Page 12 of Worth the Shot

Matthew Morris: the goalie who left both his team and the girl everyone swears he didn’t deserve. And after finally meeting her, now I know he didn’t. You can’t really prepare yourself to walk into that kind of shadow, but then she smiled, just once. It hit like a sucker punch and for a second, I forgot why I was even standing there. I don’t think anyone has ever held that kind of power over me.

Now the morning light’s cutting across the kitchen, turning everything soft and gold. Emma’s got an acoustic playlist going somewhere upstairs and the whole house feels like something you’d find under the definition of peace in the dictionary.

I should get up, grab my keys, and head to practice, but instead I just sit there, trying to ignore the part of me that already wants to see her again. It’s too soon and I know that. She’s probably not ready for anything, serious or not. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m ready. Still, I can’t stop replaying the way her smile lingered in those green eyes, or how one small dimple appears on her right cheek when she laughs.

There’s just something about her that feels like gravity. The kind you don’t fight because it’s already won. I drag my hands down my face and tell myself to get it together. You can’t fall in love with a girl after two hours with her, right?

Thankfully, Emma comes downstairs and mentions coffee, and suddenly I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved. She hands me a cup to go and I thank her for the couch, the caffeine, and for hosting a killer party before I head to the rink.

Morning practices are usually my favorite. The sun’s just coming up, the ice is fresh and untouched, and the chill in the rink sends a jolt through my body like a reset button. A cup of coffee and I’m usually good to go, but at twenty-nine, those beers from the night before don’t hit the same way they did at twenty-one. My head’s foggy, my legs feel like concrete, and I’m hurting, for sure. Glad I got here early to do some laps.

After some time, I scan the rink, spotting Shayne on the bench, re-taping his stick. I skate over, silently begging myself not to spill Delaney’s name out of my mouth like projectile vomit. At least not right away. “You ran out early this morning,” he says without breaking his concentration.

“Yeah,” I let out an easy laugh, “I wanted to get out here and get my bearings before everyone got here. Thanks again for the temporary digs.”

“No problem, man. You’re welcome anytime,” he says, tapping his newly taped stick against the boards. “Pretty sure Luca found his new best friend. Looks like you’re stuck with us.”

He smiles and starts to push off toward the ice, but I catch him before he goes.

“Hey, so, I was just wondering⁠—”

Before I can finish, he cuts me off without even looking up. He laughs like he was waiting for this—for me to break. I feel like I’m in middle school again trying to dig up crucial information on my crush.

“She’s a tough one to crack,” he says. “Especially these days. Just be patient with her. She’s worth it.”

Before I can reply, he’s already gliding onto the ice. He turns, skating backward, and points at me with his stick.

“I like you, Hale. I think you’re a solid dude with good intentions. Hell of a hockey player.”

I grin and shake my head. Coming from Shayne, that really means something. He’s not the type to hand out compliments he doesn’t believe.

His expression turns serious for half a second. “Delaney’s family.”

Those words land heavier than I expect.

“She’s been through enough already, so if you plan on screwing this up, at least give me a heads-up. Gives me time to work on my alibi.” Then he grins. “Just…don’t prove me wrong.”

No pressure. I laugh under my breath, then tighten my gloves and skate out after him. Slow and steady wins the race.

Chapter Six

Delaney

I’m not avoiding my feelings. I’m just…rerouting. Like if your GPS offered a “scenic detour to avoid heavy emotional congestion.” My scenic detour happens to be Shayne and Emma’s kitchen, where my nephew shrieks at a pitch that could shatter a windshield the moment he sees me. Honestly, I’d commit tax fraud for that kid.

I barely get the door open before Luca spots me from his high chair and loses his mind, as usual. He’s kicking, flapping, squealing and the sight of it alone reminds me that I’m his favorite person in the universe. Same, buddy. Same.

“My favorite boy!” I coo, dropping my bag and going straight to him. He’s covered in applesauce and approximately twelve Cheerio crumbs and I don’t even care. That’s love.

Emma rounds the corner holding her coffee. “He’s been cranky all morning. Glad to see his emotional support aunt has arrived.”

I smirk. “Yeah, well. He’s needy and dramatic. Wonder where he gets that from.”

She flips me off, we proceed as normal. The typical sisterly bond.

Emma and I have always been close. Since the day I was born, she jumped right into being my overprotective big sister who doted on me every chance she got.

Then I got old enough to make it difficult.