Zayden’s head turns toward me. “You are?”
“Maybe. I’ve been looking into it.” I haven’t told anyone this yet—not even Winnie—but it’s been bouncing around in my head for weeks. All the upheaval with Dana, the reassignment, the realization that I don’t want to spend my career at the mercyof someone else’s policies. “I could work with athletes from any sport. Set my own rules. Build something that’s actually mine.”
“Tori, that’s amazing.” He smiles, like he can envision the whole thing.
“It’s just an idea right now. I’d need funding, a business plan, a location—”
“You’ll figure it out.” He says it with complete certainty, like there’s no doubt in his mind. “You’re the most capable person I know.”
Something warm blooms in my chest. “Thanks.”
“Okay, okay.” Maisie waves her flashlight impatiently. “My turn for a secret.”
“Go ahead, little shadow.”
She’s quiet for a moment, fiddling with her dinosaur’s tail. When she looks up, her expression is serious.
“My secret is that I used to wish for a mom.”
The air goes still. Zayden tenses beside me, and I don’t dare move.
“Like, a real mom,” Maisie continues. “Not my mom, because she’s... she’s fine, but she doesn’t really do real mom stuff. So I would wish on stars and birthday candles and on pennies thrown into fountains for someone who wanted to do real mom stuff with me.”
“Maze...” Zayden’s voice is rough.
“But I stopped wishing,” she says, “because wishes are for things you don’t have yet.”
I can’t breathe. I literally cannot draw air into my lungs because I know what’s coming, and I’m not ready for it.
Maisie looks directly at me, her brown eyes—Zayden’s eyes—wide and earnest.
“I don’t have to wish anymore. Because now there’s Tori.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. My vision blurs, and I realize I’m crying—actual tears sliding down my cheeks—in the middle of a blanket fort on a Sunday morning.
“Maisie.” I have to stop, swallow, my voice breaking. I pull her to me, and she climbs into my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I just wanted you to know,” she whispers, “so you won’t leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
I look at Zayden over her head. His eyes are red-rimmed, his jaw tight with emotion. He gives me a small nod, barely perceptible.
“I promise,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m staying.”
She relaxes against me with a sigh, and I hold her tight—this little girl who wished on stars for someone to show up, who guards her heart because she’s learned the hard way that people leave, who just handed me something precious and fragile and trusted me not to break it.
Zayden’s hand finds mine under the blanket, his thumb tracing across my knuckles. When I glance at him, he’s watching us with an expression that makes my chest ache in the best way.
We stay like that for another few minutes, Maisie warm and heavy in my lap, the three of us tangled together in this ridiculous structure made of couch cushions and dreams.
Then Maisie squirms.
“It’s really hot in here.” She’s already crawling toward the exit. “I’m getting sweaty. Can we get out now?”
So much for the moment.
