Page 27 of Make the Play

Push it down. Move on. That’s the rule, right?

It’s not like I haven’t had meaningless sex before. One-night stands that blur at the edges, hot bodies in cold sheets, the kind of encounters that don’t leave a mark.

This should be easy.

Except, this isn’t some woman.

It’s Zoe.

The girl who talks with her hands when she’s fired up, who pretends nothing gets to her but overthinks everything.

Who tells me to tone it down but will throw it back twice as hard just to prove she can.

The one who makes me laugh when I don’t want to. Who never lets me coast.

Who’s sharp and impossible and all the best things I’ve never once deserved.

And I feel it.

***

By the time I get to the restaurant, most of the crew is already here, sprawled across a big corner table, laughing loud enough that people at other tables are probably considering complaints.

Charlie is settled next to Jake, who has four-year-old Meadow balanced on his lap, waving a butter knife dramatically as she holds court. Noah, who's nearly eight, sits next to them, deeply focused on whatever masterpiece he’s sketching on his placemat. Claire and Ryan, our captain, are across from them. Ryan’s bouncing their baby, Poppy, on his knee while Claire sips her coffee like it’s a lifeline.

Hutch is leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and watching Logan, who’s glaring at Lulu like she’s some kind of trickster spirit sent to torment him. Which, honestly, she kind of is.

I clock it instantly—the guard dog energy, the subtle shifts in positioning, the way Logan looks wildly uncomfortable every time Lulu so much as breathes in his direction.

Eli made them babysit his sister.

“Eli put you guys on Lulu duty, huh?” I grin, sliding into my seat as Logan scowls.

“We are not on Lulu duty.”

Hutch just takes a sip of his coffee and wisely says nothing.

Lulu beams, seemingly oblivious. But that’s the great thing about her—she plays wide-eyed and airy, but the girl missesnothing.She’s free-spirited, sure. Pretty as hell too, hence the overactive guard dog reflexes from the boys.

But underneath all the pink and polish is a mind that’s sharp as hell.

“Oh, I love it! They’ve beensocute with all their macho protectiveness. Logan even held my purse while I went to order.”

Jake chokes on his drink as Logan closes his eyes, begging the universe to take him out.

Charlie chuckles. “You held her purse?”

“It’s not apurse,” Logan grits out. “It’s a bag.”

Lulu tilts her head. “It's pink. Has a bow on it.”

I snort. “Damn, Pookie. Didn’t peg you as a bow guy.”

Logan flips me off without looking in my direction.

I lean back, letting the conversation settle around me, the comfortable noise filling up the space in my head. It’s grounding, this group. Watching Jake kiss the side of Charlie’s head, like he’s just glad she exists. Watching Noah pass Meadow a crayon so she can “help” with his drawing. Seeing Ryan absolutely whipped for his daughter giggling against his chest.

This group, this family, it’s solid.

---