Page 95 of Chasing The Goal
“You ready for Vegas?” he asks, casually biting into a croissant.
“Oh yeah. They’re fast. But we’ve got the edge in grit.”
Logan nods. “Darren’s been a wall back there. That stick lift in Game Four? Chef’s kiss.”
“He’s been lights out. And Connor’s finally stopped overthinking. You saw that move in the third last game?”
“The wraparound? Thought I was gonna black out.”
We both laugh.
Behind us, Ava’s whispering to Lola in her baby-voiced. “You’re a sweet, sticky little alien, yes you are. And we love you, even if you’re terrifying. One day you’ll rule us all.”
Mallory groans. “Please don’t tell her that.”
“She already knows,” Ava replies. “She’s just being polite about it for now.”
Logan leans on the railing, his voice quieter now. “You seem good, man. Like… settled.”
I glance at Mallory again. She’s watching the pond now, eyes half-lidded, soaking in the moment like sunlight. I swallow around the lump that rises in my throat.
“Yeah,” I say. “I am. It’s not easy, but it’s ours. And it’s worth every second.”
“Hell yeah,” Logan says. “That’s what it’s about.”
Ava turns toward us, raising an eyebrow. “Are you two having a dad-off?”
“We’re having a feelings-off,” I tell her. “Get with the program.”
“I’m just here to coo over your child and go home to a silent apartment with central air and zero bodily fluids.”
“Logan’s bodily fluids don’t count?” I tease.
She pretends to gag. “Absolutely not.”
Mallory laughs, deep and real. It makes me look at her again—really look. The soft under-eye circles, the faint creasebetween her brows that’s been there since the birth, the flush in her cheeks that has nothing to do with the sun.
“You good?” I ask her quietly.
She nods, but her lip wobbles. “I’m just… really happy you’re here. That everyone’s here.” Tears slip down her cheeks before she can stop them, and Ava just grins.
“See? Hormones. Crying at ducks and friends. Classic.”
“I hate you,” Mallory mumbles, wiping her eyes. She gets up to come lean into my side burying her face into my shoulder.
“Love you too,” Ava says, bouncing Lola gently. “But seriously, your baby is absurdly cute. Logan, tell them.”
Logan looks at Lola, then at us. “She’s cool. Like, she’d definitely make varsity one day.”
Mallory chuckles. “That’s high praise.”
I lean over and kiss the top of her head. The sun is high, and the air smells like new leaves and sugar and the beginning of something real.
For a second, I let myself believe we can keep this peace, that the game and the grind and the future can wait—at least for a little while.
Mallory
There’s something about Ava’shouse that always smells like luxury. Not just the money kind, though there’s definitely that—glass walls, plush rugs, wine fridge built into the kitchen island—but also the emotional kind. The kind of space built by two people who chose each other on purpose, with room for both chaos and comfort.
