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CHAPTER ONE

ALL I’VE GOT

PENN

July

The bell over the door chimes as I step into Luminary Coffeehouse, the familiar hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine welcoming me like a massive heated blanket. Clara stands behind the counter, grinning with her eyebrows raised, waiting for me to bust a move.

“Don’t think you’re getting coffee without dancing, Penn.”

I groan. Normally, I’d play along. Hell, I was here the day she started this whole dancing-for-coffee tradition, and I’d like to think I’ve displayed some of my best moves right here on this coffee shop floor. But today, my feet feel like lead, and my mood isn’t much lighter.

“Half a dance, Clara,” I say. “That’s all I’ve got in me today.”

“Half a dance?” she repeats, feigning shock. “Who are you, and what have you done with Penn Hudson?”

I shuffle halfheartedly to some pop song playing over the speakers. It’s more of a tragic sway, but Clara smiles at me sympathetically and hands me my caramel macchiato.

“Here’s a sweet to sweeten your day,” she says.

“Thanks, Clara. You’re the best.”

The low rumble of Marv and Walter’s bickering back and forth as I walk past their table makes me pause. They’re mid-rant, per usual—the two old men are here every time I set foot in Luminary, and I can always count on them to be arguing.

“And another thing,” Marv says, his voice sharp. “You can’t call it a tackle if the guy practically hugs him first. It’s football, not a slow dance!”

Walter shakes his head. “Back in my day, we didn’t even have these cushy helmets. We played with grit! Not like these wimps who need a commercial break every five minutes.”

I smirk as I approach, but before I can pass, Marv’s eyes lock onto me. “Well, look who it is. We saw some footage of you guys at training camp on the news last night. You care to explain why everyone’s forgotten how to tackle?”

Walter jumps in before I can reply. “Or why they’re tripping on their shoelaces out there? Are you clowns gonna be ready when the season starts?”

I chuckle, pausing at their table. I don’t bother to correct them. Training camp hasn’t officially started, but our workouts have increased and the news team came out while we were messing around yesterday.

“Good morning to you too, gentlemen. I assure you, we will be more than ready when the time comes.”

Marv snorts, pointing a gnarled finger at me. “You better be. We want you back in the Super Bowl this year.”

“I want that too, trust me.”

“Do it while you’ve got knees that still work, Penn,” Walter says, leaning back in his chair.

“ My knees still work,” Marv says. “Maybe not out on a football field anymore, but these knees smoked you at bowling last week.” He points at Walter, who’s shaking his head and waving him off.

“Bowling doesn’t count,” Walter mutters.

I tap the table and point at Walter. “Bowling totally counts, and I’ll take your words under advisement. Super Bowl, while the knees work, no hugging tackles,” I tick off the list.

I think I might see a crack of a smile from Marv as I head back to our private room, where the guys are already waiting.

My best friends and teammates. The Single Dad Players.

I’ve given them so much crap for calling themselves that.

Rhodes, Henley, and Bowie were single dads who started getting together to talk about their kids and fatherhood, and Weston and I looked up to them so much that we started showing up at their little meetings.

I’m happy to be playing the field…in all the ways. But it’s starting to feel strange to be the odd man out. The only non-dad. The only single one. Once upon a time, we were in the same boat together. Now they’ve all gone and gotten themselves hitched and procreated.

Henley’s the veteran of the group, balancing his podcast and his job as a football commentator with fatherhood like some kind of superhero. He has four daughters now—three from his first marriage…Cassidy, Audrey, and Gracie—and a new baby girl, Avery, with Tru, the love of his life.

Weston has Caleb, his mini-me, and he’s so far gone over Sadie, it’s almost comical. The man glows when she walks into the room. It’s sickeningly sweet, but I can’t give him too much grief for it because they’re actually perfect together.

Rhodes has the funniest little dude, Levi, and he finally wised up and married Elle, his best friend.

Let’s face it, she’s the only person who could put up with him long term.

We all saw the writing on the wall and knew they were meant to be together, but it took them a hell of a long time to get there.

It’s only a matter of time before they announce a baby’s on the way, I just know it.

And then there’s Bowie. My last hope. The one I thought would hold the line with me in singledom forever.

But nope. Bowie’s daughter Becca is almost ten and I think she knew before anyone that Poppy and Bowie should be together.

Now Bowie and Poppy have a seven-month-old son, Jonas.

And in case that wasn’t a shocker enough, Poppy’s pregnant again .

The guy who never dated anyone is now a walking diaper commercial.

It’s like some cosmic joke. I’ve been thinking there’s something in the water, but now? I’m convinced it’s the coffee. Whatever Clara’s brewing in this place, it’s turning these guys into Hallmark movie dads…with filthier mouths, of course.

When I open the door to the smaller room at the back of Luminary, they’re deep in conversation, but the moment I walk in, their attention shifts to me.

“What’s up with the sad vibes?” Henley asks when I sit down. “You’re usually the one bringing the energy.”

When I don’t say anything right away, Weston’s eyes narrow. “You’ve been off for months. What’s going on, Penn? Spill.”

I hesitate, staring into my coffee. The truth is, I haven’t brought it up lately because I feel like a hypocrite. I’ve spent years teasing them about being lovesick fools, and now here I am—moody, distracted, and hung up on a girl I kissed…months ago.

It’s absolutely ridiculous is what it is.

“Penn,” Rhodes says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Fess up.”

“Okay, fine.” I sigh. “You want the truth?”

“Always,” Bowie says.

“I can’t stop thinking about that girl.” I’ve already told them about her, but I definitely downplayed what I felt.

“In the Bahamas, the night before Bowie and Poppy’s wedding…

” I look around the table and they all lean in, clearly intrigued.

“I met Addy,” I admit. “We talked. It was easy and fun. She was beautiful and hilarious and so fucking charming. We kissed, and…it was…I can’t stop thinking about her. ”

Weston’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re still hung up on that girl? And you didn’t tell us sooner because…?”

“Because I felt so stupid,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve given all of you so much grief, and here I am, wrecked over a girl I’ll never see again. And why her? Why the hell can I not forget her?”

Rhodes smirks. “So the pretty boy’s got a heart after all.”

If they only knew. It was embarrassing how hard I looked for her that night.

Begged the front desk to let me know who she was, looked at the bar and the beach and the pool and the restaurant…

and then finally, I came to terms with the fact that she’d left my room… on purpose …and she hadn’t come back.

“Very funny,” I mutter. “We had this connection…I thought. And then…she left. We were about to…well, I don’t know how far it would’ve gone, but I left to help Poppy’s friends…

” I nod at Rhodes and he winces. “And when I got back, she was gone. Just disappeared.” I sag against my chair.

“I think I’ve lost my touch. Definitely lost my mojo. ”

The guys laugh, thinking I’m joking, because 99.9% of the time, I am joking. The table goes quiet, the guys exchanging glances before Henley says, “You? Lose your mojo? Not possible.”

“I’m actually getting tired of the clubbing scene,” I add.

They stare at me like they don’t recognize me. Hell, I don’t recognize myself.

Henley gives me a shit-eating grin. “It had to happen at some point.” He pounds my back.

I roll my eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Oh, we’re gonna have the best time with this,” Rhodes says. His smirk is at an all-time high.

“Maybe she had a reason for not showing,” Bowie says.

“Yeah, something out of her control,” Weston adds.

“Or maybe she just wasn’t as into me as I thought,” I say, the words hurting as much now as they did when I looked for her. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I need to forget about her. It’s not like I can find her.”

I’ve tried and come up empty.

Before anyone can respond, my phone buzzes on the table. I glance at the screen and pick it up. “It’s Sam. I better take this.” I click the screen. “Hey, Sam. What’s up?”

The sound of his voice hits me like a punch in the gut and my chest tightens. He’s crying—something I’ve never heard him do in the years I’ve been mentoring him. He’s tough, tougher than most eleven-year-olds have any right to be, but right now, he sounds broken.

“Penn,” he chokes out. “I…I need you.”

“Hey, hey,” I say quickly, my heart pounding. “I’m here, buddy. Take a deep breath. What’s going on?”

He sniffles and the line is quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “I-I messed up. I’m in trouble.”

I stand up, already moving toward the door. “Where are you, Sam? I’m coming to you.”

The guys are watching with concern, but I don’t have time to explain.

All I can think about is Sam, how he hasn’t been himself lately either, but I haven’t been able to get to the bottom of it.

I haven’t spent as much time with him as normal because I’ve been gearing up for training camp, which starts soon, but we try to FaceTime every day.

Now, hearing the fear in his voice, I know I’ve been right to be concerned.

“I’m at the police station. They said I could call you.”

“The police station?”

“Yeah,” his voice cracks.

“Okay, I’ll be right there. Less than ten minutes, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you,” he says, and I hear him sniffling again before he ends the call.

“You need help?” Rhodes asks.

“I’m not sure yet. He’s at the police station.”

“Let us know,” Henley says.

“I can go with you,” Weston says.

“That’s okay. I’ll see what’s up first and then let you know,” I say.

He nods and Bowie squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll be there in a heartbeat if you need us.”

“Thanks, guys.” I go out the door, zigzagging through the coffee shop and rush to my SUV.

The fluorescent lights buzz as I walk into the police station, my stomach already in knots. Bill Shockley stands near the front desk, his large frame looming over a small, hunched figure. Sam. His shoulders are slumped, his face a mask of shame.

“Penn,” Bill says, his usual gruffness softened slightly. His firm voice feels almost for show, like he’s acting tough with Sam watching.

“Bill,” I reply, my eyes locking with Sam’s. “What’s going on here?”

Bill gestures at Sam. “Caught this guy stealing over at Aurora’s.”

My brows furrow, and I bend in front of Sam, meeting his eyes. “Stealing? That’s not like you. What did you take?”

He reluctantly meets my eyes, and they’re full of tears that he’s trying hard not to let fall. “Some granola bars and peanut butter,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was hungry.”

The words hit me like a baseball bat.

“Sam,” I say, my voice cracking. “I will feed you every day of the week if you’re hungry. I didn’t know…I’m so sorry.”

He collapses in my arms, and I hug him tight, my throat burning. Over his shoulder, I look at Bill, my jaw clenched. “I need to talk to child services.”

Bill’s face softens more, but his voice stays professional. “Penn, you know it’s not that simple.”

“How is this happening?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. “Why is he in a foster home where he’s not getting enough to eat? I want to take him home. I can take care of him.”

Bill sighs, crossing his arms. “Look, I get it. But you’ll have to talk to CPS to see what you can do. It’s not just about feeding him.”

“I can do better for him than what he’s getting right now,” I snap. “Look at him, Bill. He’s stealing food because he’s hungry. How is that okay? How can we just let that slide?”

I’ve been worried about him losing weight for months and brought food to him regularly, but are his foster parents not letting him have it? What’s going on here?

Bill’s tough facade cracks. “I’ll make some calls. But Penn, these things take time. You can’t just…take him home tonight.”

I look down at Sam, his small frame trembling against me, and feel a surge of helplessness like I’ve never known. He needs me and I want him to know I will fight for him, no matter what it takes.

“It’s been almost three months now, since I started the process to become his foster parent.

It’s been tedious. I’ve done the background check, the interviews, the home visits…

all I’m waiting for is the approval and the license.

This is crazy that there can be people willing to help and they’re turned down.

“Make the calls,” I say, my voice steel.

“I’ll order some food to be delivered while we wait.

I’m not going anywhere until I know Sam’s taken care of. ”