“Is she okay?”
“Bad dream about a dinosaur eating her homework.” He slides back into bed, pulling me against him. “I told her dinosaurs are extinct and also don’t care about first-grade math.”
“Solid parenting.”
“I try.” He settles back against the pillows with a sigh. “Sorry about that. Not exactly the romantic ending I had planned.”
“Are you kidding? That was perfect.”
He looks down at me, confused. “How is my kid almost walking in on us perfect?”
“Because it’s real.” I prop myself up on my elbow. “It’s you—your life, your daughter, all of it. I don’t want some sanitized version that pretends complicated things don’t exist. I want this—the messy, interrupted, real thing.”
He stares at me for a long moment, something shifting in his expression.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just...” He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m falling hard for you. You know that, right?”
My heart does something complicated in my chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pulls me down for a kiss—soft this time, tender. “Stay tonight?”
“What about Maisie?”
“Well… we could sneak you out in the morning.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips. “But I think she’d be happy to see you again.”
I settle against his chest, letting my eyes drift closed. “Okay.”
His arm wraps around me, warm and solid and safe, and I fall asleep listening to his heartbeat.
And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I’m not scared of what comes next.
I’m excited for it.
31
CALLED OUT
Zayden
I’m in the best mood I’ve been in for months.
Maybe years.
The locker room smells the same as always—sweat and industrial soap and the sharp bite of menthol from someone’s muscle rub—but even that can’t drag me down today. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting their usual unflattering glow, and the tile floors are cold under my bare feet as I pad toward my stall.
None of it matters. I woke up this morning thinking of Tori, and I haven’t stopped smiling since.
Apparently, it shows.
“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Logan drops onto the bench next to me, already half-dressed for practice. “You’re smiling. It’s freaking me out.” He’s got a protein bar hanging out of his mouth and his practice jersey on inside out—classic Logan—but his eyes are sharp as he studies me. The kid misses nothing when it comes to team dynamics. It’s annoying as hell.
“I smile.”
“You don’t smile. You brood. You glare. You occasionally smirk when you score a goal.” He squints at me. “This isdifferent. This is like... happy smiling. It’s unnatural.” He narrows his eyes.
“Maybe I’m just having a good day.”
