Page 18 of For Pucking Real (The Seattle Vipers #4)

"Feeding time," Tobias supplies, wiping his fingers methodically on a dish towel. He steps back, giving me space but not apologizing or looking particularly ashamed. His gaze searches my face like he's waiting for the explosion, the confrontation, the jealous outburst.

Well, he can keep waiting. I would never do that here. Not in front of my baby girl. Not when she's looking at me with those innocent eyes that mirror my own.

I force a smile, focusing on the only uncomplicated love in the room.

"Hey, munchkin." I extend my arms and Lia, seemingly grateful for my lack of reaction or maybe just guilty about being caught, unclips the carrier and eases Chloe into my waiting hands.

My baby immediately pats my unshaven cheek, her gummy grin lighting up her whole face.

I'm hit with a sense of peace that washes over me like a wave, and for a moment, none of it matters.

At least for now, holding my daughter, I'm anchored.

Lia worries her bottom lip between her teeth, a nervous habit I've always found endearing. "I can make coffee? Or dinner's almost?—"

"I'm good." I bury my nose in Chloe's soft curls, breathe her milky scent, let the small weight of her calm the riot inside me. "Mind if we hang in the nursery?" I gesture upstairs with my thumb, needing escape, needing space to process what I've just witnessed.

"Go ahead," Lia whispers, her voice small. Tobias shifts behind her, arms folding across his chest, expression unreadable. I hope the frown he's sporting is not directed at me. He has no right to frown, no right to look possessive or territorial. Not when it comes to my family.

I turn without another word, making my way through the house, taking the stairs two at a time.

Chloe's room beckons like a sanctuary—pastel walls, stuffed narwhals swimming across the ceiling mobile, and a rocking chair I painstakingly assembled the week before Chloe was born, cursing at Swedish instructions while Lia laughed and brought me lemonade.

I sit in that chair now, pull my daughter close against my chest, and hum a low version of You Are The Sunshine of My Life , feeling her tiny body relax against me.

We stay that way for a while, existing in our bubble.

I talk to Chloe, catching her up on Glitzy's latest antics—how she knocked over an entire bookshelf trying to catch a moth, how she's taken to sleeping on my hockey gear bag like it's a throne.

I talk about everything and nothing, anything to see the bright smile on my little girl's face and to keep my mind from spiraling.

She doesn't care about the adult complications, just as long as I'm holding her.

The way it's supposed to be. Simple. Uncomplicated. Pure.

It's not until she's drifted off in my arms, her eyelids growing heavy and finally closing, that my thoughts betray me.

You deserve this , a nasty voice hisses from the darkest corner of my mind.

You walked out on Tobias years ago; why shouldn't he find happiness here?

Lia has every right to choose him. She's made you no promises.

Even though she knows exactly how you feel about her.

Seeing that kiss, a tiny thing really, yet monumental in its implications, hurt worse than any hit I've taken on the ice. Because it looked right. It looked. . .permanent. Like they belong together in a way Lia and I never quite managed, despite creating a life together.

Chloe continues to sleep peacefully in my arms, her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she dreams baby dreams. I carefully lay her in the crib, tuck the blanket around her tiny form, making sure her favorite stuffed elephant is within reach.

In the dim blue glow of the night-light I brush her velvet-soft cheek with my knuckle.

"Daddy loves you," I whisper, throat tight with emotion. "Always. No matter what."

Downstairs floorboards creak ominously. Is Tobias still here?

Is Lia coming upstairs to confront me? I run a hand through my hair and stare at the muffled glow under the door, contemplating my next move.

I could march down there, demand explanations, insist we talk, laying it all out on the table.

Or I could walk away, fly to L.A. tomorrow with the team, and pretend this isn't ripping me apart from the inside out.

I choose neither, for the moment. I sink back into the rocker, hands dangling between my knees, and let the rage simmer quietly beneath my skin.

Tomorrow we face the Kings on their home ice.

If this is how it is, the ice is where the truth will break, where I'll channel this pain into something productive, something fierce.

For now I sit in the dark nursery listening to my daughter breathe, reminding myself that love, real love, shows up. Even when it hurts like hell. Even when you're not sure you're wanted.

Downstairs, two people I care about more than I want to admit are figuring out where I fit in their picture. That's if I fit at all.

When morning comes, I'll know whether to fight for a place in it or fight to forget I ever believed I had one.

A soft knock at the door breaks through my spiraling thoughts. I wipe at my face, surprised to find it wet with tears I didn't realize I'd shed.

"Dev?" Lia's voice is barely audible through the wood. "Can I come in?"

I clear my throat, sit up straighter, trying to compose myself. "Yeah."

She slips in, shuts the door with a gentle click that seems to seal us in our own private universe. In the blue glow of the nightlight, her face is all shadows and angles, catlike and mysterious behind those glasses that have always driven me wild. My heart lurches painfully despite everything.

"Is she sleeping okay?" Lia hovers by the crib, not meeting my eyes, her fingers tracing the wooden rail.

"Like a champ." I watch her carefully, noting the way she nervously twists her hands, the slight tremble in her fingers. "Tobias gone?"

She nods, still not looking directly at me. "He had to get home. He has the same flight as you tomorrow."

"Right." The word hangs between us, loaded with unspoken questions.

Silence stretches between us, vast and empty as center ice before a face-off. I'm not going to make this easy. No more Mr. Understanding. Not tonight. Not after what I saw.

Lia finally crosses to me, perches on the ottoman at my feet. Close enough that I could reach out and touch her knee if I wanted to. I don't. I keep my hands firmly on the armrests of the rocker.

"I should have called you," she says it like she's rehearsed it, the words coming out measured and careful. "About Chloe trying solids."

"Yeah, you should have." My voice comes out rougher than intended, laced with the hurt I'm trying to contain. "And about Tobias? Should you have called me about that too?"

Her head snaps up, finally meeting my gaze. "That's not?—"

"Don't tell me it's not what it looked like." The control I've been maintaining slips, just a fraction. "I've got eyes, Li-Li."

The nickname, once affectionate and teasing, now sounds like an accusation. I see her wince at the sharp edge in my tone.

"It's complicated." She runs a hand through her dark waves, disheveling them further.

"Uncomplicate it for me then." I lean forward, elbows on my knees, closing some of the distance between us. "Because I've been patient. I've been understanding. I've been whatever the hell you needed me to be. I come here to find Tobias, my ex, by the way, playing house with you and my daughter."

Her eyes widen noticeably at the word ‘ex’. Shit. I've never actually called him my ex.

"Your ex?" Her voice drops to a whisper, incredulous. "You and Tobias were. . .?"

"Fucking." I wave a dismissive hand, though there was nothing dismissive about what we had, the intensity, the secrecy, the heartbreak when it ended. "That's not the point."

"That seems like a pretty significant point, Devan." Her tone sharpens, gaining strength. "You never mentioned more about your past with him in detail. It appears there's more to your story than you're telling me. All this time, watching you two at games, at team events. . .I can feel it."

"And you never mentioned you had a present with him." I match her tone, keeping my voice low for Chloe's sake though I want to let it all out. "Are we together, Lia? Because I thought we were trying. I thought we were figuring it out, working toward something real for Chloe's sake, for our sake."

She looks down at her hands, twisting a silver ring around her finger. "I care about you, Dev. You're Chloe's father. You'll always be important to me."

"And?" I press, needing more, always needing more from her.

"And. . ." She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. "I care about Tobias too. It happened gradually. He was just helping at first, being neighborly, and then. . ."

The words hit like a slapshot to the chest, knocking the wind out of me. I knew it, suspected it, but hearing it confirmed is different. It makes it real in a way I can't ignore.

"So what now?" I ask, suddenly exhausted by all of it. "You choose? Him or me?"

Lia's eyes meet mine, something fierce and determined flickering there. "Why does it have to be a choice?"

My brain stutters to a halt. "What?"

"Why does it have to be either/or?" She moves closer, voice gaining confidence with each word.

"You dated Tobias. You clearly still have feelings for each other—don't deny it, I've seen how you look at him on the ice, how your whole body language changes when he enters a room.

We have Chloe, a history, feelings that never quite resolved. "

"What are you saying?" My heart is pounding so hard I swear she must hear it echoing in the quiet nursery.

"I'm saying. . ." She takes a deep breath, as if preparing to jump off a cliff. "Maybe it doesn't have to be a competition. Maybe there's room for. . .all of us. Together."

The possibility unfolds in my mind like a play I never saw coming, complex, unexpected, terrifying in its potential. All of us. The three of us. It's so unexpected I can't form words, can't process the implications.

"That's crazy," I finally manage, but without conviction, without the certainty I should feel.

"Is it?" She challenges, leaning forward until our knees touch. "Tell me honestly, Dev. If Tobias and I weren't in the picture together, would you have ever tried to reconnect with him, to resolve what happened between you?"

The truth sits heavy on my tongue, impossible to deny. "No." Pride and fear would have kept me away, would have maintained that careful distance I've cultivated since he joined the team.

"And does seeing us together make you want to walk away from both of us? Or does it make you want to be part of it, part of us?"

My mouth goes dry at the directness of her question. "I don't know how that would work. I don't know if it could work."

"Neither do I." She reaches out, tentatively takes my hand. Her fingers are cool against my palm, familiar and comforting despite everything. "But maybe we figure it out. Together. The three of us."

I stare at our joined hands, mind racing through possibilities I never allowed myself to consider.

Tobias. Lia. Me. Chloe. A family configuration I hadn't imagined but that suddenly seems filled with potential.

Is it possible? Could we make something like that work in the real world, with real pressures, real expectations?

"I need to think," I whisper, overwhelmed by the possibilities. "I need to?—"

"I know." She squeezes my hand reassuringly. "Take the road trip. Play your games. We'll be here when you get back."

I look at my sleeping daughter, peaceful and innocent in her crib, then back at Lia's hopeful, nervous face. "All of you?"

She nods, a small smile flickering across her lips. "All of us. If that's what you want too."

I don't have an answer yet. For the first time in weeks, the weight in my chest feels different. Not lighter, exactly, just possible to carry. Like maybe there's a path forward I hadn't considered, one where I don't have to choose between the pieces of my heart.