Page 87 of Slap Shot Daddies

It feels as though everything is slipping away before I even had the chance to truly grasp it.

I swipe to our group chat, now eerily silent, the last message from Braden a simple thumbs-up emoji. That small, meaningless icon hits me with a force I can't explain.

I miss her. Kenzie. Her infectious laugh that could light up a room. The way her cheeks turn rosy when I tease her, a delightful blend of embarrassment and amusement. Her sharp, quick wit that keeps me constantly on my toes.

And Braden…damn, I miss him too.

I drum my fingers against my thigh, a futile attempt to steady my racing thoughts. But nothing about this moment feels stable. It's all unraveling, thread by thread, slipping through my grasp. I pull myself out of my thoughts enough to step outside for some fresh air.

Above, the stars are scattered like diamonds across the inky sky, twinkling with a clarity that almost takes my breath away.

I pause on the porch, tilting my head back, my hands buried deep in the pockets of my jacket. Each breath I take blooms into a cloud of mist in the chill, but the cold doesn’t faze me.

My thoughts turn to Kenzie, her eyes sparkling with excitement whenever she talked about her dreams of traveling, and how perfectly she seems to fit in the curve of my arm when we slept.

Then there's Braden, with his quiet strength and the way he shields us all with unwavering dedication, even when he’s hurting inside. And Ambrose, with his solid presence, gruff exterior, yet a warmth that radiates from beneath—a true protector, a father figure.

I swallow hard, the fear and excitement tangling in my stomach. It’s terrifying, yet for the first time in my life, I want something this much, and the longing feels both daunting and exhilarating.

My thumb hovers over the Instagram icon, a familiar ritual that seems to happen almost instinctively now.

I type in the name Brooks Bailey and press search. His page loads quickly, and bright, vivid photos flood my screen, each one a snapshot of a life filled with joy and love. There's Brooks, his grin wide and infectious, flanked by Ally and their trio of rambunctious children: Marcus, Elise, and Derek.

Each a perfect little chaos-maker in their own right.

I swipe through the images, pausing on one where Ally stands on the ice in her jersey, a beacon of balance and strength, holding Elise's tiny hand as the little girl wobbles uncertainly on skates, eyes wide with both fear and excitement.

Another photo shows Nick and Tyler, bundled up in puffy jackets, diligently constructing a snow fort in the backyard, while Brooks stands triumphant, holding up a steaming mug of hot chocolate as if he’s celebrating some small, but significant victory.

My finger lingers over a picture from their wedding in Cabo.

Ally dazzles in a mermaid dress that hugs her figure, while Brooks stands beside her, dashing in a sharp suit. Nick and Tyler are there too, steadfast by his side, a testament to the bonds they've formed.

I’ve always understood what this moment represents. It’s something everyone on the team has whispered about, a secret that isn’t really a secret.

But seeing it displayed so plainly in these images, it feels undeniable. It’s not strange, not scandalous. Instead, it radiates a sense of rightness.

Everything about it looks perfect, happy, and whole.

A pang hits me deep in my chest, resonating with longing. Could that be us one day? Me, Ambrose, Braden, if he decides to return, and Kenzie?

Would we fit together as seamlessly as they do?

I nibble on the inside of my cheek, regret lingering.

I want to reach out to Brooks, to ask him the questions swirling in my mind.

I need to.

But doubt creeps in.

What if I’m wrong?

What if he takes offense at my questioning and accuses me of prying?

I hesitate for a moment longer, my fingers hovering uncertainly over the screen, before I type.

With a deep breath, I hit send.

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