Page 86 of Winning Brynn

Leo:No.

Brynn:Ha! You just did it again.

Leo:I'm fine. Seriously.

Brynn:I really don't think you are, though...

Leo:Leave it, Brynn.

Brynn:Okay. No worries. I'll just go fuck myself, then.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Brynn

I change into apair of running shorts and one of Leo's giant white tees the moment we get home from the game.

The car ride back was a shit show of awkwardness and simmering tension, though Alex seemed to be under the impression that Leo was simply experiencing mid-season nerves. Apparently, he's as blind to reality as my mother says he is.

I know better, though.

I could see it in the way Leo kept rubbing his face and shifting from butt cheek to butt cheek in the front seat of my brother's Range Rover. Since we were carpooling today, Alex had kept his Bugatti in the garage of the apartment complex, ostentatious fuckface that he is.

Leo didn't even crack a smile when I started ribbing Alex about how he is single-handedly destroying the planet by owning multiple vehicles, or even when Salem farted so loudly we thought the car had backfired. He just sat there, all solemn and silent, with guilt written over every line and blemish on his face.

My heart was hurting for him. I could tell how deep his pain was running, could read the regret and contriteness all over him like my favorite book. But then he'd been a giant dick, made a show of putting his phone on silent, and stuffing it into his pocket to cut the conversation short, and I didn't feel so empathetic anymore.

Needless to say, now we're both pissed off.

The lamplight in my room flickers as I lie back on my bed, scooping Gordon onto my chest and letting him pad away at my shirt contentedly. Across the hall, the sound of Leo moving around as he transfers Salem from the car seat to her bed drifts to me through the closed door.

My heart sinks. I didn't say goodnight to her.

Frankly, I blame her father for that. Because if he wasn't such an emotionally stunted, pigheaded asshole, then I wouldn't have escaped straight to my room the moment the front door was unlocked. I definitely wouldn't be lying here now with my forehead aching from frowning so much. I'd be right there beside him, settling the baby in her crib as if she were really my daughter.

I'll probably sneak in later to give her a kiss and whisper goodnight, but that isn't the point.

The point is that Leo had no business being so short with me when I was simply trying to be there for him. Yet, no matter how butthurt I feel that he snapped at me, I'm still worrying about him.

With a long sigh, I drop Gordon gently onto the bed, the linen pluming like smoke around him, then drag myself out of the room into the living area.

It's empty.

Leo is either still in Salem's room or has taken himself to bed alone, which he's allowed to do, of course. Just because we've started sleeping with each other doesn't mean that we have to sleepbesideeach other every night. He's his own man. He can sleep alone if he wants. I know that. Hell, maybe I want to sleep alone too.

Except, I don't.

As beautiful as my room is, with its soft light and gentle greens and linen sheets, I've grown accustomed to sleeping in Leo's room. Next to him. Or on top of him. Or wrapped in the warm safety of his arms with his cheek resting on my head, where the nightmares can't get to me and Indiana Jones never loses his lasso.

But I'm not four years old. I can sleep in my cold, empty bed in another room without him, no problem.

That's what I tell myself anyway as I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and watch the lights of Seattle blinking and blurring together. When the clouds swell and burst with rain, I track each teardrop down the glass as if they were my own, until the cold chill of an empty room has me wrapping my arms around myself and turning my back on the city.

Leo watches me from the arch of the hallway, leaning against the wall with a furrow to his brow. Embarrassing as it is, my heart tumbles at the sight of him. And just like that, knowing he’s close, I don't feel so cold anymore.

"Hi," I whisper.

He gives me a stiff bro-nod. "Hi."

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