Brogan (Carolina Reapers 9)

Brogan studied me for a minute, those eyes raking down my body and back to my eyes in a look that I felt along every inch of my skin. “Fair enough,” he said, but that cocky look stayed firmly in place. “But on those days where you’re struggling, Fiona?” he said, and a warm shiver ran down my spine at the rough way he said my name. “I’m expecting you to let me know. If I can’t already tell, that is. I’m the first to admit I’m new to this,” he said, glancing down at Skye who gazed up at him with her cheek pressed against his bare chest. “I don’t do relationships,” he said, and I arched a brow at him. “Not that we’re in a relationship, but…” He shrugged. “The longest-running relationship I’ve had is hockey. Nothing has ever compared to the feeling I get when I’m on the ice or the family I have with my team. So, I decided a long time ago that I’d never commit to anyone unless that person made me feel like I was on the ice.” I nodded as he continued. “That might sound insane to you but—”

“It doesn’t,” I cut him off. “It makes sense.”

He blew out a breath. “Good,” he said. “So, what I’m trying to say is I’m not the most perceptive. If you're drowning, I don’t see it. Tell me.”

“Okay,” I said, my heart warming just a fraction.

He glanced down at Skye again, continuing his rocking motion. “I’m…grateful that you’re here. I don’t know what I would’ve done if Langley hadn’t called you.”

I swallowed hard. “You would’ve figured it out,” I said, but I felt his appreciation in my bones. “Plus, it’s not like I’m a hero,” I teased. “You are paying me.”

He chuckled, keeping focus on Skye. “Not enough. The pointers you’ve given me have made me feel like I won’t break her.”

I laughed. “Everyone worries about that,” I said. “You’re doing great, Brogan.” Silence descended between us, and I hated the tension coiling in my body as I stood there, suddenly unsure of myself. “Do you want to shower?” I blurted out the question and felt heat swarm to my cheeks at the mental images that flared to life behind my eyes.

“In a little bit?” he asked, totally oblivious to my near-meltdown of awkwardness. “I want to hold her a little bit longer.”

Oh, damn you, Brogan Grant, saying all the right things.

“Of course,” I choked out and hurried out of the room. Busying myself with something, anything to put distance between us. I grabbed a load of dirty clothes and headed to the laundry room, spending way more time in there than I needed to.

We’d lived in a constant sort of limbo-exhausted-chaos the past week, and now we were breaking ground and heading straight toward bonding. Which, yes, that was good since I lived with him and took care of his daughter full time, but now that my body was reacting to him too? Fucking hell, I was in trouble.

5

Brogan

My body collapsed—that was the only word for it—after practice, and I sat on the bench as the guys around me took off their gear, willing myself to move.

“You looked good today,” Sterling said from across the room.

I grunted, knowing he was full of shit. I was slow, unsteady, and half asleep. Fuck, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d honestly slept. The days were all kind of a blur, and the only thing that differentiated night from day was whether or not I had practice.

I ate whenever Skye let me.

I showered whenever Fiona told me to.

I slept whenever Skye slept...which was pretty much never.

How the fuck did people survive parenting one child, let alone sign up to have two or more?

“Stop lying to him.” Maxim snorted, slapping me on the back. “You know you’re skating like shit. We know you’re skating like shit. Doesn’t mean we don’t love you, but there’s no need to coddle your ass.” He shrugged.

“True.” Piece by piece, I took off my gear, throwing it into the locker behind me.

“You getting any sleep?” Axel asked, concern etching his features.

“Some here and there,” I answered.

“You have to let the nanny do her job,” Coach lectured from his office doorway, pinning me with a stare. The guy had two kids of his own, so it wasn’t like he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Look, she went three months without knowing she even had a father,” I explained, stripping down so I could head to the shower. “I’m not about to hand her over to Fiona when I’m perfectly capable of handling some late nights.”

Fiona. Sleep deprivation must have been getting to me, because that strictly professional line I’d talked myself into creating two weeks ago was blurring. Fast. Hell, I spent more time with her than I did my friends.