He grumbles, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “You keep that up, kid, and I’ll make you Uncle Deac.”
“Deal. It won’t happen again.” Because I’d rather be Daddy. Then I lift Savannah out and settle her against my chest. She curls her tiny hand around my shirt, warm and trusting, like she’s already decided I pass inspection.
Paul watches us for a second, shaking his head. “You’re a sucker, you know that?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I’ve been called worse.”
She’s warm, solid, but somehow fragile in the way babies always are — like the whole world quiets down when they end up in your arms. Savannah tucks her head under my chin without hesitation, tiny fingers curling around the collar of my shirt.
Her hair smells faintly like baby shampoo and the warm vanilla scent off her mother. She’s got those half-sleepy eyes that flutter open and closed, studying me like she’s deciding if I’m safe. I don’t move, just shift her against my chest and sway a little, more out of instinct than anything.
“How the hell is something so small and defenseless feel like it would wreck you?” I ask out loud instead of keeping it in mydamn head where it belongs. My chest tightens, not in a bad way, just full. Heavy with something that feels like peace wrapped in the most precious responsibility.
Paul’s quiet beside me. I can feel his gaze, but he doesn’t say a word, and that’s good because I’m not sure what I’d say back.
Savannah gives this tiny sigh, one of those soft baby sounds that feels louder than it should, then nestles in closer. Her little hand pats my chest, slow and clumsy.
I swear she smiles — not one of those random baby gas smiles either.
“For a guy who’s faced down six-foot defensemen and crowds screaming his name, it doesn’t seem right, but she’s got me too.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, barely above a whisper, “you’ve got us, little one.”
Paul silently chuckles, and I head over and sit down next to him. “A goalie wondering how something so small seems like the most important thing around.” He laughs out loud. “Little puck.”
“Absolutely not,” Nalani laughs, and I look over my shoulder and see her and Claudia, who is shaking her head.
I stand and give the movers a nod as I brush my lips over the soft curls on Savannah’s head and whisper, “See you soon, little one,” before handing her over.
When our fingers brush for that one, fleeting moment, it hits like a current — warm, sharp, a reminder of everything unsaid between us. She feels it too. Her eyes lift, startled, but not pulling away, like she’s trying to figure out what this means at the exact moment I figure it out.
Before either of us can say something, Nalani pipes up, cheerful as ever. “Home to unpack, Holloway.”
Claudia laughs softly. “Let’s do this.”
Nalani looks at Paul, “You have to come to dinner tonight.” She looks at me. “You’re welcome too.”
“Gonna chill after this, but thanks.”
Claudia turns back to me. “Are you sure you and Paul can handle the movers until we make it back?”
“An old man and a healing goalie?” I nod. “Dream team. Go enjoy your day.”
Paul grumbles behind me. “Old, huh?”
She smiles — the real kind — and heads off down the sidewalk with Nalani and the little one. I watch her go until they disappear. When I turn back, Paul’s already by the vehicle, and I hit the fob to unlock it. He gets in as I jog around the front and slide in.
His hand runs over the dashboard as he slides into the passenger seat. “Italian leather,” he mutters, impressed. “You traded your car?”
“Added to the collection.” I start the engine, and theLamborghini Urus hums to life, quiet and strong.
Paul chuckles, tapping the dash. “Not even gonna ask what this thing costs.”
“It was a smart choice,” I answer as I ease into traffic.
He gives me a look that sees too much. “You sure you’re not rushing this?”
I glance over. “Rushing what?”
