Page 6 of Worth the Shot

After lunch with Mom, I go home to finally solve the outfit debacle from earlier. I settle on a long-sleeve black shirt tucked into my favorite pair of high-waisted jeans. It’s chilly at night now that October is only days away, so I throw on a pair of Chelsea boots and an olive-green jacket, just in case. I take a quick look in the mirror, pretending not to care. Because I don’t. Okay, maybe I do a little but I’m only human so who can blame me?

I give my long waves a little TLC and finish up with some mascara. I shoot Em a quick text to let her know I’m stopping by, then throw on some lip gloss and grab my purse as I head out the door.

By the time I pull up to Shayne and Emma’s, the fire is roaring and the barbecue is spread across their outdoor kitchen counters like a buffet. Chicken in all its forms, steak, ribs, potatoes, corn, vegetables and every kind of side salad you can imagine.

You’d think it was catered, but nope, just add “BBQ Master” to the list of hats Shayne Bennett wears. I spot him at the grill, naturally, and salute him. He salutes back and laughs.

I swim through a crowd of nine-foot hockey players and their tiny, fragile dates. Some familiar, some new, most forgettable. Especially whoever Wes Thompson decided to bring. This year, it’s a five-foot-two blonde with hair down to the small of her back. Extensions, for sure. I send a silent thanks to the hair gods for blessing me with my own long, thick locks and smile at Fake Hair Girl as I pass.

I make my way inside after countless hellos and quick conversations. Standing at the island with my sister is Miles, and I exhale with relief when he spots me.

I haven’t seen him since the season ended, due to me being as MIA as possible, but he still checks in at least once a week. He sets down his Non-Alcoholic beer, steps toward me, and pulls me into a hug that lifts me clean off the ground. I yelp like a tiny dog.

“The woman, the myth, the legend,” he says as he puts me down. He knew it’d make me laugh, and it does.

Miles is like an extension of Shayne, except he’s the opposite. Where Shayne can be guarded and tough, Miles is the soft place to land. Thoughtful, kind, always smiling. He’s been through more than most of us could handle and probably more than we could even begin to comprehend. His parents were alcoholics and he was abused most of his childhood, which is why you will never catch him drinking more than a NA beer. His stories can make grown men cry, and they have. So we listen when he wants to talk and we love him like the family he never had.

Emma pours me a glass of wine as soon as she sees me. I know it can only be one since I’m back on the trauma floor at 7 A.M. tomorrow. As I take a sip, I realize I’ve seen both Emma and Shayne, but not Luca.

“Where’s my baby?”

I scan the room and when I find Luca, and the stranger who’s holding him, my jaw drops.

“Delaney, have you met the new forward, Brennan Hale, who just signed a five-year contract?” Emma asks, smiling far too innocently.

It’s at that moment I realize that this is who we signed in lieu of Matty. Six-foot-three, short dark hair that’s longer on top and tousled perfectly, sleeves pushed up to reveal tattoos winding up his left arm, and he’s feeding my nephew. And he’s not just feeding him.

He’s making choo-choo-train noises.

This stranger is spooning green mush into Luca’s mouth, complete with sound effects, and Luca is absolutely loving it. My ovaries practically explode and suddenly my life feels like one, big obnoxious joke.

Emma and Miles both notice me staring. Not sure how because I’m being so subtle as I wipe the drool that just betrayed me. Brennan looks up, startled.

“Oh, uh—hey!” he says quickly, wiping green mush off his pants. “I’m Brennan.” He reaches out his hand. “You must be Emma’s sister. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Great. Always a good sign.

“Hopefully not too much,” I say, trying not to sound nervous as I let out a laugh. I shake his hand, and then we just…keep shaking hands for an alarmingly long time.

Perfect. Someone put me out of my misery.

I offer to clean Luca up—actually, I insist—and Brennan insists on helping, even after I say “That’s okay, I’m good” four times. Glad he follows simple directions the same as any other man.

I can’t figure out why he’s making me nervous, but I can tell I’m doing the same to him. Which makes me feel validated and a little proud.

I try to make small talk while holding Luca as Brennan wipes his hands with a wet paper towel.

“So, uh...You like babies, huh?”

What? What does that even mean, Delaney?

He laughs, and damn it, why do I want that sound on repeat? “Yeah, I guess I like babies,” he says, grinning. “I have a big family,” he adds. “Lots of babies. Four nieces and nephews of my own and I guess I just miss them, so this little guy’s keeping me company tonight.” He runs a finger down Luca’s nose, ending with a gentle tap.

Did I hear a “boop?”

God, it’s me, Delaney. I’m gonna need a little help here.

Luca giggles and reaches for him, tiny hands grasping air like he’s already decided this man is his favorite person. My heart flutters. Great. Another betrayal from my own body.