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When she looks back to me, she says, “It’s so beautiful, and baby…I really want to do dirty things to you right now.”

Grinning, I pull her on top of me and she then proceeds to kiss the fuck out of me.

Then she does really dirty things as well.Chapter 27BrookeKnocking twice on my dad’s office door, I wait just a second before opening it. My dad’s head is bent over a digital tablet, watching game video—most likely their upcoming opponents. The team flies east late this afternoon for a four-game road trip. I’ve got my suitcase packed and in the trunk of my car, and I’m actually really excited about this. Turns out, missing Bishop when he’s gone just really sucks.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says as he looks up at me, then back to the tablet, pausing the video. “What’s up?”

I step in and shut the door. I got into work early today knowing my dad would already be here in his office, doing whatever it is that great coaches do to make great teams.

“Well, I wanted to share something with you,” I say hesitantly, my heart beating like a mad drummer on cocaine.

“What’s that?” he asks, his voice immediately going on guard and his jaw setting tight.

I give him a smile. “It’s not bad, I promise.”

Stepping up to his desk, I hold my left hand out so he can see the engagement ring on my finger. “Bishop and I made it official last night and now you can stop worrying about it, sure that your little girl is exactly where she needs to be.”

My dad’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he stares at the ring a bit more before slowly returning his gaze back to me. He seems flustered, perhaps a bit confused. He sort of stumbles over his words. “Well…that’s, um…good. I mean…great. It’s just a little…shocking.”

“Shocking?” I ask him with a laugh as I lower my hand. “You’ve practically been breathing down Bishop’s neck about it. I thought it would make you happy.”

Shaking his head, my dad turns on a smile and backpedals a bit. “Of course I’m happy. If you’re happy, that is.”

“I am,” I assure him, and that’s the truth. My relationship with Bishop is crazy and twisted and on uneven ground, but I’m very happy right now.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he says as he pushes up from his chair. He walks around his desk and pulls me into a hug. “I only want the best for you, honey.”

“Thanks, Dad. I want the same for you.”

When we break apart, I put my hand to his chest and ask, “How are you, Dad? I mean…how are you really doing? You work so much and I hardly see you, but—”

“Brooke,” he says, cutting me off softly. “I’m really good, honey. I mean really. Taking this job, moving away from New York—I didn’t know it at the time, but I really needed it.”

My body practically deflates in on itself, my relief in hearing that is so profound. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

“I feel a little guilty, though,” he admits to me before turning back to his desk chair. I think putting the desk between us is a sign of his vulnerability right now.

“You shouldn’t,” I tell him.

“I feel like I’m leaving your mother behind.”

“Never,” I tell him. “She’ll always be in your heart. Always.”

He nods at me, but seems unsure whether or not that’s a truth he can accept. Regardless, he’s told me that he’s happy here, and that’s all that matters. He’ll still work through his grief, but at least he has things giving him joy right now, and that will help to make it bearable.

When I return to the administrative offices, I’m still about five minutes early, so I take a moment to grab a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll from the vending machine in the break room. I’m never hungry when I first wake up, and then I’m starving by the time I get here. I keep telling myself to bring in something healthy to eat, but damn…those cinnamon rolls are so freaking good and I work out regularly, so I can afford some cheats a few days a week.

I take my coffee and roll to my office, and while my computer boots up, I remove the plastic wrapper. It goes into the trash can and I lick the icing that got on my fingers, which is stupid, since I then just pick up the roll and get gooey stuff all over me.

Just as I have my mouth open at its widest point to take a bite, there’s a quick knock on my door before it opens. Sebastian is standing there.

I snap my mouth closed and drop the roll onto a napkin quickly using another to wipe off my fingers. It gets some of the gunk off, but they remain sticky.


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