Page 98 of How to Prevent a Fumble

“I just want you to be comfortable here. To feel like someone cares.”

She looks around as she worries her lip, a deep crease settling between her brows. “I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything, Leo. I can’t accept these gifts,” her arm lifts, gesturing to the office.

A rock settles at the pit of my stomach. “You don’t like the records?”

It’s not until the words are out of my mouth that I realize they’re entirely the wrong words to ask. As tears well in her beautiful brown eyes, I move to her in an instant, wrapping her in my arms.

Tucking her head to my chest, I rest my chin on her head. We’ve been in this position before, back at her apartment.

But this feels entirely different.

“Hey,” I tell her as she starts to cry, my thin shirt instantly damp. Moving my hands to her shoulders, I gently push her away just enough for me to look down into her eyes, hoping and praying that my words come across sincere. “I did that because I wanted you to smile. I wanted you to have a place in my home where you can go and do what you love, because if you’re staying here, you deserve that. I got those records because I want you to look at your collection and think abouthow much you love those songs or that band. I didn’t want you to constantly think about the records you were missing, ones you clearly loved, because they were broken.”

Briar blinks slowly, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room, and when her lips part, I so desperately want to capture them in mine.

Watching a strand of blonde hair drop from her bun, I grab it, tucking it behind her ear, and I feel her shiver at the contact.

“I promise you,” I tell her, my finger trailing from her ear to her jawline before settling under her chin, tipping it up. “I swear on my life that I will never hold any of this over you. I promise on everything. These things are nothing to me, and even under this tough exterior, I know the records meant a lot to you. At least let me give you those.”

Briar continues to stare at me, and our proximity becomes unbearable as I feel her breath against my lips.

But she nods. It’s not a big nod. It’s not an action you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. But happened.

And before I can do something I can’t come back from, I back away, raking my fingers through my hair as I watch her look anywhere but me.

Without a word, she turns on her heel and heads to her room.

29

BRIAR

Iemerge from my bedroom the next morning at the ungodly hour of five a.m. to find Leo and Elara making breakfast again, only this time Elara is actually helping Leo.

“Mom likes her pancakes with like a whole pound of butter,” Elara says, handing him a stick.

“A whole pound?” he asks, his eyes wide as he takes it from her.

She nods solemnly. “Yes. It’s bad for her, I know. I keep telling her.”

Firstly, I use one small square of butter per pancake. That’s nothing terrible. And definitely not an entire pound. Second, my kid is a brat.

“What are you lying to Leo about?” I ask, Champ at my heels as I enter the room.

Both Leo and Elara turn, their eyes wider than ever as they realize they’re busted.

“Elara was just saying how beautiful you are,” Leo says with a smile as Elara sends him a thankful glance.

“Cut the shit, Warner.”

He looks down at my daughter beside him and shrugs.

Grabbing dog food, I fill Champ’s bowl before settling into the island chair, where I’m immediately served a mug of coffee, a plate of pancakes, and syrup. Elara heads to the fridge, opening it and scratching her head before turning to Leo, who shrugs once more. Elara starts grabbing creamers, and before I can say something, she pushes them across the counter as far as she can toward me.

All ten creamers. Leo had gotten more while he was at some specialty store. He said that they looked interesting, and he wanted me to try them out.

“Thank you,” I smile at her, immediately digging in.

Leo flips a couple more pancakes before adding them to a plate and setting them down. Loading a plate up, he gives it to Elara, who sits next to me before fixing himself a plate.

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