Page 58 of Pucking Daddy

“Yes.”

A beat passes.

Then another.

“Actually, tomorrow’s media day,” I add, because there’s no easy way to soften this. “If you’re still considering it… it would help if you came to the game. Maybe without Lily this first time. Just to show presence.”

Zara exhales slowly.

“Right,” she says.

But she doesn’t sound convinced.

Shit.

I push a hand through my hair, already feeling like I’ve overplayed my hand. “Look, I know that’s a lot. I just—”

“Stop,” she says quietly.

I stop.

“This is complicated. Messy. Completely outside anything I ever planned for my life.”

“I know.”

“And the media thing?” She huffs out a small, humorless laugh. “I hate that part. I really hate that part.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I figured.”

Her gaze lifts to mine. And then it stays there. Long enough that something in my chest starts to tighten.

“But,” she adds.

One word.

Everything in me locks onto it.

“But,” she repeats, slower now, like she’s testing it. “There’s also a six-year-old girl in the middle of all of this.”

My throat goes dry.

“And she deserves stability,” Zara continues. “She deserves someone who shows up. Someone who doesn’t cancel on her or make promises they don’t keep.”

I don’t interrupt.

“And you,” she says, softer now, “are already doing everything you can to give her that.”

Something in my chest pulls tight.

Zara’s voice steadies. “I see that. I saw it yesterday. I saw it today. I see it every day.”

Her words ring honest and true.

“So,” she says, drawing in a breath, like she’s about to jump off something high and irreversible, “if the question is whether I’d help you create that stability—”

My pulse pounds.

“I will.”