Page 4 of Puck Me at Midnight

“It was so much easier when I was just their goofy Uncle Spike, who spoiled them rotten. Now, everything I do, I have to think about how it’s going to affect the boys.” I glance back at the closed door, my chest tightening. “I hate leaving them,” I admit quietly. “When I’m on the road, it’s all I think—whether they’re okay, if they’re missing me, or if they’re afraid I won’t come back like their parents. If I could, I’d bring them with me everywhere.”

Emma’s expression softens. “That must be hard.”

“It is,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “We’ve got a stretch of road games coming up. I leave tomorrow. A week away from home. Are you sure you’re ready to be alone with the boys twenty-four hours a day? It’s only been a week, and everyone is still adjusting. The guys’ wives will check in, but it’s not the same.”

“The guys’ wives?” she asks, her curiosity evident.

“Yeah,” I say, leaning against the wall again. “Ryan’s wife, Paisley, she’s like the team mom. Always checking in, makingsure everyone’s taken care of. Which is hilarious when you get to know Paisley and her dislike of most people. Simon’s wife, Tuesday, is a little crazy, so she’s great with the boys. And Duke’s wife, Tilly, she’s got a way of making everything fun. They’ve been a huge help since…” I trail off, the words sticking in my throat.

“Since the accident,” Emma finishes softly, her eyes full of understanding.

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. They’ve stepped up in ways I can never thank them enough for. But it still feels wrong, you know? Like I should be the one here, not leaning on everyone else. Isn’t that why Tyler entrusted me with his kids?”

Emma reaches out, her hand brushing my arm lightly. The touch is brief but grounding. “You’re doing the best you can, Spike. And it’s okay to accept help. That’s what friends are for.”

I glance down at her hand before she pulls it back. I wish she was still touching me. “Yeah,” I say gruffly. “I know.”

The silence stretches between us, but it isn’t awkward. There’s a pull between us that just feels good to sit with. I clear my throat again, regrettably breaking the hold this feeling has on me. “I should, uh, let you get some rest. It’s a long day tomorrow.”

“Right,” she says, stepping back. “Goodnight, Spike.”

“Night, Emma.”

I watch her walk away, the soft sound of her footsteps fading as she disappears down the hall. For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the empty space she left behind. Then I turn back toward the boys’ room, cracking the door open just enough to peek inside. They’re both asleep, their little faces peaceful in the glow of the nightlight. Charlie’s still clutching his favorite stuffed dinosaur, and Sam has one arm slung over his pillow.

I step back and head to my room, but sleep feels a long way off. Instead, I sit on the edge of my bed, pulling out my phone toshoot a quick message to Paisley. She’s always been the one to coordinate things, so I let her know Emma’s settling in and that the boys seem to like her already. Her reply is almost immediate.

PAISLEY: That’s great! You deserve someone who can really help, Spike. And don’t worry, we’ve got your back while you’re on the road.

I stare at the screen for a moment before typing back.

Me:Thanks. Couldn’t do this without you guys.

Her response is a heart emoji, and I can’t help but smile. The team’s wives are something else. They’ve made meals, babysat, and even helped me navigate preschool enrollment for Sam. And while I’m grateful, it’s still hard to shake the feeling that I should be able to handle this on my own.

But watching Emma tonight, seeing how natural she is with the boys, I start to think maybe it’s okay to lean on someone else for more than just the day-to-day stuff. Maybe it’s okay to let her in for the emotional stuff too.

Even if it scares the hell out of me.

Chapter Four

Emma

I flip the pancake with a practiced flick of my wrist, watching the edges crisp up in the pan. The kitchen is warm with the smell of fresh pancakes and the soft laughter of the boys, who are already deep into their Saturday night routine. Sam is at the table, syrup on his cheek as he grins up at me, while Charlie is zooming around the living room, his little feet pounding against the hardwood floor as he chases after his toy car with his favorite dinosaur.

I chuckle softly, leaning over to pour more batter onto the griddle. “Easy there, Charlie,” I call, but I can’t help but smile. This chaos—this beautiful, loud chaos—feels normal now. It feels like home.

“Emma, pancake!” Sam calls again, his voice high and eager.

I quickly flip another pancake, the sizzle filling the quiet evening. “Coming right up, buddy.”

The door creaks open just as I’m sliding a stack of pancakes onto a plate. I glance over my shoulder and see Spike standing in the doorway. He’s back. I feel a flutter in my chest. It’s just Spike. There’s nothing unusual about it. Nothing at all.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice deeper than usual. He’s back from a series of road games, still carrying that exhaustion with him, but there’s also something else in his eyes that I can’t quite place. The air shifts when he steps into the room.

“Hi,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual. I turn back to the stove, focusing on flipping the pancake in front of me, but I can feel his gaze on me, lingering.

“Smells good in here,” Spike says, his voice warm, and I glance over my shoulder. “Pancakes for dinner?” He’s leaning against the doorframe, his duffel bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He’s a little rough around the edges— sporting a few new bruises, his hair tousled, stubble peppering his jaw. My stomach does a little flip when he looks at me.

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