were going to get a little messy.
After thinking it through, I wasn't crazy about the idea, but I couldn't come up with any hard objections, either.
“I don't know what to say. If you think that this is the right thing to do, I won't stop you.”
“It's the best I've got, Brynn. Look, the truth is, we fucked things up the other night. Bad. But now the cat's out of the bag, and we can't keep denying it to each other. Or to Chloe.”
Hesitantly, I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Sometimes, I wonder if maybe I should've kissed you that first night after all. Maybe then, we would've realized right away that we had something—and we could've tried dating instead?” He shrugged. “Who knows, though. Maybe that kiss would've scared you off entirely and we'd have never seen you again.”
I giggled. “Your face was kind of gnarly looking, with the stitches and the dried blood. You'd gotten into a fight that night, remember?”
He laughed. “Ah-ha. You would've pushed me away. I was right to wait, then.”
“No,” I said, surrendering to a smile. “I wanted to kiss you anyway. You really blew it.”
“That's why I want a clean start with you.” He neared and took my hand. “Brynn, since your very first day, it's like you stepped into this house and filled a hole in everyone's heart. A hole that none of us even knew we had.”
I frowned. That was so sweet.
“But now that you've filled it, I realize how much you mean to me, and I can't just let you go. You're so much more than a nanny, Brynn. And now I realize that I was a fuckin' idiot to think that I could keep you around as a nanny. A smart, sexy, hilarious nanny with a great butt that I've been secretly checking out since the very beginning—”
The captain put his massive hands on my waist and turned me to the side so he could steal a glance at my rear.
“Shea!” I wiggled away from him and gave him a playful smack to the cheek.
“And I also realized, that's because of my own screwed-up brain. Because if you're just my nanny, you can't break my heart. I can keep you … forever … as long as I pay you so much money, you can't quit.” He shook his head. “But that's not true, either. I'm sorry, Brynn.”
He put his arms around my back and pulled me near. I ran my hands along his thick, muscled forearms.
“Think I'm fucked up in the head?” he asked, inching closer.
“Honestly?” I giggled. “Sorta.”
Shea leaned in for a kiss, but I stopped him.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Technically, you haven't asked me out on a date first.”
“Right.” He broke away from me. “I better go talk to Chloe before she falls asleep.”
“I'll be waiting here,” I said, burying my nose in the velvet-soft roses.
And then, once I've told you my piece, we'll see if you still truly want to date me …