Page 33 of One Pucking Life

“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 agift 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.

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