Page 27 of Worth the Shot

Miss me yet?

I fight my smile and barely win. The last thing I need is to feed Emma’s conspiracy theories.

Me

Like a rash I can’t get rid of.

Brennan

Ouch. You should probably get that checked out. Definitely can’t have you spreading it all over my favorite blanket during trash TV this week.

And there it is again—the grin I can’t control. I tuck my phone back into my bag and let the tiny spark of happiness settle somewhere deep.

Right on cue, Shayne pulls up with Luca in tow. I practically sprint to the car, boxing out Emma like it’s the playoffs and I’m screening the goalie. The second the door opens, Luca and I both squeal. I unbuckle him and take in those chubby cheeks poking out from under his winter hat. His little sweatsuit is soft and puffy, but still no match for the ripe twenty-two degrees it currently is.

I pull him out and grab the winter jacket from the seat next to him. I zip it up as far as it goes, his cheeks going rosy as soon as the cold hits. I pull him close and breathe him in, that perfect baby smell that’s equal parts sweet, warm, and fleeting.

He’ll be a year old in January, and my heart twists thinking about how fast it’s going. One day soon he’ll be too cool to hold my hand or nap with me on the couch, but for now, he’s mine. My perfect, giggling boy.

Shayne closes the car door, stretching like he’s about to hit the ice. “You two done sprinting for the car? Pretty sure Delaney checked me into the door frame.”

“Gotta keep your reflexes sharp,” I shoot back.

Emma laughs, looping her arm through his. “You’d think after years of being around hockey players she’d have learned to play nice.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I say, kissing Luca’s cheek until he giggles.

Mom comes out of the store, juggling two shopping bags and (probably) a peppermint mocha. Her guilty pleasure. “I swear, I can’t take you girls anywhere,” she says, but she’s smiling, eyes soft on all of us.

It hits me then, this picture-perfect chaos. Shayne is teasing Emma, Mom’s fussing over a scarf that doesn’t match her coat, Luca babbles like he’s part of the conversation, and for a second, it’s like all the noise in my head quiets.

We grab lunch at the little diner across the street. It’s small and nostalgic and always smells like coffee and pancakes no matter what time of day it is. Shayne orders enough food for a small army, Emma steals half his fries, and Mom insists we get a piece of pie “for the table,” which somehow means everyone gets their own slice. Luca throws a Cheerio at me, grinning like he’s accomplished something heroic and I pretend to be offended.

“Wow, rude. Aunt Delaney feeds you, loves you, and this is how you repay her?” He claps his hands and giggles, absolutely thrilled with himself.

“Careful,” Shayne warns, “he’s got my aim.”

“God help us all,” I mutter.

We linger long after the plates are cleared, trading stories, laughing way too loud, and it’s one of those afternoons that doesn’t need to be special to be perfect. It just is.

As we step back out into the cold, snowflakes start drifting down, soft and slow, the kind that stick to your eyelashes and melt before you can catch them. Emma tucks herself into Shayne’s side, no doubt for warmth, but mostly in the way that people just crave that touch, the embrace, from someone you love who loves you back. It’s small and casual but everything at the same time. Mom slides her arm through mine and I lean into her, our heads gently bumping.

I breathe it all in. I get it now. Life—these moments—are fleeting. Happiness is always right under your nose when you learn to appreciate the little things. And lately, I’m starting to realize it shows up in places I never expected.

Chapter Twelve

Brennan

Being back home with my family, even if it’s only for a day and a half, feels healing. The holidays have always meant everything to me, and spending them with the people I care about most is something I’ll never take for granted. That’s exactly why I made the trip for Thanksgiving, even if I missed ours back in October.

Mom decided to host an American Thanksgiving, since she’s from the States herself and knew I wouldn’t be able to make it home for Christmas. It sucks, no doubt about that, but when you play in the NHL, sacrifices come with the territory. So I take it all in while it’s right in front of me.

Mom’s putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree, Dad’s hauling the rest of the decor bins down from the attic, and both my sisters are here with their families which means quality time with my nieces and nephews too. It’s almost peak happiness. Almost. Something’s missing, and I know exactly what it is.

I pull out my phone to text Delaney, dying to know if she’s missing me too. Her reply shows up a minute later and it’s short, sarcastic, and classic Delaney. It makes me grin, because beneath every sharp little jab, I can feel her letting me in. Little by little, the walls she wears so well are starting to crack, whether she realizes it or not. I’ll wait as long as it takes for the rest of them to fall.

“Daydreaming again? You look like a lovesick puppy.” My younger sister, Lyla, rolls her eyes and snatches the phone from my hand. She’s the baby of the family and definitely the bossiest. “What’s her name?”