Page 147 of The Risk Taker

I sink further into the couch, my sketchpad resting on my legs, trying to focus on the panel I’ve been stuck on since last night. The comic’s basically done, but I keep tweaking shit that doesn’t need fixing.

Logan wanders over and glances at the page. “You done yet?”

“Almost,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’ve gotta send it in next week.”

He hums and flops down beside me on the couch, his thigh pressing against mine. “You gonna credit me, Hayes?”

I glance over at him, narrowing my eyes. Doesn’t matter that we’ve been married for six months and my last name’s officially Gray now—he still calls me Hayes.

“And where exactly was your involvement?”

He grins around the rim of his mug. “You still don’t wanna admit you based the whole thing on me?”

I roll my eyes but don’t deny it. I mean, what’s the point? It’s about a closeted hockey player falling for his loudmouth teammate. Real subtle, I know. The guy in the panels has Logan’s hair, Logan’s green eyes, and is annoying, loyal, and impossible not to love.

Just like the real thing.

“Shit,” Logan mutters, jolting slightly. “My phone’s buzzing. Can you grab it?”

I reach over and grab mine too, since it lights up at the same time. Two new messages from Isabella. I swipe it open without thinking, half expecting a text in the group chat.

But it’s not that.

The second the photo loads, everything inside me stills.

My chest tightens as I stare at the screen, trying to catch up to the fact that this—this tiny little face staring back at me—is real.

He’s bundled tight in one of those scratchy hospital blankets, his skin all pink and blotchy and his hair’s so dark and full, poking out from beneath the smallest gray knit beanie I’ve ever seen. It looks like something meant for a doll. I can’t stop looking at it.

Isabella’s in the frame too, holding him close. His smile is wide and kind of lopsided, looking delirious with joy and stillcatching her breath. I can tell she’s exhausted, but no doubt happy as hell.

Ryan’s standing beside them, tears running down his face.

“Holy shit,” Logan says as we stare down at the picture. “He’s perfect.”

I nod slowly. “That’s my nephew.”

He leans in and presses his chin gently to my shoulder, peering at the screen like he’s taking it in with me. “Your little sister’s a mom.”

“Yeah.” I blink hard, my eyes burning. “And my dad’s a grandpa.”

I can’t even imagine how my dad is feeling right now. None of us were expecting the baby to come today since the due date wasn’t for another week. I can’t stop thinking about how fast it must’ve happened. How my parents are probably speeding toward the hospital right now.

Logan snorts. “He’s gonna lose his shit buying baby clothes.”

I huff out something like a laugh too. “He already has,” I tell him. “The old man already bought a hockey jersey.” I shake my head, glancing up at Logan. “Did you know they make jerseys for babies?”

“That’s cute as shit,” Logan says with a laugh, nudging my knee with his. “Can you imagine?”

I smile, letting myself lean back into the couch, the image forming before I can stop it.

“You ever think about having kids?” I ask before I can stop myself.

His brow arches slightly. “Like… today?”

I huff out a laugh, my lips twitching. “No, dumbass. Just… in general.”

Logan’s quiet for a second, thinking. “I used to think I’d be a disaster of a dad.”