Page 17 of The Sweet Spot

“I’ve been busy, Mom.” I grab tinted moisturizer and look at my reflection in the mirror, gently touching the dark circles under my eyes before I shake my head, exhausted. Fatigue sucks on a good day, and today may have started good, but damn, did it go downhill quickly. “I was going to call you back.”

“Would that have been before your next birthday?” she asks with a sarcastic lilt to her frustrated voice.

“My birthday is four months away, Mom.”

“Exactly,” she counters. “I’d hoped to see you today. Killian came for dinner and said you were moving. What’s he talking about?”

My little brother might be the prodigal son MMA fighter like our father, but I can and will kick his sorry ass the next time I see him.

Fuck this.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I draw in what feels like the final breath of strength I have left in my entire body. “I decided to trade condos with Maddox and Callen. I didn’t need all that space, and the guys wanted the extra room to spread out. We spent most of today moving things around.”

“Oh,” she answers, and I think I have may have shocked my mother speechless for the first time in my life. “Well... I suppose that makes sense. Killian mentioned Maddox said there’s extra room if he’s still thinking about moving out. I hope you made them do all the heavy lifting. You don’t need to be doing that, Brynn.”

“I’m fine, Mom.” Irritation clings to the thick air surrounding me. “If you already knew what happened, why did you ask?”

An alert pops up on my phone with a pinging notification. Apparently, the Kroydon Kronicles has gotten hold of the Revolution’s deal with Deacon Kane. Not that I’m surprised. They seem to get everything before anyone else in this damn town, and more often than not, my friends and I seem to be at the center of their attention.

I’ve had alerts set for mention of the Revolution or Kings teams in their columns for the past two years. I may also have my name and my friends’ names all set for alerts too. I like to be prepared.

I wonder, briefly, if Deacon’s seen this.

If he even knows about the Kroydon Kronicles.

If he’s as tired as I am.

If his offer still stands.

My mind wanders to this morning. To the excitement that danced over my skin and tugged at something deeper... Room 210... That’s what he said earlier.

“Brynlee... are you listening to me?” my mother asks, letting her annoyance at being ignored sneak blatantly back in.

I’m about to answer when a quiet knock at the door makes me wonder if I’m hearing things. Until it’s repeated again. That’s definitely a knock.

“I’ve got to go, Mom. Someone’s at the door.”

“Brynlee... you’re going to have to talk to me.”

I pick the phone up, wishing I could go back to the sunrise from this morning. Back to the beach... back to the peace.

“I know, Mom. But I meant what I said earlier. Uncle Max will have my resignation on his desk first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll stop by this week.”

“Brynlee—”

“Gotta go, Mom. Bye.” I disconnect the call and walk into my bedroom in my boy-cut panties and dark purple racerback tank top, then slide into a pair of jeans before walking down the hall to answer the door. A quick glance through the peephole probably should shock me, but it doesn’t.

I swing the heavy door open and smile coyly at the tall, dark, and handsome hockey player standing before me. He’s not the one I’d like to be looking at though. “Ares Wilder. What are you doing here?”

It’s rhetorical.

I saw the way he’s been looking at Grace this weekend.

I know that look.

He opens his mouth to answer, but I raise my hand, stopping him before he can speak. “No. Wait. Don’t answer that.” I step aside and let him in. “Let me go get Grace.”

“Brynn...” he starts, but I shake my head.

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