Page 40 of More, Daddy (Bluebell Bruisers #3)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

“You’ve been holed up in your office every day for the last three weeks,” Leah groans, fishing mints from the dish on her desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from hermit West?”

I can’t even believe that Leah is my first stop, but when I worked it out in my head this morning, as Briar sucked me dry in the shower, this makes the most sense. Soft launch on Leah, then the guys, then hard launch on Bluebell itself.

“Can I close this?” I hold her office door, and she nods.

After we’re sealed inside, she tips her readers up and folds her hands over her stomach. “Okay, you have my attention and I swear to Christ if you tell me you’re quitting, I’ll murder you right here on the spot.”

I adjust my hat, and stack my ankle on my opposite knee. “You couldn’t kill me unless you had a gun.”

She narrows her eyes. “Could so.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

She takes another mint from the bowl and adds it to the three already in her mouth. “Spit it out then.”

“I’m in a relationship with Briar Matthews. No, it’s not just sexual but yes, it is sexual.” I drag the tip of my tongue between my lips, eyes tamped on Leah, trying desperately to read her while pretending it makes no difference.

I respect Leah.

She’s representative of the others on campus, too. She sets the tone. And I’m not gonna ask her to get behind me on this, to support me so others will, too. I don’t want that forced support. All that brings are whispers and side eyes.

I want her to support me because she’s my friend, and trusts my judgement.

I watch her face carefully as we stare at one another. If even a sliver of disdain or disgust passes through her features, I’ll know.

Finally, after what feels like way too fucking long, she sighs. “How old is she?”

My mind veers back to Briar’s file. The one I pulled up on the portal the other night.

I read every single note any teacher had ever written about her, all the way back to third grade, when Mr. Demopolis noted her attention to detail and clean penmanship.

I read it all, including the note in her file from third grade, written a few months after the one about her penmanship.

Quiet and reserved after the death of her mother, is what the last note by Mr. Demopolis said .

What’s interesting is that Cadence herself wrote Briar could be “too quiet” and “too much of a wallflower” for a cheer coach.

Yet, when I’m with Briar, she’s outgoing and vibrant. Her laugh adds color to my sepia existence, her smile makes my pulse leap, and her sense of humor has me smirking hours later. What nineteen-year-old has a vendetta against Elvis impersonators?

“She turns twenty next month,” I finally reply.

“Say it,” Leah says softly. “I need you to say it out loud, and look comfortable saying it if you’re asking the same of me.”

There’s subtext shoved into that sentence like crazy, and I read through it, nodding my head. “She’s nineteen years old, Leah. And she will be twenty in four weeks.”

“Nineteen,” Leah repeats.

I nod my head, and keep my shoulders set back, powerfully, my spine straight. “I read in her file that her dad stopped coming to parent teacher conferences around sixth grade.”

Leah arches a brow. “Does she know you read her file?”

I shrug. “I have access. She’s aware of that.”

She shakes her head. “Not what I asked.”

I shake my head in response. “No, she doesn’t know.”

“West, I–”

I take off my hat and shove a hand through my hair, hoping to dispel some of the frustration bubbling up inside me.

“Her dad’s a flake. A long haul trucker.

Shows up when he feels like it, leaves without a word.

” I swipe my hand over my forehead, finding myself suddenly sweaty.

“She pays the mortgage and most of the bills. And she’s been contributing to the bills since before she was a junior coach.

” I shake my head. “Nineteen going on twenty or not, she’s more grown and responsible than I was at her age. ”

Leah smiles, one of those crooked, kinda sad, kinda sweet smiles that infuriates me. “I know she is. I’ve known her for years, West. Briar is a sweet, kind girl. In fact, her mom was killed on the same stretch of black ice that took Jake Turner’s wife all those years ago.”

I scratch at the side of my jaw. “I didn’t know that.”

Leah nods. “Are you nervous about people knowing you’re dating someone so young? You seem like you came in here ready to convince me.”

I ignore the first part of that question in favor of being argumentative. “I don’t want to have to convince you of anything. But you are the first person I’m telling, and I won’t bullshit you.” Our gazes lock, years of friendship between us. “Your opinion matters.”

Leah tucks her hair behind her ears, and brings her hands together, making me nervous, in the way only a principal can do.

“You want me to be okay with it so you can be okay with it, but West, you have to be okay with it. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks.

If I say it’s fine, great, it’s fine, but am I the one absorbing those shitty judgey looks from the old ladies at the Eat O Rama on Sunday morning when you two are shopping?

Do I have to face the nurse at the OB office when you take Briar in for an appointment and tell them that you’re her partner, not her uncle or father? No, I don’t.”

“I’m not even old enough to be her father,” I say quietly.

Leah slaps her palm onto the desk, making her cat’s cradle clink together. “What’s holding you up?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t know.” I sigh.

“Liar. ”

I sigh again. “If anyone ever knew what we like, you know, in the bedroom,” I start, happy now to be a we and not just a me. “They’d think I wanted Briar because it plays into all that, you know?”

Leah pinches the bridge of her nose. “You have a kink. And it’s private.

If people find out and they judge you, who cares?

Honestly, who cares?” She shakes her head, stripping all the bullshit away from everything, leaving reality out there, raw and bare.

“Your life is short. You can either be happy or make everyone around you happy.”

I lick my lips. “I love her. I haven’t told her, but I’m in love with her.”

“Does she know what happened with Priscilla?” Leah asks, her voice quiet, private for my benefit.

I wobble my head. “Kind of. Broad strokes.”

Her phone rings, and she picks up, telling her assistant Denae to put the call on hold for the time being.

Leveling her gaze my way she says, “You really wanna know? I think you two make a great couple. Yes, she’s young but I know you both and I know you both well.

I can see it.” She picks up the handset and holds it to her ear, but keeps her finger hovering over the hold button.

“But tell her you read her file. Just because you have access doesn't mean you have the right, you know?”

She waves me off with the flick of her nails. “Gotta take this, close my door, call me later.”

Tanner has a particularly long practice, which leads to a stressed out Dean, which then turns into a very long post-practice training session.

He’s okay, but between Dean’s goals for Tanner and Tanner’s own dreams, they enter the office pretty stressed.

All I can think about is getting to Briar—because that’s what life is like when you have someone, I guess.

All you want to do is be with them? All you can do is think about them?

So strange. It’s been so long since I’ve had this all-consuming need to be in someone’s presence simply because they make my chest tight.

Still, I take my time with Tanner, and didn’t let him leave until he is worked out, iced, feeling good, and Dean is feeling good, too.

Briar and I started texting when she moved in, which very quickly devolved into Veiled 2.0, because we can’t stop messaging each other.

I told her I’d be late getting home but she never texted back.

No one knows that she lives with me, and if her father returned home in the last few weeks and noticed that his daughter is missing, he hasn’t seemed too concerned.

At least, she hasn’t heard from him. I don’t worry that she didn’t text back because she’s hurt, or that her father is there threatening to steal her back, but nonetheless, I don’t like that she didn’t reply.

I set my keys on the table, and lock the back door behind me.

Hanging my hat and suit coat on the hook near the door, I kick off my boots and flick on the kitchen light.

Her notebook and pencil are on the table, along with her laptop, opened but no longer on.

Working on the buttons on my dress shirt, I peer at her notebook where in long, curly letters she’s taken notes on the varsity half time dance, as well as junior varsity and freshman routines.

She’s likely typing up notes for Riley and Cadence.

I spot a half empty glass of milk next to an open package of Oreos, and notice the TV is on.

I leave everything as is, and find her purse on the couch, near her backpack.

After peering down the hall to make sure the coast is clear, I reach into her purse and dig around until I find the birth control.

Lifting it out, I turn it over, seeing tiny sheets of metal from where she’s pushed a pill out.

Flipping it back around, I count the days.

I glance back at the cookies and milk, and for a moment, feel so goddamn evil and wrong.

Briar wants me.

Why couldn’t that have been enough? Why couldn’t I forgive her like a normal person and move on?

I had to make her feel what I felt. The pain, the despair, the betrayal. I love her, but I had to teach her this lesson, so that we can move forward together, understanding what true loyalty is, and why it’s so important.

I thought I needed her to learn, that I had to show her loyalty, but as I hold the blister pack of sugar pills, knowing what I’ve done, I can’t help but feel disgusted.