Page 7 of For Pucking Real (The Seattle Vipers #4)

SIX

LIA

Now

I know that look.

The one Devan wore just now, like someone cracked open his chest and he's trying to pretend it didn't hurt. Like he's spent years trying to glue himself back together and someone just stepped into the room holding the missing piece.

That someone appears to be Tobias Groves.

He doesn't move like a stranger. Doesn't look at Devan like a new teammate.

There's too much knowing behind that glance, too much silence stuffed between them.

I don't know what it is, don't know what they were, but I know it's not nothing.

I think I knew this the first time I met him at my place, the careful way his eyes had flickered to Devan before settling on me, a current of unspoken history crackling in the air between them.

That scares me more than I want to admit.

I sip my soda slowly, letting Brea and Alexis chatter around me.

The ice clinks against the glass as I nod at all the right places, inserting commentary when I'm supposed to, but my head is a thousand miles from dress silhouettes and tour preps.

My eyes keep straying to Devan across the room, to the way his smile falters just slightly every time Tobias enters his periphery, how his broad shoulders tense almost imperceptibly before he forces them to relax.

Tobias. . .he keeps looking at me, like I'm not supposed to notice, but I do. I've noticed for a while now, the weight of his gaze like a physical touch against my skin.

It's not even what he says, it's what he doesn't. The way his eyes flick toward my porch light when it clicks on at night, a moth drawn to flame.

The way his shadow lingers by his window when I'm pacing with Chloe in the rocker, trying to soothe her back to sleep with whispered lullabies and cool night air, the soft cadence of my voice carrying across the narrow space between our houses.

I'll turn around, and I swear I can feel him watching, like his gaze settles between my shoulder blades. Not intrusive. Not creepy.

Curious and careful, like he's watching a constellation and trying to map out how the stars connect, searching for patterns in the chaos of light.

God help me, I've watched him too.

There's something gentle under that quiet intensity.

Something I don't understand yet. The way he reads on his back porch, completely absorbed, one knee drawn up to his chest. The way he waters the neglected flower beds Alexis left behind, bringing them slowly back to life with patient hands.

Something about the way he just looked at Devan makes me think maybe I'm not the only one he's watching, not the only one he's trying to understand.

Chloe giggles across the room, Ridley bouncing her on his lap while mimicking train noises. My brother, in full dad-mode, complete with choo-choo sound effects and dramatic arm movements that makes Brea shake her head with affectionate exasperation.

I see it in her eyes, that quiet longing for what might have been, for the path not taken when everything fell apart.

I recognize that look because I've worn it myself on countless sleepless nights.

I know exactly what she yearns for now that she's finally taking control of her life again, piece by fragile piece, rebuilding herself from the ground up.

Sometimes I catch her staring at nothing, lost in thoughts she never shares, dreams she keeps locked away behind those carefully constructed walls of hers.

I only hope with everything in me that she and my brother finally get their hearts' desire.

Chloe's laugh rings out like windchimes, bright and clear and absolutely hers. Her dark curls bounce with each movement, her tiny fingers fisting in Ridley’s collar, gummy smile wide with wonder. She lights up every space. Just like her dad.

I glance at Devan again. He's talking to Coach Lennox now, smile firmly in place, gesturing with those large hands that have cradled our daughter with such tenderness.

It's not fake exactly, but it's not the smile he gives Chloe or me—or used to give me, anyway.

This one doesn't quite reach his eyes, doesn't create those crinkles at the corners that I've memorized without meaning to.

I hate this part. The quiet guilt that follows me everywhere, settling on my shoulders like a familiar weight.

I set the rules. I built the walls, brick by emotional brick.

I told him we needed boundaries for Chloe's sake, for mine.

That we'd co-parent, that we'd take things slow.

That he'd follow my lead, dance to whatever rhythm I dictated.

Oh, how he has. He has done everything I've asked. Every time. Even when it's killed him, even when I could see the longing in his eyes as he handed our sleeping daughter back to me at the door.

Even now, I know I'm hurting him. I know it every time he walks away from my door, slow and reluctant, like he's leaving something sacred behind, feet dragging on the porch steps.

Every time he texts me ‘night’ instead of calling like I know he wants to, like I sometimes wish he would.

Every time he carries diapers upstairs without a word when my hands are full and my eyes are tired, anticipating my needs before I voice them.

He never pushes. Never demands more than I offer, never asks for the pieces of my heart I've kept locked away.

Maybe that's what makes it worse.

Because what if I want more? What if? What if I want everything? The thought of it terrifies and thrills me simultaneously.

The thought coils in my chest like a live wire, electric and dangerous.

I know I love Devan. In my own way, I always have.

Since before Chloe. Since that night I never meant to let him in, when grief and loneliness had made me vulnerable, when his gentle understanding had broken through my defenses.

Now, I look at Tobias and wonder if it's possible for your heart to stretch twice, to expand beyond what you thought were its limits.

If the same pulse can beat for two people in different rhythms, one steady and warm and familiar, the soundtrack to my daughter's birth and first laugh. The other one just beginning to sing, new and unexplored, a melody I'm only starting to hear.

The scary part isn't that I want them both, that I can feel myself drawn in two directions at once. It's that some small, secret part of me wonders if I always have, if I've been waiting for our worlds to collide without realizing it.

I glance back up just in time to see Devan disappearing into the kitchen, long strides carrying him away from the crowd.

His shoulders are squared, but there's something in the way he exhales, like he's letting go of something heavy.

Or maybe holding it in, keeping it contained where no one can see the cracks in his carefully constructed facade.

Tobias is still across the room, by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Seattle skyline glittering behind him like a backdrop of stars.

When he looks my way, it's not shy or furtive.

It's steady. A quiet acknowledgment. A knowing that passes between us, an understanding that belies the short time we've known each other.

He lifts his drink in a silent toast, amber liquid catching the light. It's not flirty or cocky. He's just present, letting me know he sees me, really sees me, beyond the walls and the careful facade I've constructed.

I feel the jolt of it, low in my belly, a spark of recognition that travels through my body like wildfire.

I incline my head, just barely, but it's enough. Enough to let him know I see him too. Maybe I've seen my helpful, considerate neighbor for a while now, noticed the depth behind those hazel eyes, the careful way he moves through the world.

Then I turn toward Ridley, toward my daughter, whose laughter is the soundtrack to my life now.

"Your kid is going to have her own fan club by the time she's ten," Alexis says, sidling up next to me with a mocktail that's more garnish than liquid, a small forest of mint and berries protruding from the glass.

Her bestseller-writing brain is probably cataloging all of this for her next romance, storing away details and dynamics for characters yet to be born.

I snort, the sound inelegant but genuine. "She already does. The entire defensive line would die for her. But look at Kodah, two months old and he only has to coo at Coach Lennox and the man melts."

"Our babies have exceptional genes all around.

" Alexis winks, nodding toward Devan, who's now holding her son cradled in his arms. He stands with Coach Lennox, his broad shoulders filling out his henley in a way that still makes my mouth water, the fabric stretching across muscles honed by years on the ice.

"That man could charm the skates off a penguin with that smile alone. "

I roll my eyes but don't disagree. It's the truth, undeniable as gravity.

Devan Scott has always been magnetic. A gravitational pull I fought against until I couldn't anymore, until resistance became futile.

One night of weakness after a playoff loss led to Chloe, and nothing's been the same since, my life forever altered by that single surrender to desire.

"Speaking of charming. . .your neighbor seems to be fitting in nicely.

" Alexis inclines her head toward Tobias, who stands by the windows, continuing to nurse his whiskey with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Tor says he's got a wicked slapshot. Poor Derrick had a panic attack when the shot came too close to his head. "

"He's quiet," I say, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile, my voice a touch too measured. "But he's been helpful. Fixed my porch swing last week when the chain broke. Didn't even have to ask him."