Page 203 of Make the Play

Jake grunts, but his eyes are carefully scanning me. “He runs our house now. We’re all just living in it.”

He sets the bag down, then kisses Charlie’s temple. He looks at me again, and whatever joke he might’ve made dies in his throat.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter.

No, but I nod anyway, and he doesn’t push, just shifts his attention to Chase.

“Come grab the carrier base. Still in the trunk.”

Chase frowns. “Didn’t you bring that up already?”

Jake shrugs. “Must’ve been the diaper bag.”

It wasn’t, but I appreciate him doing something to stop Chase from spiraling. He follows Jake out without another word, and the door clicks shut behind them.

Charlie steps closer, setting Theo’s carrier gently on the couch.

“He’s out cold, and your apartment is warm. Perfect combo.”

I sit down on the couch next to it and glance at the tiny bundle inside with his wrinkled forehead, pursed lips, and a fist tucked near his cheek like he’s plotting something even in sleep.

She lifts him, cradles him for a second, then sets him in my arms like sheknowsI need something to hold onto that isn’t grief or guilt or whatever hollow thing is eating me from the inside out.

I look down, and Theo sighs in his sleep. Something inside me eases a little along with it.

“Look at you,” I whisper. “Dreaming about milk and world domination.”

Charlie sinks onto the couch beside me but doesn’t speak, and I keep going, voice low and nurturing.

“You gonna grow up and break hearts, huh? Just like your uncle. Except maybe with less property damage.”

A soft sound escapes Charlie, almost a laugh. It takes me a second to realize I’m smiling. But it’s not for her and not for me. It’s for Theo.

I grin down at him, fingers brushing over his impossibly tiny fist. “Menace in a blanket,” I murmur. “Probably gonna turn into one of those tall hockey boys who never learns how to fold a towel but loves their person with their whole chest.”

In front of me, a floorboard creaks, and I look up. Chase is standing there. Jake, too, hovering just inside the doorway. My mouth opens to say something—deflect, retreat, laugh it off—but Chase’s expression stops me.

He’s not smiling, just staring at me like I said something significant. I don’t know what he heard in my words, but something about the way he’s looking at me is enough to make my throat close.

His eyes flick to Theo, then to me again, and something in them softens, so painfully tender it makes my throat ache. Buthe doesn’t say a word and doesn’t move, just stands there, letting the moment hold him hostage.

I feel exposed and look away first, not knowing what to say, but Charlie does. She clears her throat, casual but not really. “Theo’s got you wrapped around his tiny finger, huh?”

I nod mutely, keeping my eyes on the baby.

Jake’s the first to step forward, resting the carrier base on the ground with a soft thud. But instead of turning straight back to Chase, he steps over to Charlie and leans in. Touches her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye like he’s checking for any signs of stress she won’t admit to.

“You sure you’re okay?” he murmurs, low enough I almost don’t hear it.

Charlie nods and gives him that soft smile that only belongs to him.

“We’ll be fine,” she says, tilting her head toward me.

Jake exhales through his nose, not quite satisfied, but trusting her. Then he leans down and kisses her, slow and reverent and maybe a little longer than necessary.

His hand lingers on the side of her face, memorizing the feel of it, then finally, he reluctantly pulls back.

“You call if anything feels off, okay? I’ll come right back.”

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