didn’t work at the local production factory, he hated when the rest talked shop. “Anything but that.”
“Why?” Dan asked, his tone too serious. “Does the thought of real work scare you?”
Aiden glared over Lanie’s oblivious head, where she studiously worked on another masterpiece. “You know where you can go with that discussion.”
“Drop it.” Their dad glanced between his sons, his stare as firm as his voice. “We have company.”
Henrik was studying the sleeping baby who’d started to stir. He rubbed Nigel’s little back and whispered something in his ear.
Jacqui’s heart tumbled right along with her stomach. She came up to where he was sitting, smoothed her palm over his nape, and tried to let her fears go. There were times when she thought he was too good for her. Too trusting and open when she kept so much back.
“Is he still sleeping?” she asked quietly, taking a seat next to him. The conversation went on around them as Henrik shifted his tiny bundle to show Nigel’s cherub face.
“Yup.” His expression was soft, relaxed in that way she usually only saw when they were alone.
She stroked a hand down Nigel’s back, brushing over Henrik’s. All those dreams and forgotten wants lodged in her throat in a dry ache. Would she be able to have this with anyone? Babies and family and a future not tainted by her past?
“You’re good with him,” she managed to say after a few hard swallows. She reached for her glass and let the water soothe away the pain. She was being fanciful and silly. Eight weeks of sex and dating didn’t make a forever.
“Some of the guys have little kids.” He shrugged, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. “They’re nice.”
That got her attention. She took in his gentle expression, the lowered voice and simple statement. Kids didn’t judge. They accepted love freely and asked for nothing more than to be loved back. Was that what he was referring to?
“Yeah,” she agreed. He nuzzled his nose into Nigel’s little head, eyes closing with his inhale. Baby scent—something she thought only women appreciated. Her heart cracked and grew at the confirmation of how great of a dad he’d be.
She glanced away, eyes blinking rapidly to catch her mother watching her—them, a wistful smile on her lips and a shine in her eyes. Standing in the kitchen doorway, apron on, she was the pillar of strength that’d held their family together. The one who’d arranged schedules, managed the money and kept everyone from wallowing during Jacqui’s illnesses.
And all she wanted for her children was for them to be happy. To love and live and...all the things Jacqui had been afraid to really do for so long.
I love you, she mouthed to her mother, blinking back more tears that burned her eyes.
Her mother blew her a kiss, smiled and turned into the kitchen, swiping a quick hand over her cheek.
“She loves you very much,” Henrik said.
Jacqui jerked around, a smile breaking over her lips, warmed by the abundance of love surrounding her. This was her family. Her life. And Henrik was here, sharing it with her. A part of it.
“Yes,” she agreed, leaning in to rest her head on his shoulder, hand on his thigh. “She does.”
She scanned the table. Her dad sat at the end, his steady gaze softened by a gentle smile. Colin caught her eye and winked. Aiden’s small smirk held a reluctant approval. Dan’s single nod was all big brother acceptance. And Finn, well, Finn was Finn. He waggled his brows before breaking into a contagious grin.
“They all do,” she added, absorbing the amazing reality she’d always accepted but rarely stopped to appreciate.
“You’re lucky.”
“I am.” She squeezed Henrik’s thigh and looked up to meet his deep green eyes. “Very lucky.”
If only she could hang on to that luck and make a future with it.
Chapter Twenty
The familiar stench of sweat masked by cleaning agents hit Henrik’s nose the second he entered the changing room. He snagged a sports drink from the equipment manager, whipped his gloves onto the bench, but resisted the adolescent urge to toss his stick against the wall. Fuck.
Almost by magic, his stick was whisked from his hold by another efficient equipment guy. The timed choreography of players and staff was so smoothly executed the involved skill was lost in the post-game rhythm that was cranked out again and again.
He slumped down on the bench, hunching forward to drop his helmet on the floor. His sweat-drenched hair wrapped around his fingers