Page 17 of For Pucking Real (The Seattle Vipers #4)

THIRTEEN

DEVAN

Now

"— a nd remember: keep it smutty, ladies, gents, and everyone between. I'm your boy Dev-a-licious, signing off."

I kill the mic, swipe a palm over my face, and watch the red record light fade to darkness.

Quiet descends immediately, wrapping around me like a familiar blanket, broken only by Glitzy's imperious yawn beside the laptop.

She sprawls across my podcast notes like a fluffy white paperweight, her enormous Maine Coon body taking up more space than seems physically possible.

Her pale-pink glittery claws, twinkle beneath the harsh glow of my ring-light as she stretches luxuriously.

I scratch under her chin, my fingers disappearing into the plush fur.

"Five-star cameo, Glitzy girl, your audience absolutely adores you.

" I chuckle, the sound hollow even to my own ears.

"They are not watching for me. Not at all.

Just the giant fluffball who occasionally meows into the microphone. "

Glitzy blinks those glacier-blue eyes at me, gives my hand a token nip with just enough pressure to remind me who's actually in charge, then saunters toward her custom velvet chaise with the dignified strut of royalty.

Show's over, so is the facade. The moment the camera's off and I stop performing for my podcast audience, the buzz dies, and all that's left is the quiet hum of my penthouse's air conditioning and the persistent ache in my chest that won't quit no matter how many times I try to ignore it.

Reaching for my phone, I check it, again.

For what feels like the hundredth time today.

No new texts from Lia. Yesterday's message still sits there, pathetically unanswered: Let me know if you and munchkin need anything.

Left on read, like so many others lately.

I've tried not to count how often she forgets to answer these days, but the mental tally keeps growing despite my best efforts.

For weeks now, it's been like this. Fatherhood by appointment: show up on her schedule, disappear on mine.

I've tried to be understanding, God knows I've tried.

I know I've been busy with preseason so it has been easy to write it off with our schedules not aligning.

But fuck it though, parenting isn't supposed to be like this. I shouldn’t be the one sidelined.

I shouldn't have to beg to take care of my own child.

"Fuck," I mumble to myself, scrubbing a hand over my stubble. She's tired, Chloe's teething, she'll call when she can. It's fine.

Except. . .it's not fine. Nothing about this situation is fine.

Making my way out of my office with Glitzy hot on my heels, her bell-adorned diamond-studded collar jingling with each prancing step.

I quickly take care of her majesty's dinner, measuring out the premium kibble into her crystal dish and refreshing her water fountain.

I leave her favorite Animal Planet program playing on the television while I change out of my recording clothes—this afternoon I'm rocking the ‘Happily Ever After’ t-shirt and comfortable joggers my viewers have come to expect—and into something more suitable for an impromptu visit.

I'm done waiting for Lia. I'm done being the understanding one, the patient one, the one who never pushes back. I've tried to give her time and space, but where has that gotten me? A series of ‘read’ receipts and fleeting moments with my daughter that leave me feeling hollow.

Making my way back through the penthouse, I run my hands down Glitzy's relaxed back, her tail swishing back and forth hypnotically as she watches the large blue whale breach the tops of the ocean waves on screen.

Her purr rumbles through my fingertips, a soothing vibration that does little to calm my fraying nerves.

Grabbing my keys from the handcrafted bowl by the door, a gift from Lia last Christmas, I make my way to the elevator. No more waiting for permission, no more tentative text messages. I'm going to see my girls.

Twenty-one minutes later I'm rolling down her tree-lined street, dusk settling over Seattle in lavender shadows that soften the edges of the Victorian homes.

My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel tight, muscles bunching underneath my skin as I try to release the tension that's beginning to drown me.

No, Lia won't be happy about my unannounced arrival, but it's now or never.

We have a morning flight to LA, only a few preseason games left and then everything ramps up to full intensity.

I need to see her and Chloe to ease my mind before I'm consumed by the demands of the regular season.

On the radio Leon Thomas croons, Crash and Burn. Yeah, well, this song couldn't be more fitting for my current emotional state. The lyrics about yearning for a meaningful relationship hit a little too close to home right now.

Lia's Queen Anne Victorian comes into view, glowing warm against the evening sky.

Porch lights cast a welcoming amber glow across the meticulously maintained garden, a homing beacon to my peace of mind and calm.

I notice Tobias's black SUV sitting in the drive next door, gleaming under the streetlights.

Of course, he's home. I don't know what to do about him, about the complicated history between us that neither of us has acknowledged since he joined the Vipers.

I want to reach out, rekindle our friendship at least, but I know it wouldn't just stop there.

I still feel so much where he's concerned.

It's taking a shit ton amount of willpower to keep him just in my teammate box.

He's become part of the scenery lately: neighbor, Lia's helper, and mystery man hovering at the edges of my life.

On the ice we're electric, our chemistry undeniable; off it he's a closed door I'm scared to open for fear of what might come tumbling out.

I park beside Lia's vintage BMW that Ridley hates she drives, kill the engine, and sit in silence for a moment, gathering my courage.

For half a second I consider knocking, playing the role of polite visitor.

Then I remember: I have a key. Lia's never asked me to knock before, and I'm not going to start now.

This is my daughter's home. I have every right to be here.

The front door clicks open beneath my key, and I immediately notice Chloe's baby things tucked in every nook and cranny of the two front rooms—a bouncer in the corner, tiny socks draped over the arm of the sofa, a teething ring abandoned on the coffee table.

The sight of her things brings an instant smile to my face and makes my steps lighter, more purposeful.

The hardwood floors under my sneakers creak softly, announcing my presence as the faint sounds of Amy Winehouse's soulful voice floats my way from the kitchen.

Then I hear it, laughter, soft, bright, and unguarded.

My smile widens further. Lia's distinctive laugh, rounded by a baby's giggly squeal.

. .joined by a low chuckle that is unmistakably Tobias.

I pause for only a second, my heart skipping a beat.

Okay, I know he comes over from time to time.

Neighbors help each other out. No cause for alarm there, so why is my heart hammering so hard in my chest?

My two worlds colliding once more, past and present, desire and reality.

I don't make my presence known as I step into the doorway, taking in the scene before me.

Lia stands at the island, Chloe snug against her chest in a sunflower-print carrier that makes my daughter's light brown skin glow.

Baby's tiny fist drums happily on the fabric strap while Tobias, looking more relaxed than I've ever seen him, spoons mashed avocado into a tiny silicone bowl like it's the most natural thing in the world.

She's trying solid foods for the first time, without me.

Without me. It's all I can grab onto as I continue to memorize every excruciating detail of this intimate tableau.

Lia is dressed down in black leggings and a vintage Bowie tee, her dark hair piled messily atop her head, those black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

Tobias is wearing a soft grey henley pushed to the elbows, revealing the tattoo I remember tracing with my fingertips years ago, paired with black sweatpants that hang low on his hips.

They look comfortable together. Domestic, like a family unit that doesn't include me.

Then he does it, one minute, he's wiping green mush from Chloe's chin with gentle care, and the next he's leaning down, pressing a soft, almost casual kiss to Lia's smiling lips like he's done it a hundred times before.

The kiss lands like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath. The reaction has me sucking in a sharp, audible breath of surprise. Not only from the kiss itself, but from the entire scene of domestic bliss I've stumbled upon uninvited.

Lia startles first, her head whipping toward the doorway. "Devan?" Her voice catches, eyes widening behind her glasses.

Tobias's head jerks up; his hazel eyes blow wide with recognition and something else. Guilt? Fear? The spoon clinks against the bowl, avocado splattering across the pristine countertop like tiny green explosions.

I find my voice, somehow pulling professionalism from my years of post-game interviews. "Didn't want to wake anybody." It comes out smooth, almost casual, thank God for small miracles. "I hadn't heard from you. Came to see my girl before I leave tomorrow for the road trip."

Chloe squeals on cue, recognizing my voice even before she turns her head to find me. My chest aches with love and something sour that tastes like betrayal.

Lia's cheeks flame bright red. "Of course. I. . .I should've texted. She finally settled after lunch. We were just?—"