Page 62 of Worth the Shot

“Since when do you give me pep talks?” she asks, smirking.

Fair question, I’m the little sister. My previous advice has been limited to things like “dump him” and “drink wine.”

“Sometimes you need one, too,” I say, pulling her into a hug.

She straightens up, steadier now, shoulders settling. Ready. I smack her butt on her way past and tell her to go get ’em, tiger. She kneels and says goodbye to Luca approximately forty-seven times, reminding him, “Mommy loves you…Mommy won’t be gone long…Mommy can’t wait to snuggle you later!” By the time she leaves, I’m convinced she’ll text me every ten minutes for updates.

“Well, little man,” I say, scooping up a block he just threw at my head, “it’s just you and Aunt Laney for the day,” I say it slowly, like I’m testing the waters.

“Aunt Nay-nee!” he repeats, proud of himself.

My heart explodes. I’ve never been “Aunt Laney,” but I’m ready now. Brennan gave me that piece of myself back, and this tiny human just sealed the deal.

We spend the morning reading books, stumbling around the outdoor playground Shayne built for his birthday, having dance parties, and snuggling on the couch. Luca’s world is small but loud, consisting mostly of sticky fingers, dinosaur roars, giggles, and constant motion. It’s exhausting, but it’s everything.

By the time lunch is done, I know Shayne’s skate is over and he’ll be barging in any second. Right on cue, the door swings open like he was launched from a cannon. Luca, who was seconds away from sleep, jolts awake and immediately starts screaming for Dada like I’ve been waterboarding him all morning.

Unreal. Traitor.

Shayne scoops him up like I’ve done something criminal.

“He was about to fall asleep and you took the damn door down!”

“Oh relax, so dramatic,” he grunts, rocking Luca. Within thirty seconds, the kid is calm and cuddled up on his chest like a baby koala. Of course. Shayne Bennett: toddler whisperer.

“Aunt Nay-nee…” Luca reaches out to me, suddenly remembering I exist, and apparently remembering I’m his favorite.

“Oh, we’re doing that now?” Shayne glares at me, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. Why not?” I shrug casually, heart pounding.

“Good.” He lifts Luca higher on his hip and smirks. “Brennan had an extra pep in his step today. Any idea why that might be?”

“Maybe he has a crush on you!” I say, eyes wide with sarcasm.

He gasps dramatically, feeding it right back to me. “Oh god, maybe I have a crush on him, too! Should I tell him?”

“I think he already knows.” My arms cross, tongue out, very mature. We’re obviously talking about me.

“Wow,” he says, pinching my cheek like I’m five. “I feel like a proud dad right now.”

“You can be so insufferable sometimes, did you know that?”

“Yes,” he says proudly. “And now I’m going to eat and nap. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Sleep well, ya menace.”

“I will!” he yells from the kitchen.

I roll my eyes and bring Luca upstairs for his nap. By the time his tiny fingers curl around my shirt and his breathing evens out, I’m drifting off right beside him. I wake up an hour later to a drool stain on the pillow and Luca’s chubby little hand gripping a fistful of my hair like he’s claiming me in his sleep. I carefully untangle myself, move him to his crib, and head downstairs to make coffee before Shayne wakes up feral and dehydrated. I pick up toys, fold blankets, pretend this house isn’t one meltdown away from being condemned when it usually looks like it belongs in catalogue, and then I collapse onto the couch and grab my phone. I dial Brennan and he picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, Laney,” he murmurs, definitely half-asleep.

A shiver dances down my spine. God, that voice. The one that’s heavy with sleep and effortlessly sexy.

“A pre-game nap for Grandpa?” I tease.

“Yeah, someone kept me up pretty late last night. Way past my bedtime.” He snickers, voice still low and scratchy.