Page 11 of Hat Trick Holidate

Starting a new job.

Finding a full- time job.

Putting myself out there to find friendships.

Never finding love.

Freaking Scary.

Roman appears in the doorway. “Hey, I brought take out.”

“From where?”

“Local place, but you’ll thank me,” he says.

I can already smell the Italian spices. My mouth waters as he flips the lid on what looks like gnocchi with mushrooms in an Italian cream sauce. He opens the other box filled with lobster ravioli.

I grab two plates, and we share a little of each. But therustic loaf of bread and the herbed olive oil served with it can’t compare to any other bread I’ve ever had. We’re half Italian, so I consider myself an expert. My dad’s Nona passed down recipes, which prompts me to get up and dig in the box of mementos to find the recipe book.

After I find it, I lay it on the table between us, flipping through, and my brother says, “How are you?”

“Me? How are you?”

He stabs the gnocchi with his fork. The metal hits the plate several times before he scrapes a bite into his mouth. “It’s been eight months, and I’m still in shock. Last weekend, I went out with a few of the guys, and I planned on… you know… getting laid by a puck bunny. But I couldn’t. It’s fucked me up. I’ve been told I’m pretty good looking by women other than Penelope. If I meet someone, do they want me because I’m a starting winger for the Georgia Jets, or do they want to get to know me for me? These are things most of the guys deal with, but it’s new for me. I never had to worry about Penelope’s intentions since we had dated for so long.”

He leans back in the chair and sighs. The hate I’ve been holding onto since Grant walked out on me eight years ago isn’t healthy, but only one person has lessened the blow to my heart and my self-esteem—Bryce Wynward. “I’ll never forgive Grant and Penelope for what they did to us.” I grab his arm and lay my head on it. “You’re a catch, and I guess it will take time for you to realize it.”

“Oh, I realize it, but that doesn’t mean the women have good intentions.” He chuckles as I punch his cocky ass. “So, Wynward asked me for your number in case he needs a sitter. His little girl is adorable,” he says with a hint ofsadness. We both thought we would have a family and kids by now. “I hope that’s okay. He’s not the type of guy I want you hanging around. Watching Jolie at a game is one thing, but he goes through women quicker than a mouse goes through a house made of cheese.”

This is why I love my brother. He makes me laugh, and I’m not sure how we could get through life without each other. But we both want more—intimacy, trust, and children. I cackle, “Mouse house?”

I wouldn’t mind being a piece of cheese for Bryce Wynward to nibble on again.

five

BRYCE

When I wakeup this morning, Jolie is still asleep, so I run on my Peloton, do pull-ups, sit ups, and lift weights. After a quick shower, I check her room, and she’s gone. My heart rate picks up as I yell her name. No answer. I yell again, “Jolie,” as I run down the steps and find her in the kitchen, standing on a chair with one knee on the counter, reaching for the cabinet door.

“Jolie!” She startles, leaning backwards, tipping the chair, and I catch her in my arms before she hits the ground. I don’t realize how tight I’m squeezing her until she lets out a gasp.

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