Page 25 of Second Goal

A smile pulls at my lips and Noah grins up at me like it was his plan all along to exasperate his mother.

“Park. Park.” He claps his hands as Brynne and I work as a team to get him into his jacket, then strap him into the stroller.

“There are snacks and drinks in the bag.” She looks ready for a nap, and when she stands, I see the slight rounding of her belly and wonder if there’s another reason she’s been so tired lately.

My grin spreads.

“What?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

I shrug. “Nothing. I just wondered if... are you pregnant again?”

“No,” she says quickly, like it’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever said to her. But then her cheeks lose their color, and her eyes widen. “Oh. Shit.”

I chuckle and hand Noah a cracker when he starts to squirm. “I can pick up a test while I’m out.”

She shakes her head. “I still have some from before. But I’m not... I can’t be. I mean, I can. But...” She groans.

Noah starts squirming in the stroller. “Go. Park. Now.”

“Okay, buddy,” I say, pushing the stroller toward the door, and giving Brynne a sympathetic smile. But she’s already making a bee-line for the bathroom.

A smile stretches across my lips as I take the elevator down. I know Brynne will be a bit freaked out if she is pregnant. But I also know that if she is, there isn’t a luckier kid to have parents like her and Kane.

I might not connect with my brother, but one thing I’m sure of, he’s an amazing dad. Noah and Brynne are his whole world, and this kid would be no different.

“What do you think?” I say to Noah when we’re outside. “Are you going to be a big brother?”

His brows scrunch down and he gives me a look that reminds me so much of Kane. And I laugh.

It’s not that cold today, the snow from last night is gone, and the sun peeks out from behind gray clouds, warming my cheeks. The park is packed with caregivers and kids of all ages, and when I let Noah out of the stroller, I understand immediately why Brynne was thinking about getting one of those kid leashes.

He bolts toward the swings, nearly getting knocked down from a child being pushed on the big kid swings. I grab him a second before the kid’s feet collide with Noah’s head.

“You’re trouble, aren’t you,” I tell him, kissing his cheek.

Noah laughs and points. “Kai-ee. Swing.”

“Okay.” It’s the least dangerous thing here, and it also means I can contain him. I place his chubby legs through the plastic holes, then give a small push.

“High, high.”

“Already an adrenaline junkie,” I tease, pushing him higher and making him squeal with laughter.

I smile and take in a deep breath. Everything is good. At least right now, in this moment, it is. And for the first time in forever, I don’t feel like the universe is about to swallow me whole.

Until I see her.

Blonde pigtails bounce as she skips toward the playset, big blue eyes that are so familiar sparkle as she starts an animated conversation with another kid her age.

A rush of cold fills me.

I blink. Once. Twice. Expecting her to disappear like the ghost she is.

But she doesn’t.

She’s here.

Lucy.

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