Page 61 of Stick Fight

“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath.

“But thenicekind of asshole, remember?” I flash him a grin.

“Good night, Roman,” he says, laughing. Then, just before I close the door, he tosses in, “Go home to your girl. I know I’m itching to get home to my family too.”

My Girl.

Family.

Those words linger in the air and curl around me. I guess peopledokind of see Gabby as my girl—family. She lives with me, after all. Sure, we’ve been keeping things quiet. She’s not exactly eager to end up on someone’s Instagram story with me. But I’d have to be an idiot to think the guys haven’t pieced it together.

The truth is I’ve never felt better. No random flings. No morning-after awkwardness. Just... happiness. Peace. My game’s sharper, my head’s clearer. Now I get why half the team is either proposing or already hitched. They figured it out long before I did. This whole “being with one person who actually means something” thing. It’s not a trap. It’s a freaking cheat code.

Not that I’m getting engaged or anything. Let’s not get carried away. Marriage ruins everything, and if I ever forget that, my kid brother would be more than happy to remind me and I’d be grateful for that.

Right now, I’m just living in this moment with Gabby, her sewing machine humming in the background, that little wrinkle in her forehead when she’s deep in a sketch, her soft laugh when I say something stupid. She’s rebuilding, and I’m... I don’t even know what I’m doing, but it feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I make my way up to the building, and Stephen, our doorman, beats me to the door.

“How are you this evening, Roman?” he asks, pulling his coat tighter against the wind.

“Doing great. You?”

“Great as well. Just counting the days till spring.”

I laugh. “Yeah. Same.”

Only... am I? Spring means time is moving. And if time keeps moving, it means Gabby might be ready to move out. And the thought of that hits harder than it should.

“Gabby dropped off cinnamon rolls today,” Stephen says, smiling.

That stops me.

Cinnamon rolls?

When I talked to her earlier, she said she went from Tanner’s to the grocery store, then home. No mention of The Nook. Not that she owes me a play-by-play of her day, but... the omission sits weird. Not bad-weird. Just... off. Maybe it’s nothing. Or maybe it’s the fact that Theo—Mr. Gossip Column himself—was sniffing around again, asking when Gabby was heading back to herfiancé.

If that guy spent half as much time on his game as he did stalking teammates’ personal lives, he might not be on the trading block. Though, honestly, I can’t wait for him to be gone. Rip joining the Bucks is going to be a game-changer.

And as for Gabby, I really don’t want her to go anywhere. But I don’t have a say. Or do I? I mean, she ran out on her fiancé a month ago, a guy Theo thinks she’s going back to, because a girl like her wants the princess and the castle, a man who can give her everything she wants—and what she wants is a career in fashion. I shake my head. I have to be tired—exhausted—if I’m letting Theo’s bullshit take up space in my brain.

I head for the elevator and tap through my messages while I wait. One from my brother. I pocket my phone with a mental note to hit him back later, just as the doors slide open on my floor. My steps echo down the hallway, fast and heavy, like I’m chasing something. Or maybe someone. I slide the key in the lock and push through the door.

“Gabby?” I call out, moving past the kitchen. My eyes flick toward the counter. There’s a pot bubbling on the stove. Some kind of sauce. Smells amazing, but not what I was subconsciously searching for.

Fuck off, Theo. Stay out of my head.

“In here,” Gabby calls. Her voice is warm and easy, like a light flicking on inside me. She steps into the hallway before I can reach the den, and when I see her, messy bun, a tape measure over her shoulder, bare feet, I swear something inside me settles.

She opens her arms like she’s been waiting for me all day, and yeah, I walk right into them. No hesitation. Her arms loop around me, soft and certain, and suddenly I’m not tired anymore. Just home.

“You’re back early,” she murmurs, her cheek brushing my jaw.

“Yeah. Tanner drives like a man on a mission when he’s trying to get back to his family.”

Family.

There it is again. That word. Always popping up lately, like the universe is trying to tell me something I’ve been fighting forever.

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