Page 82 of One Pucking Life

Something inside me has truly shifted.

I feel lighter. I feel loved. I feel happy.

But most notably, I feel free.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

MAX

We land in Hawaii a few days before Caroline’s first birthday.

It’s warm, and the ocean breeze feels so refreshing. I have my daughter strapped to my chest in the baby carrier. Caroline kicks her little legs, waving to everyone we pass like the world is her personal fan club.

Laney adjusts her sunglasses, looking over the rims as she eyes me.

“What?” The corner of my mouth turns up.

“Just admiring the view. Gorgeous, barefoot, already tan… and looking so good holding our girl.”

I chuckle. “You might get a little tan too if you didn’t lather five pounds of sunscreen on every inch of your body.”

She shakes her head. “No, what I would get is red. I don’t want to spend our vacation in pain and looking like a tomato, thank you very much. You’re just lucky you have the type of skin that tans.”

“This was a good idea,” I say. “I really do love it here.”

Hawaii has a special place in our hearts after bye week. It was the first time Delaney, Caroline, and I spent time in front of the team as a family unit—not just as me, my kid, and my nanny. The weather is beyond gorgeous. Plus, Caroline was so good on the plane the first time around that we figured we’d come back and celebrate her first birthday in style.

Delaney grins. “Only the best for our girl.”

We’re here for a week—just the three of us—our first true family vacation. No hockey. No timelines. Just quiet mornings and lazy beach days, building sandcastles and chasing waves, eating too much fresh pineapple and letting time slow down. Each night we walk the beach with Caroline perched on my shoulders, her tiny hands tangled in my hair, giggling like she’s never been happier.

And honestly? Same. Most summers, I miss playing, but I’m really enjoying the downtime.

After walking the beach for a while, we end up near this little seaside restaurant with whitewashed walls, a tin roof, and strings of twinkle lights crisscrossing the patio. It smells like grilled fish and fresh bread, and there’s a breeze coming off the water that makes everything feel a little dreamlike.

Delaney points at the handwritten chalkboard menu posted near the entrance. “They have grilled mahi-mahi and coconut shrimp. That sounds so good.”

“Sold,” I say, bending down to brush the sand off my feet. I grab my flip-flops from the mesh bag hanging on the stroller and slide them on with a small groan. “Ugh, I forgot how weird it feels putting shoes back on after being barefoot all day. I already miss the sand between my toes.”

“Tragic,” Delaney teases, her voice warm.

Caroline babbles from the carrier. She reaches out and grabs Delaney’s fingers.

We snag a table on the patio under a big yellow umbrella, the ocean just across the road, waves glittering under the late afternoon sun. Caroline sits in a high chair between us, kicking her legs against the wooden bar.

“Did you see the look she gave the server?” Delaney whispers behind her menu. “She’s already learning how to flirt.”

“She gets it from you.” I grin.

Delaney raises a brow. “Excuse me? I am subtle.”

I give her a look. “You winked at me before you even knew my name.”

“I did not!”

“You did. In the parking lot, when you tried to carjack me.”

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