Maddie.
Of course.
Not me.
Not the lingering, stupid, unspoken thing that has hung between us since that end-of-season party two years ago when he’d leaned in too close on the balcony and I’d frozen like I didn’t know what to do with a man who smelled like clean soap, hockey sweat and trouble.
Not the fact that Mason’s sister should never be alone in a room with his teammate.
Not the way Gabriel’s gaze drops to my mouth sometimes like it’s a bad habit.
Maddie is the only thing that can make him show up at my door like this.
“What happened?” I ask.
He swallows. His throat works like the words hurt going down.
“Nothing happened to her,” he says quickly, and I hate myself for the relief that floods me. “She’s fine. She’s… she’s asleep at home. With Jenna. She’s good. But...”
“But what?”
He exhales hard, like the air is too thick.
“My ex,” he says.
That explains everything.
“She moved to L.A. when Maddie was two,” he says. “Chasing acting jobs. I stayed. Court gave me primary.”
I nod once. Clean. Simple.
“And now?” I ask.
“Now she says she’s ‘settled.’ Steady work. Same city. Same place.” His jaw tightens. “She thinks Maddie would love growing up in California.”
“And she wants custody.”
“She says she’s ready to be a full-time mom.” His laugh is sharp. “After all these years.”
My spine stiffens.
“And you said no.”
“I said absolutely not.” His eyes flash. “She doesn’t get to decide she’s a mother on a whim. And now she’s threatening to file.”
“Then this is just a threat.”
His mouth tightens. “And, Jenna’s leaving.”
My stomach drops. “You're losing your nanny?”
“Yup. Leaving in a few weeks,” he says. “Her mom had a stroke. She’s moving back to Ohio to help her family.”
That shifts everything.
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“I just found out,” he says. “Two days ago.”
