Page 13 of Broad Shoulders

The only “issue” is that it’s a big family home, more room than I need right now. But as I study each photo, I can’t help but populate the empty spaces with possibilities. Kai taking his first steps across that living room. Alana and I cooking together in the kitchen, bumping hips as we move around each other. The three of us having breakfast on the lanai, watching the sunrise.

I know it’s reckless, buying a house this quickly. Making such a big and expensive decision when I haven’t been here very long. But, hell, I have the savings. Baseball paid well, and I was always smart with my money—saving more than I spent, investing smartly enough to build a comfortable cushion.

Some decisions in life you overthink. Others you just feel in your gut. This house—it’s not just four walls and a roof. It’s a declaration. A promise set in concrete and wood. A clear message to Alana, to her skeptical mother, and to myself, that I’m not going anywhere.

“This place is gorgeous. All this natural light…” Alana says, turning in a slow circle. Kai is strapped to her chest, his arms and legs bouncing happily. “You really lucked out finding a rental like this.”

I lean against the doorframe, watching her explore. It’s been a week since I first walked through this house and less than a day since the seller accepted my offer. We’re still under contract—closing is thirty days out—but I convinced the realtor to let me show Alana around.

For the last twenty minutes, I’ve enjoyed watching her take in every detail of the house. I’ve watched the way her eyes lingered on the mountain view, how she nodded approvingly at the spacious rooms, and savored the small gasp she let out when she stepped onto the lanai.

“It’s not a rental,” I say, unable to hold back any longer.

She turns, her brow furrowing. For a second, she doesn’t get it. Then her eyes widen.

“You bought this place?” The words come out like she can’t quite believe them.

I nod, smiling. “What do you think, Alana? Did I make the right decision?”

She takes another look around, like she’s seeing it all differently now. When her eyes meet mine again, she looks slightly dazed, but there’s something else there too. Something that makes my heart pound harder.

“Can I see Kai’s room?” she asks, a smile spreading across her lips.

While waiting for the house to close, I fly home to pack up my place and get rid of everything I don't want to bring to Hawaii. Most of my stuff stays behind—furniture that looks too dark and heavy for island living, clothes I haven't worn in years, and awards that can stay in storage. The memories matter more than the hardware.

The things I actually want to keep, I pay to have shipped over. Not much—some clothes, a few photos, my baseball from my first major league home run. This time, when I land in Hawaii, the humid air wrapping around me doesn't feel temporary or unfamiliar. It feels like I've arrived home.

I'll admit I may go a bit overboard with furnishing the new house. But I want it ready for Alana and Kai to feel comfortable here, not like they're visiting a half-empty bachelor pad. The first week after closing is a blur of deliveries—a crib and changing table for Kai's room, a comfortable sectional that can fit all three of us, a bunch of kitchen stuff I never bothered with before. I even install safety latches on the cabinets, though Kai isn't crawling yet. Better to be prepared.

Now it’s finally time for them to see the finished result. In preparation for their visit, I stock the fridge and spend the afternoon putting together my mom’s meatball casserole. It’s nothing fancy, just ground beef, pasta, and a whole lot of cheese, but it’s the best thing I know how to make.

A knock at the door sends a jolt through me. I wipe my hands on a dish towel and head for the entrance.

“Hey,” I say, pulling the door open. “Come on in.”

Alana walks in with Kai on her hip, then stops abruptly. Her mouth drops open as she takes in the transformed space—no longer the empty shell she saw a month ago.

“How did you do all this?” she asks, turning to look at the fully furnished living room. “You just moved in.”

I shrug. “When I’m determined to get something done, I do it.”

She follows me into the kitchen, where I pull the casserole from the oven. The cheese on top bubbles, golden-brown and perfect.

“That smells incredible,” she says, leaning closer.

“It’s my mom’s recipe. Hope you’re hungry.”

We settle at the dining table with full plates. I’ve set up a bouncy seat next to the table for Kai, but when Alana tries to put him in it, his face crumples and he lets out a wail of protest, tiny arms reaching back toward her.

“Someone’s not having it tonight,” she says, trying to soothe him.

“Here, I’ll take him.” I reach for Kai and lift him onto my lap, balancing him against my chest while reaching for my fork. He immediately grabs a fistful of my shirt, his crying stopping as quickly as it started.

Alana takes a bite of the casserole and her eyes widen. “You said this is your mom’s recipe?”

“Yep. She made this all the time during baseball season. Said I needed the protein.” I cut another bite while keeping Kai steady with my other arm. “The secret’s in the three cheeses.”

She nods toward Kai, who’s staring at my fork as I bring it to my mouth. “Looks like someone wants a taste.”

---