Page 13 of Worth the Shot

I stole her clothes, hijacked her hangouts with friends—and Shayne, especially—and treated every argument like a competitive sport I refused to lose.

When I had a bad day, Emma always knew what I needed. Space. Since we lost Dad, I haven’t been a big fan of talking about my feelings. A trait everyone around me has found deeply inconvenient. But Emma learned a long time ago that if she gives me room to breathe, I always come back when I’m ready. And when I do, she’s there like she never doubted it for a second.

I’m halfway through wiping mush off Luca’s face when I hear footsteps behind me. They’re heavy, deliberate and familiar in a way they absolutely shouldn’t be.

I don’t turn around.

Not yet.

I know who it is. I saw his car outside and that “scenic detour” was rerouted faster than whip-lash. Or maybe, just maybe, it was never going to happen in the first place. Why, you ask? Well, I knew that morning skate had just ended, and I may have overheard Shayne the other night, inviting him over for Emma’s famous breakfast after practice this week.

Why did I decide it’d be a good idea to expose myself to a man that has taken up way too much space in my brain that’s been barricaded and blocked off to men specifically of his kind?

Well, that one, I cannot answer.

“Morning,” Brennan says, voice annoyingly warm like sunshine or maple syrup. The kind of tone that makes you want to tell the truth. Disgusting.

I press a kiss to Luca’s forehead before turning around slowly, casually. So casual in a way that should absolutely win an award because right now, it feels like an Olympic sport.

He’s leaning against the counter, hair still damp from a shower, wearing a T-shirt that does absolutely nothing helpful for my mental stability.

I nod. “Hey.”

Smooth. Someone give me a medal.

He smiles and I’m suddenly extremely aware of my pulse. “Are you joining in on the pancake chaos too?”

“I’m here for Luca,” I say, way too quickly.

Emma raises a brow because she is a traitor.

“Got it,” he says, lips twitching. “Just Luca.”

I fold the baby wipe in half with laser focus. “Yep. Just Luca.”

Emma cough-laughs into her coffee. Shayne chooses that moment to walk in from the garage, and I make it a point not to make eye contact with him.

He scans the room and takes in me, then Brennan, and smirks. Asshole. “Brennan, you still good to give me a lift to the game later?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Brennan replies, eyes still on me. “I’m good for whatever.”

Okay. Nope. Absolutely not. The kitchen is suddenly too full of male energy. I need air. A mountain. A monastery. I clear my throat.

“Well, I should get going. I have…things. Nurse things. Important medical things.”

“Right,” Brennan says, trying not to laugh. “Critical nurse things. Very urgent.”

I purse my lips. “Exactly.” I reach for my bag, except Luca grabs my shirt in both tiny fists like his life depends on it.

“A betrayal,” I whisper to him. “You wound me.”

He giggles, like he knows. I lift him, kiss his hair, and definitely do not make eye contact with The Man Leaning By The Counter Like A Romantic Comedy Cameo.

“Bye, everyone,” I say, putting Luca back in his chair.

“Bye, Laney,” Brennan answers, and I freeze.

Nobody calls me that.