I nod too. “Exactly…cookies.”
Dinner is loud and messy—Knox telling a story about his new sophomore player at the high school, Brynn trying to keep Evie from swinging a breadstick like a sword, Kinsey offering to open a bottle of wine “for morale,” and Kate sitting beside me, quiet but glowing in the warmth of it all.
She’s been through hell this week, but here, surrounded by people who love her, she looks a little less breakable.
Dinner winds down with half-finished drinks and smeared napkins. Kinsey and Evie migrate to the living room with a coloring book, and Kate drops to the rug beside them without hesitation. She peels crayon wrappers while Evie insists every horse should be purple. Kate doesn’t correct her—she listens, indulges, and there’s something so soft about the way she lets Evie create her vision.
Brynn starts clearing plates, and I automatically stand to help.
“Are you always this helpful?” she asks, amused.
“Coach instincts,” I tell her. “Idle hands make me twitchy.”
We fall into a rhythm—she rinses, I towel and shelve—and after a quiet stretch she speaks again, eyes flicking my direction.
“You’ve been more reserved tonight.”
“Just relaxing, taking it all in,” I say.
She doesn’t buy it, and she doesn’t try to hide it. “You mean keeping an eye on Kate?”
I huff out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Not holding back tonight, huh, Dalton?”
“Not even a little.” She nudges me with her elbow. “She told me about the custody situation. It’s ugly.”
“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair. “Thanks for getting her the info for that lawyer. I feel like she’s just trying to hold it together. It’s such a shitty situation. She’s done everything right, and he still gets to waltz back in with a nice house and a new wife like that erases five years of absence.”
Brynn’s voice gentles. “Thank you for being there for her.”
“I’ll always be there for her,” I say quietly.
Brynn’s hands pause in the water as she turns toward me. “Does she know you’re falling for her?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think she wants to know.”
“Or maybe she’s just scared,” Brynn says. “Kate’s spent years doing everything on her own. When you live in survival mode that long, love feels like another thing you can lose.”
I nod, putting a plate in the cabinet.
“Cam,” she continues, “whatever you do, don’t back off. She needs someone consistent more than she needs someone who’s perfect. And you”she smiles faintly—“you’ve got consistency handled.”
I look toward the living room. Evie is on her stomach, coloring like it’s a competitive sport. Kinsey doodles mustaches over the horse illustrations. Kate sits beside them, hair falling forward as she focuses, unaware of how completely she holds the room without trying.
Brynn nudges me with her elbow. “You’re staring, Coach.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Nope,” she says with a grin. “Just…don’t run from it.”
“I don’t run,” I tell her.
“Good,” she says, rinsing the last dish. “Because that woman in there? She deserves someone who is ready to be strong and consistent.”
My throat feels tight when I answer. “Yeah. She does.”
“Coach Wells!” Evie calls, brandishing her latest masterpiece. “Look! It’s you!”
The stick figure she’s drawn has shoulders the width of a doorway and a baseball cap floating above its head.
