Page 13

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

DELANEY

M ax just got back from a stretch of road games.

The Cranes were on the West Coast for a few days, and the house felt especially quiet with just Caroline and me.

I texted Iris, hoping for some company, but she travels with the team—and her husband—when they’re away, which somehow made my loneliness feel even heavier.

The guys dress up when they travel, and Max walks through the door looking mouthwateringly good in a dark gray suit.

He greeted me briefly on his return before tossing his duffel in the mudroom and disappearing into his room to change.

Now, he’s reappeared in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt that fits his shoulders entirely too well.

If it’s possible, he looks just as scrumptious as he did in the suit.

He smells faintly like soap… and a little like airplane air, that filtered, oddly fresh scent no one else seems to believe exists.

My friends always roll their eyes when I mention it, but I stand by it.

Airplane air is a scent, and Max is wearing it now.

I have to fight the urge to lean in for a whiff.

Apparently, loneliness makes me desperate.

He taps the hot-pink sticky notes on the wall above the kitchen table—our unofficial scoreboard. They're covered in scribbled numbers, documenting the ongoing battle that is our rummy game.

Max had suggested we play a couple of weeks ago while Caroline was down for a nap.

I used to play with my mom, so I jumped at the chance.

During that first game, neither of us made it to five hundred, which is usually the official winning score.

So we slapped our running tally on the wall and have been sneaking in a round or two here and there ever since.

At this point, we’ve long passed five hundred. I’m not even sure what we’re playing to anymore. I don’t think either of us wants to admit defeat, so maybe it’s the kind of game that just never ends.

For the record, I’m currently winning—by forty-two points.

“Got a round in you?” he asks.

“Always have time to kick your ass,” I say, sliding into my seat.

He pulls out the chair across from me and sits. “You know forty-two points is basically nothing in this game, right? I could catch up in a single hand.”

“You could,” I say, raising a brow. “But will you?”

He picks up the deck and starts shuffling with practiced ease. “I guess we’ll see,” he says, flashing that charming smile that always makes my stomach do a little somersault. Then softer he adds, “Is it bad that I kind of hope she doesn’t sleep through the night tonight?”

I offer a gentle smile. “Not bad at all. You miss her. But she’s been sleeping like a champ lately, so chances are your reunion will have to wait until morning.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, then starts dealing the cards, stacking the deck neatly in the center between us.

We start playing, cards clicking softly on the table between us.

“Did you girls do anything fun the past few days?” Max asks, laying down three aces with a smirk.

“No,” I say, sorting through my hand. “It was pretty boring, honestly. Iris is my only local friend left—everyone else has moved away. And she was off with the team, unfortunately.” I toss a card into the discard pile. “I did try a new recipe, though. Chana masala.”

He grins. “I knew I smelled curry. You mean chicken masala?”

“No, Chana. It’s an Indian chickpea curry. I suppose it’s like chicken masala, but… you know, with chickpeas.”

Max lays down a card with a chuckle. “Are you seriously still on Chickpea TikTok?”

“Uh, yes. And considering the sheer volume of recipes on there, I’ll be stuck in chickpea land for a while.”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath.

“Don’t worry. The recipe could feed your entire team. There are plenty of leftovers in the fridge for your enjoyment.”

“Oh, can’t wait,” he deadpans, eyes wide with fake enthusiasm.

I narrow my gaze. “Hey. It was good .”

“I’m sure it was,” he replies, then lifts a hand, palm out. “But hear me out… what if we move on from chickpeas? Like maybe try… chicken. Or another main ingredient?”

“They’re healthy,” I say, half defensive, half laughing. “And they have tons of protein.”

“So does chicken,” he says, flashing that grin again.

I shrug. “That’s fair.”

He draws a card. “So at the very least, you guys must’ve run errands. A trip to the grocery store to re-stock your chickpeas?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Grocery delivery. It’s been too cold to take Caroline out. And with it being germ season, she’s better off at home.”

Max nods in understanding. “Doesn’t your mom live nearby?”

“Yeah, but she’s on a cruise with her single lady friends.”

“Nice,” he says with a laugh. “What about your dad?”

I shift in my seat, watching him over the top of my cards. “Honestly, I don’t know where he is. We don’t really stay in touch.”

His brow furrows. “That’s too bad.”

I shake my head. “Not really. He wasn’t the best dad… or husband.”

“I’m sorry,” he says gently, his voice sincere.

I nod, then glance up. “What about your family? You haven’t mentioned them much. Does Caroline have grandparents?”

“She does,” he says. “And an aunt. But she hasn’t met any of them yet.”

I pause, surprised. “Really?”

He sighs. “My parents live in Florida. They own a couple of companies and are always traveling for work. My sister’s a hotshot defense attorney in New York.

All three of them are still in shock that I’m a dad.

They’re excited and supportive… just busy.

They keep saying they’ll visit when they get a break. ”

“And when will that be?”

Max shrugs. “No idea.”

He draws a card, fingers lingering on it before setting it down.

“You know, growing up, I really admired my family for their drive. That constant hustle. Once I knew I wanted to play pro hockey, I went all in—worked my ass off, just like they did.” He lays his card down, his voice quieter now.

“I still love them. Still respect them. But since Caroline came along... I’ve realized there’s more to life than work.

It sucks knowing she might never be close to them.

You can’t build real family over the phone.

” He looks up, a soft smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“So yeah… Caroline’s family will be the team.

My chosen family. The people I bring into her life who actually show up.

They may not be blood, but they’ll be the best kind of family. ”

I draw a card, my heart twisting a little as I study his face.

He really is a good man.

Max lays down his final set of cards and raises his brows. “That’s game.”

I groan, glancing at the cards still in my hand. “Dammit.”

“Told you,” he says, tapping his lip with a finger. “Didn’t I say I could catch up in one round? Maybe we should call it a night. Let the new score settle in.”

“Absolutely not.” I grab the sticky note and scribble in the new totals. “We’re playing another round.”

He grins. “With how competitive you are, I’m surprised you’re an only child.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I can just picture you as a feisty little sister, always trying to one-up your older brother or something.”

I laugh. “I was definitely feisty and competitive. But nope—no siblings.”

“My sister, Olivia, is a few years older. She’s competitive as hell too. Everything was a contest growing up. I think that’s part of what makes her such a great lawyer. She’s brilliant... and kind of terrifying.”

“Sounds like someone I’d like.”

“You would,” he says. “She’d love you, too.”

“Are you close?”

“We were,” he says, picking up the deck and shuffling it. “Growing up, we were thick as thieves. Being three years older, she always looked out for me. But now... life’s busy. She sent a gift box for Caroline, though. Designer baby clothes and a tiny trench coat.”

I chuckle. “Adorable. Maybe we should plan a trip to visit Olivia in New York.”

“Yeah, I’d love that. It’s just a busy time of year for me too.” He deals us each five cards.

I draw a card from the pile and slide a card across the table to form the discard pile. “Maybe after the season ends.”

“For sure.” He nods.

We play a few more rounds, adding new scores to the sticky note. After my third yawn, Max leans back and smiles.

“Alright, I’m calling it. You’re too tired to properly trash-talk me.”

I laugh, leaning back in my chair. He’s not wrong. I’m exhausted… and still, I don’t want the night to end. After several days in this house without him, it feels good to have him home again.

“I can warm you up some food?” I offer.

He waves me off, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Nah, I’m good. I can grab something if I get hungry. And hey—you’ve got to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

He gives me a look. “Taking care of me like that. I told you—it’s not your job. I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

“I know.” I shrug. “But I don’t mind.”

And I don’t. That realization hits harder than I expect.

I should mind, and normally, I would. If it were anyone else—especially someone like Mr. Newmeister—I’d let him starve before I lifted a finger.

But with Max, I want to help. Taking care of him feels.

.. good. And I don’t know what to do with that.

He catches me staring, his eyes warm. “I promise I’m good.” He tucks the cards back into their box. “But I do appreciate the offer.”

I nod slowly. “Alright. I actually am pretty tired, so… I’m gonna head to bed. See you tomorrow.”

“Night, Laney.”

Two simple words.

But the warmth behind them twists something deep in my chest. I nod and turn away quickly, my feet moving faster than necessary as I retreat down the hall.

I’m all sorts of confused.

Tomorrow, I’m looking up baby-friendly library events. Mommy-and-me yoga. Anything to get out of this house more often. I need to meet other moms. Have more adult conversations with someone—anyone—who doesn’t have Max’s smile or his voice or that stupid, devastating dimple.

Because Max Park has completely thrown my equilibrium, and I’m starting to forget who I even was before him.

I need to fix that.