Page 45 of Worth the Shot

“It’s small. Silly even. I don’t know if you’ll like it but⁠—”

I cut her off gently. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

She hands me a dark red gift bag tied with a gold bow and I give her the one I brought too, but she waves it off and insists I open hers first. I untie the bow, peel back the tissue paper carefully, not wanting to ruin the effort she clearly put into it. When I pull out the flannel, heat rushes to my face.

“Do you like it?” she asks, sounding unsure but hopeful. “I guess I still owed you one and when I saw it I⁠—“

“I love it,” I say honestly, already unbuttoning it. “Thank you.”

She blinks hard. “You’re putting it on?”

“Duh,” I tease, taking off my sweater and sliding it on over the T-shirt underneath. “Feels like it was made for me. Way better than the other one. Although, this one is missing a wine stain but I’m sure we can take care of that at some point.” I wink at her and notice her cheeks flush. I try not to think about what that means, what it does to my heart.

She lets out a small, unguarded laugh and does this quick, barely-contained bounce before she catches herself—like she forgot to play it cool for a second. She clears her throat, straightening, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen it. And it’s so damn cute, I know instantly I made the right call.

Before I can tell her to open mine, her eyes catch on the white dessert box behind me.

“Crap,” she mutters, grabbing the box. “I guess I forgot to put these out.”

“Oh—no, those are for you. I, uh…made them.” I rub the back of my neck like an idiot.

She opens the box and then freezes, her body completely still like something in her brain just short-circuited.

“Laney?” I ask quietly. Her face is blank, unreadable, and my stomach drops. Suddenly this feels like a bad idea. Silly, even. I rush to explain it. “I’m not a big baker,” I blurt out, “but every year, my family makes these. Usually we decorate them, but I didn’t have time and then⁠—”

“No.” She shakes her head sharply. “Not possible.”

“What…isn’t possible?”

She lets out a shaky breath, and suddenly her eyes are glassy. “Brennan…I…I’m sorry. I just need a minute.”

I step closer cautiously, and when she doesn’t back away, my body relaxes just slightly. Something is clearly happening here and I don’t want to misstep. I glance into the box to double check—just gingerbread cookies. Nothing special. Nothing alarming. What the hell is going on?

She inhales deeply and finally says, voice small but steady, “My dad. Every year, after dinner on Christmas, he would bring out four homemade gingerbread cookies. One for each of us. Decorated specifically for us.” She stares at the cookies like they just opened a door to her past. Like she’s trying to remember it all in detail, and if she looks away she might lose it.

Shit. I messed up again. Accidentally stepping on pieces of her heart I had no business touching.

“Delaney, I’m so sorry. I swear I never want to cross lines like that with you. I had no idea.”

“No,” she says immediately, shaking her head. “No, Brennan. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…shocked. It feels like he’s here. For the first time in twelve years, I’m not sad. Well, I’m sad he’s not here, but I don’t feel…empty. Like he left me this little piece of him to find when I was finally ready for it. Does that make sense?” I can tell she’s holding back tears.

“It does,” I say quietly. And it really does. More than she knows. I want to hug her so badly it physically hurts. Like my body is screaming to hold her.

So I do.

I reach out slowly, easing the box from her hands and setting it down on the counter behind her, my gaze heavy, never leaving hers. She watches every move I make like she’s trying to read my next one, or even my heart.

I touch her arm first. Just a light graze, a question. She doesn’t pull away.

Then I guide her closer.

And closer.

Until we close in on each other, no going back now. Her arms slide around my waist like she’s been waiting for this moment without admitting it. I wrap mine around her, pull her into my chest, her cheek pressed against me. I’m fully aware she can hear my heartbeat pounding like a goddamn drum.

She holds on tighter when I do, and the hug lasts longer than I thought she’d allow. Long enough for me to memorize the shape of her against me. Long enough to know I’ll never forget it.

At some point, her breathing evens out against my chest. It’s deliberate and steady like maybe, for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel the need to brace for impact. My chin rests lightly on the top of her head, her hair soft against my jaw, and I don’t move. I don’t even think I could if I wanted to. Her fingers curl into the fabric of the flannel she just gave me and I close my eyes for a second and just…let myself feel it. Her. The warmth. The way she fits right into the space she’s taken over in my chest without even trying.