Page 78 of Winning Brynn

Her utter seriousness breaks my heart, the hopefulness in her silver eyes shattering me like a sword through the soul.

Leo clears his throat. "I need to chat with Miss Jessica about something before we go. Are you okay with Salem?"

"Of course." I nod my head, redirecting my attention back to Ivy and distracting her with some plastic cups that she uses to build a tower for Salem to knock over.

But all too soon, I’m saying goodbye.

"See you soon, my sweet girl," I whisper as I hug Ivy close to my chest and promise to be back later in the week.

And it is all I can do to stop tears from welling in my eyes, because every step I take away from her echoes with the sadness that comes from knowing I'll never be a mother to either of the two little girls who I love with all my heart.

"Daddy Sully and the bros" group chat

Alex:Boys’ night at Sully's?

Roman:I'm down for that.

Alex:Bring beer.

Roman:We have a game tomorrow, dickhead. I'd rather my captain isn't hungover when we play.

Alex:Bring the non-alcoholic stuff, then.

Roman:But it tastes like piss.

Alex:Then bring fucking kombucha. Just stop whining like a little bitch.

Roman:You really shouldn't use that phrase. It's rife with misogynist undertones.

Alex:Fuck my life.

Leo:I don't remember inviting you guys over.

Alex:I'm outside your door.

Roman:Pulling up now.

Chapter Twenty-five

Leo

"Where's my Say Say?"Alex thrusts a six-pack of beer into my arms, whipping his head around in search of my daughter as he storms through my apartment. "Don't tell me she's already in bed."

Rolling my eyes, I follow him down the hallway into the living room, where Brynn is feeding Salem her last bottle of the night.

"There she is." He squeals, beelining straight for the baby.

"'Sup, bro." Brynn tips her head at her brother, huffing a short sigh of exasperation when he steals Salem for himself. Then she holds out a hand in my direction, her eyes sparkling, as she wiggles her fingers in a silent demand for a beer.

Fucking princess.

It makes me want to take her over my lap and spank her ass raw. Or bend her over the kitchen island and fuck her until tears roll down her cheeks.

It's funny how her attitude was one of the reasons I disliked her so much at the beginning. I thought she was vapid, self-absorbed, and conceited—the type to block my car in the car park so she could grab a drink from Starbucks. I know now that the blasé, careless mask she wears is only to shield herself from the world. And the sass she shoots me now comes from a place of teasing, of mirth, even seduction.

Because, fuck me, is it a turn-on now.

Slipping a bottle into her hand, I give an exaggerated bow and tip my ball cap. "For you, m'lady."

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