Page 16 of The Sweet Spot

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that, Deacon...” Isla trails off, and my body tightens, anticipating the hit coming my way, which years of knowing this woman has trained me to expect from that tone of voice.

I’ve been waiting for it since I told Shaun and her I wanted more time with Kennedy, now that I’ll be closer.

Shaun is a VP at a Fortune 100 tech company outside of Philadelphia. Not exactly an easy drive for weekend visitation when I was coaching in Boston. Isla and I have spent Kennedy’s life with a solid custody agreement in place, but it was one that didn’t give me as much time with my daughter as I wanted. However, it was the best thing for her.

Isla was unusually quiet when I broke what I thought was exciting news about my new job and the move to Philly that came with it this weekend.

Isla is never quiet.

I should have been on high alert.

She stays quiet for another few moments before she blows out a heavy breath. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t mention this when you were here, but in my defense, Shaun just got the final word after you’d already left.”

“Final word on what?” I ask, cracking my neck left and right as the tension tightens my muscles.

“Shaun is being relocated,” she sighs, and I freeze.

“Where?” I ask, not waiting for an answer before pushing harder. “Where is the transfer to, Isla?” An angry heat works its way down my body as my fist balls against the steering wheel.

“Japan,” she answers, knowing the blow she’s dealing.

“What the hell, Isla!” I yell loud enough inside my truck that the elderly couple who just walked into the parking lot stop and stare at me, probably checking to see if I’m about to murder someone.

“That’s not just a transfer. That’s a whole other fucking continent. You can’t even take our daughter out of the country without my written consent. You sure as fuck can’t just move her across the goddamned world and think I’m going to let you.”

“You’re upset?—”

“You’re fucking right, I’m upset,” I yell before pressing down against my temples. “Half the reason I just took this job with the Revolution was to be closer to Kennedy, and now you’re trying to take her away from me. I might not enforce it, Isla, but we have a fifty/fifty custody agreement. Don’t forget it.”

“Hey, you need to calm down and not threaten me, Deacon. I’m not the enemy here.”

“Oh, I’m as calm as I’m getting, Isla. And if you’re trying to take my daughter from me, that makes you my enemy.” I stare at her name displayed on the Bluetooth screen and grind my teeth so hard I should be glad they don’t crack.

This isn’t the life I want for Kennedy.

“Our daughter,” Isla corrects me. “And we’ll figure this out. Together. Like we always do.”

“If you try to take her out of this country, I will fight you with everything I have,” I warn as calmly as I can.

“We’ll talk more when we get home next weekend, Deacon. I’ll send more pics. Go get some sleep and let me know how your meeting with the Kingstons goes tomorrow.” She says the words like everything is fine, and she didn’t just toss a grenade in my lap as she steps back to have a better view of its destruction.

“This. Isn’t. Settled,” I tell her before ending the call.

I’ve had to fight for every single thing in my life, and my ex-wife is in for a world of pain if she thinks I’m going to roll over without fighting for my daughter.

Brynlee

My phone rings as I finish blow-drying my hair, fresh from the shower. I envy women who can wash their hair and go. If I let my hair air-dry, I’d look like a hot mess. My curls aren’t the tight ringlets they were when I was younger, but those suckers are still making my life harder than it needs to be.

I flip my head over and run my fingers through the thick hair once before popping back up and looking at the phone with hesitation when I see it’s my mother... again. This is the fourth time she’s called today, and if I don’t give in and answer her, she’s just as likely to show up at my front door, calling my bluff.

Don’t ever play poker with my mother. She’ll call your bluff every time.

I slide my finger across the screen and hit the speaker option, then wait... because I can. Bratty, yes. But also effective.

“Brynlee St. James,” her voice calls out to me. “I’ve been calling you all day.”

Like there’s any possible way I missed that.

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