“What?” I feigned innocence, pressing a hand to my chest. “You’remarried, remember?” I said mockingly, a knowing smile on my lips. “And I’m an old geezer who barely leaves the rink. What trouble could we possibly get into?”
Her brow ticked up like she knew the answer but wouldn’t dare say it out loud.
“Come on. Let me show you around your new home.”
Ariana’s thoughts were unreadable as her eyes flicked between mine, but I noted that tinge of pink in her cheeks, the way her hands twisted together in front of her lap.
“It’s one afternoon, Ari. As friends.”
Her expression told me she didn’t believe that.
I didn’t believe it either.
She crossed her arms, uncrossed them, clasped her hands at her waist. “Shane…”
I stepped just a little closer — not enough to touch her, but enough to feel the gravity of her. “There are no practices Sunday. The guys have the day off. Your husband is traveling. And I’m not asking for anything except… a day. A little sunlight. A break.”
Her eyes flicked down my chest, back up to my face. A tell. A warning.
Her silence stretched, and my heartbeat pounded so loud I could barely hear the conversations around us.
Say yes, I found myself pleading like an idiot.
Please. Just let me have one day.
Finally, quietly — like the word escaped before she could stop it — she whispered, “Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeated, trying and failing not to grin like a lucky bastard who’d won the lottery. “Sunday.”
“Sunday.”
Wordlessly, I extended my hand for her phone. Ariana hesitated only a moment before retrieving it, and I typed my number in quickly, texting myself so I’d have her number, too, before I handed the phone back.
Nathan swept into the room then, and for the first time since he’d arrived in Tampa, I found my handshakes and smiles genuine as we chatted about the game. It didn’t matter that he had my hackles raised, that I still didn’t trust him — I couldn’t help but beam.
Because he was leaving.
And I was ready to make the most of his absence.
Never Love Again
Shane
2008
On the last Friday of May, 2008, the courthouse doors closed on the sound of the gavel and our whole world shifted.
Ariana sat stiff beside me through the hearing, her eyes glazed, her hands folded tightly in her lap. My grandparents had flown in to watch Georgie and help us figure out our next steps. But when Ari wasn’t around, they were just more voices of reason that I didn’t want to hear.
That courtroom felt more like a prison to me, like I was the criminal instead of Jay. Ariana and I were both barely hanging onto reality, but the judge’s words cut through the haze like sharp shards of ice:
“Guardianship extended, but provisional. Subject to review in six months.”
“Any instability—financial, academic, or residential—could affect your petition.”
“Remember, the child’s father retains standing.”
It was clinical and felt heartless, like we were just paperwork to the court when it was our whole existence being shaken.
