Page 35 of Stealing Home

“Because,” Evan said quietly. “This isn’t about sex. It’s about you deciding what the rest of your life is going to look like because five weeks ago everything you knew changed.”

Dom looked at him for a long moment. The room fell silent, and he took another sip of coffee. His breakfast sat half-finished beside it, forgotten during their conversation. With a quiet sigh, he pulled out one of the chairs at the small table and sat across from Evan, resting his forearms on the scratched surface. CJ, still holding Dom’s sleeping daughter against his shoulder, moved from the armchair to the third chair at the table. No one spoke for a few seconds, and Dom stared at the wood grain beneath his hands.

“I get it,” Evan said. “I spent years convincing myself I didn’t need anybody.”

Dom frowned. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” Evan glanced at CJ. “I told myself I was happier alone and that having baseball and friends was enough.” He shrugged one shoulder and tapped his fingers on the table. “The truth is, it was easier to believe I didn’t want anything than admit I was afraid I would lose it again.”

CJ spoke next, his voice quieter than usual. “I was ready to spend the rest of my career pretending to be someone I wasn’t.”

Dom looked over, and CJ shrugged. “I had it all figured out.”

“You also had a terrible plan,” Evan muttered.

“It was an awful plan,” CJ agreed. “Still a plan.”

“Okay,” Dom said slowly. “But you both thought you were protecting yourselves. I’m not protecting myself. I’m just making Lucia my priority.”

“You have,” CJ said emphatically. “You changed the entire organization because they assumed players with kids would have the mothers around to do all of the heavy lifting, and they didn’t have any resources for single dads. Now there’s a daycare both here and at home.”

CJ reached out and clasped Dom’s shoulder. “You did that. Everything you’ve done since she came into your life has been to make sure she never wonders if she’s your first priority.”

“She won’t,” Dom said fiercely. His eyes stung and the back of his throat started to tickle. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just… I already missed the first three weeks of her life.” He looked at them, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling. When he spoke again, his voice was barely over a whisper. “I didn’t know she existed. I can’t get back the weeks before I knew about her, and I can’t get back all of the months I should have had to get ready for her.”

Dom reached for his daughter and pressed his lips to the side of her head when she was settled on his chest. “I keep thinking…” He swallowed. “What if I meet someone and I miss something because I’m paying attention to them instead of her?”

“You’re acting like loving someone someday would mean loving Lucia less.” Evan shrugged. “It doesn’t work like that.”

Dom opened his mouth, then closed it again. Logically, he knew they were right. Emotionally was another story. He was still figuring out how to be a father. Balancing that with a relationship felt impossible. Hell, he’d never been particularly good at relationships. They’d always seemed to come at the wrong time or demand more than he knew how to give. Or they quietly fell apart while he was convincing himself he could fix it later.

Now there was Lucia. Every decision he made started and ended with her. The thought of asking someone else to fit into a life he was still trying to figure out himself—or worse, failing them because he couldn’t—made something in his chest tighten. If he’d struggled to make a relationship work before, what chance did he have now? It was better not to start. Better to know where his priorities were.

“I don’t know how to do both,” he admitted.

“You don’t have to figure it out today. We’re just saying don’t make an eighteen-year promise when you’ve only been a dad for five weeks,” Evan said. He stood from the table and stretched, his back cracking like bubble wrap. “Ready?”

Dom watched as CJ grabbed Lucia’s diaper bag and Evan grabbed Dom’s duffel, and he shook his head with a smile. His best friends, his daughter, and a day of baseball waiting for him. Life was pretty good, even if it was confusing as hell. And somewhere back in San Diego was a man renovating the house where his life would eventually make sense again.

He tucked his phone into his pocket and adjusted Lucia against his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he said.

For the first time in weeks, he actually meant it.

7

GAVIN

Gavin walked through the house for the third time. Nothing had changed since the last lap: the hardwood floors were still flawless, the cabinet doors still lined up perfectly, and the paint had dried exactly the way it was supposed to, with crisp edges where the walls met the trim. The lights all worked, and he hadn’t forgotten to install any of the outlet covers. Every item on his punch list had been crossed off, but he stopped in the middle of the living room anyway.

His gaze swept over the room again, searching for…something. A scuff he’d missed or a crooked piece of trim. Anything. He didn’t find it. The house was ready, and there was nothing left to do. Which was probably why he kept looking for things.

Gavin headed upstairs again, running a hand along the new oak banister he’d installed. It was smooth and solid beneath his palm, the way it should be in a house with a kid who might want to slide down it someday. He stepped into Lucia’s room and looked around one last time. It was still as empty as it had been, except for the box with the crib in it. It had been delivered a few days ago, and he’d moved it up here instead of leaving it in the garage. He could have assembled it and had considered asking Dom if he should, but in the end, he’d left it alone. It felt like something a father should get to do, and Dom had missed too many of those moments already.

He pulled his phone out as he headed back downstairs, even though it hadn’t made a sound. Dom’s flight should have landed by now, but no messages were waiting. Dom was moving in that night, and they already had plans for Gavin to meet him at the house so he could hand over the keys, go through the renovations, and officially close out the job. That was the plan. Which made it a little ridiculous that he kept looking at his phone every few minutes like Dom was going to text him when he landed. Gavin shoved the phone back into his pocket before he could question why he’d checked it in the first place.

He looked around the living room again, as if something might have changed in the few minutes he’d been upstairs. Nope. Still perfect. He made his way into the kitchen. The folder he’d left on the kitchen island was already in order, but he opened it and flipped through it one more time. Final invoice, appliance warranties, paint colors, and care instructions for the hardwood floors. Everything was exactly where he’d put it. He closed the folder, squared it with the edge of the island, then frowned and nudged it another quarter inch.