Page 108 of Winning Brynn

Leo:I don't want her at my home.

Brynn:I understand.

Leo:Ten minutes. That's all I'm giving her.

Brynn:I'll let her know.

Leo:I'm not promising anything.

Brynn:I know.

Leo:I don't want to do this.

Brynn:You don't have to. It's your choice.

Leo:I don't want Salem to grow up and hate me.

Brynn:She'd never hate you. You're her dad, and she loves you. That will never change.

Leo:Yeah.

Brynn:Want me to come with you?

Leo:No, it's okay. I think I have to do this alone.

Brynn:I'll be right here when you're ready.

Leo:I know.

Leo:Thank you.

Chapter Thirty-four

Brynn

Four days after Leoand Issy had their sorely needed conversation, in which he had begrudgingly agreed not to stand in the way of Salem and Issy building a relationship, I tuck my hands into my coat pocket and breathe out a plume of white air. Not too far away, Issy is pushing Salem in the local playground’s swing set, her lip strangled between her teeth and a furrow to her brow.

“You okay?” I ask, pulling my coat tighter around myself as I step up beside her.

She drops her lip, but the lines between her eyebrows remain jagged and deep. “I’m fine.”

That earns her a snort from me. If the time I’ve spent with Leo has taught me anything, it’s that “fine” doesn’t mean fine.

I tug the neckband of my sweater up to my mouth to shield my skin from the icy wind and nudge Issy’s foot with my own. “You can talk to me, you know?” She nods, though it isn’t one of agreement. It’s a slow movement, weighted with the baggage that hangs between us. Sucking in a breath, she toes the ground with her sneakers in between each push of Salem in the swing. “It’s kind of weird, though, isn’t it?”

Ah. I was wondering when the subject of Leo and me would come up.

We’ve both done a pretty spectacular job of pretending that we haven’t seen the same man naked, up until this point. So much so that I’d managed to trick myself into believing that my friend and boyfriend—boyfriend? lover? fuckbuddy?—had never even had sex at all. That Issy had fallen pregnant through other means. Divine intervention, even. Like the Virgin Mary, just without all the shepherds and kings—which, in hindsight, would have made Salem the Second-Coming, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Regardless, the fact that the subject is coming up now is both relieving and deeply uncomfortable.

“What part of our situation are you referring to exactly?”

She calls me on my bullshit with a single pointed look, but I still refuse to be the first to say what we’re both thinking out loud, which brings us to a bit of an impasse.

Issy continues to swing Salem back and forth. Say giggles intermittently because the girl fucking loves a swing, and I remain steadfast in my mission to pretend that my friend doesn’t intimately know what it feels like to have Leo’s dick inside of her.

“Brynn,” she sighs finally.

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