Page 75 of Crush
“Nobody,” I lied, stuffing my phone away.
Chloe gave me a look. “Really, Brynn?Nobody?Even though I can hear your phone receiving text messages?”
I chuckled. “Okay, yes, it's your dad. He told me he's on his way home.”
“See? It's not that hard.”
“I just didn't want to get your hopes up.”
“Did you ever stop to think that actingstrangeis what got my hopes up in the first place?”
“Oh, you.” I smiled and patted Chloe on the head.
With the news that I would be leaving the family soon, I felt like I was carrying around a ticking time bomb. I knew it'd be a sad scene, and I figured it'd be easier to tell Chloe if Shea was there to help. Plus, I wasn't surewhenI was leaving—either immediately after I found a suitable replacement, or once the playoffs were over. I didn't want Shea to have to worry about a new nanny when he was playing the most important games of his career.
As long as Shea couldpromiseto keep things as normal and professional as possible between us—and that meant no weird phone calls or texts, definitely no touching or kissing, etc.—I'd stick around until the playoffs were over.
But if he couldn't keep good on that promise? I'd be out the door as soon as possible.
Not much later, there was a sudden mechanical groaning as the garage door began to open its maw.
“There's your father,” I said to Chloe.
She gritted her teeth. “Think I should run upstairs and go to bed before I see him?”
“Chloe! Why would you do that? You haven't seen him for days.”
The purr of the athlete's Bentley grew louder as he pulled into the garage.
“Because the Brawlersblewduring those two games in Tampa. And you know how he gets when they lose an important game. I bet he's in a real shitmood.”
I frowned. “You're right.”
We heard the sound of his car door open and slam shut.
“See?” Chloe jumped off the couch, ready to sprint for her bedroom. “I'm outta here. Tell him I went to bed.”
But I grabbed her arm and pulled her back onto the couch.
“Wait, Chloe. You really should say hi to your father.”
“Fiiiine.”
The door opened, and the tall hockey player stepped in. But when I saw his smile—and what he tried (and failed) to hide behind his back—I found myself wishing I'd let Chloe run off after all.
***
“Dad!” Chloe squealed, beaming with delight. “Who are those for?!”
“Hi girls!” Shea said, an enormous bouquet of red roses clearly visible, no matter how much he tried to keep them hidden behind his wide frame.
I folded my arms and gave Shea the death stare.Yes, Shea, who are those for? Because I know they're not for me. Those are foranyonebut me.
Sure, they were beautiful, but … c'mon. After everything? Really? Was his planseriouslyto make an even bigger and more confusing show about our—er—whatever it was?
Shea neared, his eyes on me.
No no no no.
