Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

brOOKLYNN

My client tilts her head to the side as she tells me what color she's thinking of going… and not just changing color. She wants to add bangs. Immediately, I know that something has happened.

"Bangs?" I ask.

She juts her chin in the air, and her eyes find mine in the reflection. "Bangs."

Instead of doing what she wants, I spin her around and look down into her eyes. Her gaze finds mine, her eyes widening at my sudden move. Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times before I clear my throat.

"What happened to make you want bangs?" I ask.

Her attention shifts from mine and flicks down to her lap before she shifts it back. "My husband cheated on me," she whispers. "He left to be with her."

I hum, knowing that it had to do with a man. No woman wants bangs randomly, along with a whole new cut and changing her color. It's too many changes at once, so I knew it was because of something big.

"Okay," I say on an exhale. "Let's not do anything insane. Bangs could work on you, but I feel like that's going to be something far too drastic. Let's do a new style and color. Ease into the changes?"

Her gaze flicks to the side then slowly shifts back to meet mine again. "I just don't want to be myself, not ever again."

My heart aches for her. Completely breaks into a million pieces. I can't imagine what she's going through. I've never been married, but that kind of betrayal isn't something you ever get over. It no doubt sticks to you, to your bones, in a way where it will never disappear.

Reaching out, I take her hand in mine and give her a gentle squeeze. She doesn't want my pity, but she's getting my support no matter what. She's been a client since I was in beauty school, so I'm not just going to brush her off and fuck her hair up all in the same day.

"You're kind and beautiful," I whisper. "Whatever he did, that was on him, not you. But I'm going to make you see your beauty because it's there. Don't ever let him take that from you. Trust me?" I ask.

She smiles. It's a small smile, and it doesn't reach her eyes, but she tries, and that is the first step. Turning her back around, I take a look at her bleached-blonde hair and harsh, blunt cut, and I make my decision.

"Have you ever heard of the new color trend, old-money blonde?" I ask.

"I haven't," she whispers.

With a hum, my decision is confirmed. "You're going to love it. I mean, it's not as drastic as red, but it's enough that you will feel and look like a completely different person."

God, the idea of turning her hair red kind of makes my stomach turn. Not because I dislike red. I like red, but the maintenance is hell, and not everyone can pull it off.

"I'm also going to add some soft highlights," I murmur.

And then I leave my client to go in the back and mix her new color. I step into the mixing room to get all of my supplies and start to create the color that I know will make her feel brand new and gorgeous when the door opens and Ayden calls out my name.

Lifting my head, I look at her. She's watching me from the doorjamb and tilts her head to the side. I roll my lips a few times as I wait for her to continue. I have no idea what she's going to say, but it's clear this isn't a joke. This is something serious.

"Have you been online recently?" she asks.

"Why would I?" I ask.

She whistles, then takes a step toward me. The last time there was online social media drama, it was totally blown out of proportion and was nothing the way it seemed. So, since then, I've stayed away from it all. I post things for the salon and answer messages. That's the extent of my social media.

"There's a girl on there who has gone semi-viral. She says that she's Forrest's fiancée and that you're the other woman. I know it's bullshit, but the comments are gross, and she's made sure to play the victim, crying and giving everyone enough information to figure out who you are. It's a bloodbath."

"Kiki," I whisper.

Ayden's eyes widen. I only told the girls the highlights of my trip with Forrest. We got together, and the parties were fabulous, but his parents weren't super awesome. What I didn't tell them was that it's clear Forrest's mother wants him with Kiki.

I didn't mention it because it was not important to me. Now I wish I had, then this wouldn't be so surprising. But to me, if Forrest wanted to be with her, he would be. So, it wasn't anything worth mentioning.

He's not the kind of man to do something he doesn't want to do, especially since he isn't working for his father to get his inheritance. If he were that kind of man, he would have dropped everything and run to his father for the cash.

"Kiki?" she asks.

I'm so lost in thought that I forgot she was there. I jerk my head and give her a small smile. "Yeah," I exhale. "Some family friend, and it was clear to me that his mom wanted them together. God, she's a bitch, too."

Ayden laughs, then rolls her lips together before she speaks. "Well, seems like the bitch is going to be a problem."

"As much as I want to say it's only a problem if I allow it to be a problem, I know the power of social media, and we have a business to run," I murmur.

"You need to talk to Forrest," she murmurs. "But I'm not going to tell you what to do or how to handle things."

Thanking her, I take my mixed and ready color to my client. Pushing throughs of Kiki and Forrest out of my head, I give all my energy and focus to my client. I'll worry about the other stuff later.

But not too much later, because if Kiki is being the kind of bitch it sounds like she's being, I need to stop it from growing and morphing into something really freaking ugly.

FORREST

Ignoring the call from my mother, I head toward the car. I just left my attorney's office, and shit does not look good. My birthday is in a week, and I know I'm not getting my money delivered to me on a silver platter the way I imagined.

In fact, he doesn't think I have a leg to stand on—in other words.

I'm fucked.

Starting my car, I stare at the attorney's office and let out a grunt. I should go to my father and just give in. Brooklynn is right. This is not just for me but for my children as well. I can't do that and live with myself, though. I can't give in to my father's demands. I've come way too far for that.

Instead of going home, I make my way toward Brooklyn. I know she's probably got a few more hours of work since most of her clients are scheduled for later in the day. Swinging by the coffee place, I order her drink before I continue on my journey.

My phone buzzes with incoming messages as I drive, but I ignore them all. I'm not sure who it is or why my phone is being blown up, but my focus right now is Brooklynn. I'm feeling fucking anxious about what the attorney said.

I'm not sure why, but I need her reassurance that everything is going to be okay. I know it is. It has to be—even though I fucked up by spending every goddamn dime I ever made in hockey. But that is done now.

I'm going to make money, I'm going to invest, and I'm going to show my parents that I need absolutely nothing from them.

Nothing.

I'm going to fucking make it in this world. I have no other option. I cannot and will not fail. I'm also going to make it with this woman by my side. I'm going to keep her because she is who I want but also who I need.

Parking in front of the salon, I wrap my fingers around Brooklynn's favorite iced coffee order and unfold from the front seat, closing the door behind me. I lock my car and shove my key in my pocket, my phone buzzing every two seconds.

After I open the door to the salon, my eyes scan the room until they lock in on her. She flicks her attention to me, and her eyes widen before her lips part.

"You brought me an iced coffee?" she asks in a whisper.

I hold it out to her, and she lifts her hand, wrapping her fingers around the sweating cup. I watch as she brings it to her lips, wrapping them around the straw as if it's the most amazing thing that's ever been in her mouth.

I have to admit that it makes my cock twitch beneath my zipper because she has that exact same expression when her lips are wrapped around my dick. Fuck me, Brooklynn is sexy as shit.

When she opens her eyes, it's not her who speaks, but the woman in her chair with foils all wrapped in her hair. She turns toward me, her eyes wide. "Congratulations on your engagement," the woman states.

My eyes widen.

My heart slams against my chest, and I lift my gaze to Brooklynn. I stare at her in question. Did we get engaged, and I did not realize it? But when Ayden makes her way over to us, wrapping her fingers around my elbow, she gently tugs on me, and I turn to her.

"You have a little bit of a problem," she whispers.

"Problem?" I ask, then turn my head to look back at Brooklynn. She's placed her drink down on her counter and is checking on the hair that's wrapped in foil.

Brooklynn clears her throat and speaks before Ayden can answer. "Kiki has become famous. She's engaged to Forrest Westwood, and the conniving hairdresser, Brooklynn, is trying to steal her man."

What.

The.

Fuck?