Page 76 of Worth the Shot

I never thought I wanted kids. At least not in any way that felt like certainty. I always assumed being the fun aunt would be enough because loving someone else’s baby was safer, easier and a lot less risky.

But right now?

It feels like the last few puzzle pieces finally locking together, and I realize something I didn’t let myself consider until this exact moment: When this puzzle is finished, the picture doesn’t look like me and Matt in some glossy penthouse overlooking the ocean. Not the sleek modern furniture, the perfect recessed lighting, the art on the walls that looks expensive but means nothing. Not the version of life that looked beautiful on the outside but always felt hollow and too big on the inside.

No.

It looks like something else entirely.

It looks like me and Brennan. A little house not too far from Emma and Shayne. A big fenced-in backyard. Kids laughing, running and tripping over each other. A living room that feels cozy and lived in, with a couch that’s too soft, pillows always half on the floor. A fireplace crackling on cold nights, and movie marathons piled under blankets that smell like home. Like him. It looks like something real and worth waiting for. Something that feels like belonging.

Brennan glances over at me, catching me staring, and his mouth curves into a smile that’s only meant for me. His eyes soften in a different way than they did when he was looking at Luca, and it makes my body break out in the most intense goosebumps I've ever had.

Then, Luca crashes his mouth into the side of Brennan’s face, all wet and baby slobber, and Brennan laughs, lifting him higher onto his hip. snuggling him in closer.

God help me.

I walk over to them and I kiss Luca’s nose, then Brennan’s cheek, and it hits me—clarity isn’t found in some dramatic moment. It’s in the quiet, simple moments just like this. Something small and ordinary that suddenly makes you realize the exact moment your life, the one you didn’t even know you were waiting for, is finally coming into focus. And it’s even better than you could have imagined.

The kitchen is loud again. Frosting smudges on the counters, cupcakes everywhere, Jo already halfway through opening one of Luca’s new toys she probably should not be trusted with.

Chaos. Perfect, familiar chaos and somehow Brennan looks entirely too comfortable right in the middle of it.

Despite the shattered cupcake tower and the growing pile of wrapping paper about to explode across the room, everything feels exactly the way it’s supposed to. Just then, Mom and Rick walk in and I realize, this is it. Everyone in this room is all I’ll ever need and I am the luckiest girl in the world.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Brennan

After being on a long, drawn out West coast trip the last week, tonight’s the first home game in a while and I’m so ready. I arrive to the arena early, in my best suit. The olive green one with a subtle, windowpane check that Delaney once said landed somewhere between athlete and runway. Untouchable. That’s exactly how I feel tonight, because everything I’ve been dreaming of is right in front of me. This city, this team, the buzzing arena full of fans that never disappoint, and her. The one thing that silences everything else in my world, slows it down. Makes me appreciate it all just a little harder.

The parking lot is busy tonight. More than usual, anyway. The photographer who usually takes Game Day Arrival pictures is nowhere to be found, security is all over the place talking into radios and half the media pack is clustered near the entrance. I slow a step, taking a sip of my coffee as I take it in for half a second. I’m not sure what the hell is going on, but it’s big enough to be taking priority over everything else.

“Yo!” someone calls behind me, and I turn to see Wes, trying to catch up to me. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” I say, easily.

He stops short, like he can’t decide if he wants to be the one to say it. Then he lowers his voice anyway. “Trade’s about to drop.”

For a second I just stare at him, my pulse shouting through my ears. Trades always come this time of year, when everyone is trying to make the most out of the playoffs that are approaching. But hearing it out loud hits different. Nobody is safe. Not when you’re playing well, not when you’re playing like shit, and especially not when the front office decides they need fresh blood for a playoff push. This is why guys fight for no-trade clauses. For stability, for their families, for the life they’re trying to build.

For the girl they want to build it with.

Delaney flashes through my mind so fast it knocks the air out of me. A house. A dog. A future that doesn’t involve packing my shit overnight and moving across the damn country.

Jesus, breathe, Brennan.

It doesn’t have to be me. It could be prospects or draft picks. It could be no one. I must zone out longer than I thought because Wes shoves me.

“You with me?”

“Oh—yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about my slapshot earlier.”

Smooth save, Halesy. Real smooth.

“A trade? Can’t think of anything we’re lacking right now.” I push past the media and into the building like I can’t make it to the locker room fast enough.

“I dunno, man,” he says, pushing his hand through his hair, grabbing the towel from his stall. “Just hoping they don’t break up the Four Musketeers. You, Benny, and Smiles have basically become my emotional support animals.”