"28,000 dollars a month, which is the minimum amount under Ohio state law taking both our salaries into account," he read aloud, each word heavy with the weight of financial obligation.

His eyes narrowed as he continued to read, "80/20 parenting where we'll alternate public holidays," and his jaw tightened at the thought of the limited time he would spend with his daughter under the court-ordered schedule. "Three phone or video calls a week," he muttered, the constraints of the arrangement cutting into the everyday moments he longed to share with Mia.

Santiago's frustration peaked as he reached a clause that seemed to stir deep emotions within him. "Parents must not give the child any detail about their romantic relationships. If either parent plans to marry, they must consult with the other parent on how and when to inform the child," he exclaimed, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

"And yet, I'm seeing videos of some leprechaun holding my daughter to feed ducks," Santiago spat out, his anger directed at the situation that seemed to be spiraling out of control. The reference to the mysterious "leprechaun" added a touch of sarcasm to his tone, emphasizing the absurdity of the restrictions imposed on their relationship.

Gloria, witnessing her son's frustration, attempted to offer some words of comfort. "Santiago, mi hijo, the legal process can be difficult, but it's meant to ensure fairness for both parties," she said, choosing her words carefully. Santiago, however, was not easily appeased.

"All I wanted to do was just help her so she didn't have to go back to work so soon," he admitted, his words heavy with the weight of his intentions. His mother, Gloria, listened attentively, recognizing the genuine desire he had to provide support.

"I always get it wrong," Santiago added, a hint of self-doubt coloring his tone. The complexities of co-parenting had proven to be a challenging terrain, and Santiago was grappling with the realization that his efforts might not always be met with the understanding he sought. "I just—I guess, I guess I thought we were getting somewhere, you know?" he confessed, his vulnerability laid bare.

Gloria, a source of comfort and wisdom, gently encouraged her son to communicate with Brittany. "Talk to her," she urged, her voice filled with maternal concern. "Don't respond in anger; you'll only both hurt Mia. Take a few hours, calm down, and talk to her." The advice carried the weight of experience, the kind that only a mother who had witnessed the complexities of relationships and family dynamics could offer.

As Santiago took a moment to absorb his mother's words, he recognized the truth in her words. The situation demanded a level-headed approach, free from the tumultuous currents of anger and frustration. The well-being of Mia, their shared priority, hung in the balance, and the need for effective communication became increasingly apparent.

With a heavy sigh, Santiago acknowledged the wisdom in his mother's advice. "You're right," he conceded, setting the legal document aside. "I need to talk to her, find some common ground, for Mia's sake." Gloria nodded, her eyes filled with understanding, and Santiago made a mental note to approach Brittany with the intention of fostering understanding rather than perpetuating discord.

Walking into his penthouse and initiated the call, fully aware that the conversation with Brittany wouldn't be an easy one. From the start, he could sense her reluctance to engage in a meaningful dialogue, evident in her short responses and attempts to divert the conversation by involving others.

"Hey, she's sleeping; you'll have to call back later," Brittany answered, indirectly indicating her preference for avoiding direct interaction. Determined to express his thoughts, Santiago persisted, "I actually wanted to talk to you." The line fell silent, with Brittany withholding her response. "Hello?" Santiago probed, prompting her to break the silence with a guarded, "What do you want to talk about?"

Santiago took a deep breath before broaching the sensitive topic. "I got everything yesterday from my lawyers," he began, but before he could delve deeper, Brittany interrupted, maintaining a defensive stance, "Then you should be talking to them, not me." Santiago, realizing the delicate nature of the conversation, acknowledged her sentiment with a simple, "No, I know."

In an attempt to bridge the emotional gap and convey his genuine intentions, Santiago continued, "I'm just—I always fuck everything up. I never wanted things to turn bad between us. I just wanted to help. Mia is also my responsibility, and through that, you are too. You are part of my family."

Brittany, though still distant, couldn't ignore the sincerity in Santiago's words. The realization that their paths were intricately woven through Mia's existence lingered in the air. Santiago, grappling with the consequences of his actions, sought a resolution that would prioritize harmony for Mia's sake.

As the conversation hung in the balance, Santiago hoped for a moment of understanding and empathy, yearning to rebuild the bridges that had now been strained by the legal proceedings. "I know this is a big ask," he began, acknowledging the potential reservations Brittany might harbor, "You'll probably say no, but our season ends on Sunday"

The mere mention of the season ending hinted at a shift in dynamics, a break from the routine that had defined their recent interactions. Santiago continued, his tone seeking understanding, "I've rented a place in the Bahamas for three weeks the week after next. Some friends will be there. Their girls too, so it's not a boys' trip." The inclusion of friends and a more relaxed setting seemed calculated, an attempt to assuage any concerns Brittany might have about the nature of the getaway.

"I wanted to extend the offer to you," he revealed, putting forth an invitation that carried implications beyond a simple vacation. Santiago's words held a subtle plea for shared experiences, for a chance to break away from the complexities and engage in a more relaxed environment. His voice carried a genuine hope as he continued to elaborate on the details of the Bahamas trip. "You can bring whoever you want," he assured, "There's tons of space," as if foreseeing potential worries about privacy or personal comfort.

His desire to ensure Brittany felt at ease was evident in the meticulous planning of the trip. The reassurance aimed to convey that her presence, along with any guests she chose to bring, would be seamlessly accommodated.

"There's a pool, and it's on the beach, and Mia's never been to the beach" he shared, infusing a touch of excitement into his voice. The mention of Mia introduced a familial aspect to the invitation, suggesting that the trip was not only an opportunity for personal connections but also a chance to create lasting memories for their daughter.

Santiago's offer, laced with sincerity and a genuine desire for shared experiences, lingered in the air. The tropical setting became a metaphorical bridge, a place where the complexities of their situation could momentarily fade away, allowing them to rediscover shared joy and perhaps find common ground.

Brittany, on the other end of the conversation, faced a decision that extended beyond a simple vacation choice, "yes." The simplicity of the response carried profound significance, a subtle shift in the currents of their relationship. In that moment, "yes" transcended its literal meaning; it became a bridge, a willingness to explore possibilities, and an acknowledgment that there was room for connection beyond the complexities they faced.

Ohio

"I'm thinking of this dress for an evening, it's light," Quinn mentioned, holding up a beautifully draped gown. She swiftly followed with another option, seeking Brittany's opinion. Brittany, with a playful twinkle in her eye, responded, "Why don't you take both? Santiago is paying for everything, so feel free to go heavy on the baggage."

However, their cheerful banter was abruptly interrupted by Sam's escalating protests from the living room. The escalating "No, no, no, no" caught their attention, and the room fell silent as they exchanged puzzled looks. The sudden change in tone left both women curious and concerned.

The tension was broken by Mia's unmistakable cry, a sound that tugged at their maternal instincts. Reacting swiftly, they both rushed downstairs to uncover the source of the commotion. Quinn shouting, "Mia! Sam, what have you done to Mia?"

Entering the room, they found Sam sitting on the couch, his eyes wide with shock and hand covering his mouth. Quinn's gaze moved from him to the television, and realization dawned. "Oh, this is bad, oh my god" he muttered, encapsulating the gravity of the situation.

Brittany's eyes followed Quinn's line of sight to the TV as the graphic replay of a player's ankle bending in an unimaginable way then snapping being the bone pop out sent shivers down their spines.

"That's gross, turn it off," Brittany urged swiftly picking up a crying Mia, shielding her innocent eyes from the distressing images. With her back turned to the TV, she caught the somber commentary from the broadcaster, "Poor guy, it's going to be a long recovery for Lopez."

In that moment, the atmosphere shifted, and a heavy silence settled, Brittany swiftly turned her head towards the television screen, only to witness the gut-wrenching scene unfolding. Santiago lay sprawled on the floor, a visceral expression of pain etched across his face, his anguished screams piercing the air. The sight sent shockwaves through Brittany, her eyes widening in horror as she clutched Mia closer to her chest, instinctively shielding her from the distressing spectacle.

As Santiago's screams reverberated through the room, the impact of the injury rippled beyond the television screen, seeping into the lives of those watching. The camaraderie and shared moments were momentarily eclipsed by the somber reality of the physical toll that professional athletes often endure. Brittany, holding Mia close, felt a knot of worry forming in her stomach—a shared sentiment with everyone witnessing Santiago's accident.

Brittany's hands trembled as she clutched her phone, desperately trying to contact Gloria. The ambient noise of the stadium filled her phone speakers as Gloria's voice crackled with concern, mirroring the anxiety that permeated the air. "we can't see anything, he's still down" Brittany responded, her words strained with the weight of the unfolding situation as relayed the distressing scene on TV to Gloria over the phone.

As Brittany paced nervously, the living room's atmosphere grew heavy with tension. Quinn cradled Mia, sensing the gravity of the moment, while the television screen continued to broadcast Santiago's anguish. The stretcher wheeled him off the field, his tear-filled face and guttural screams visible to the world. The vulnerability of the typically resilient athlete laid bare for everyone to witness.

Unable to tear her eyes away from the screen, Brittany felt a surge of empathy for Santiago, grappling with the realization that the man she cared deeply for was experiencing excruciating pain. The dynamics of the room shifted, and the celebratory atmosphere that once surrounded them was replaced by a somber acknowledgment of the human toll in professional sports.

Las Vegas

"Santi" Gloria's soft voice gently caressed his ears as her hand tenderly stroked his hair. Santiago's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sterile surroundings of a hospital room, the distant hum of machines providing a disconcerting soundtrack to his disoriented awakening. Beside him, Abeula, immersed in her fervent prayers delivered in Spanish, added a layer of comfort to the clinical atmosphere.

Every fiber of Santiago's being screamed in protest as he tried to shift, a guttural moan escaping his lips, a symphony of pain reverberating through his body. The symphony of medical professionals continued around Santiago as he navigated the haze between consciousness and the remnants of anesthesia.

The room brightened as he gingerly opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh hospital lights. The shuffle of doctors and nurses filled the space, their voices a measured cadence of reassurance. The air carried the sterile scent of antiseptic, a sensory reminder of his current predicament.

A calm voice, presumably the doctor's, reached Santiago's ears, promising relief through an IV-administered dose of painkillers. The weight of grogginess settled over him as the medication took effect, a soothing balm to the persistent ache. Questions floated in Santiago's mind, and he managed to articulate one: "Did I have surgery?"

The response confirmed his suspicion – a successful surgery on his broken ankle. Santiago's brows furrowed in confusion as he processed the information. "Was it bad?" he inquired, seeking clarity amidst the fog of post-surgery recovery.

His father's voice, a steady anchor in the swirling uncertainty, reassured him. "Yes, but you're fine now." Santiago felt a mixture of gratitude and relief wash over him. The gravity of the situation began to sink in – a broken ankle, surgery, and an unforeseen turn of events that altered the course of his immediate future and career.

As the medical professionals continued their work, Santiago's Abuela punctuated the scene with a muttered lament in Spanish, suggesting a sense of familial misfortune. In the midst of his discomfort and pain, Santiago couldn't help but smile at the familiar superstitions that lingered in his grandmother's expressions.

Gradually emerging remnants of anesthesia, a voice pierced through the haze, awakening him to a reality that was still settling. The familiar voice that belonged to Brittany. His bleary eyes traced her movements as she handed a coffee to his mother. The aroma of coffee wafted through the room, mingling with the sterile hospital scent.

"Oh, you're awake," Brittany greeted him with a warm smile as she settled into the chair beside his hospital bed. Santiago's confusion lingered, evident in the furrow of his brows. Brittany was here.

Santiago's gaze flitted around the room, taking in the sight of his mother and Brittany coexisting in this shared space. The hospital room, with its pristine white walls and medical equipment, felt like an unlikely backdrop for the convergence of two significant women in his life.

"Where am I?" Santiago's voice was a raspy murmur, the aftermath of anesthesia still lingering on his tongue. His mother, ever attentive, leaned in with a reassuring touch reminded him again "You're in the hospital, mi amor. Everything went well," she assured him in a soothing cadence, her love evident in the concern etched on her face.

Brittany, too, chimed in, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and genuine care. "The surgery was successful" she offered, her presence a testament to the support she was willing to extend during this unforeseen twist in their journey as she rubbed his arm.

Santiago's mind, clearing like the dissipating fog, began to process the pieces of the puzzle. He appreciated the duality of care – the maternal warmth of his mother and the unexpected, yet welcomed, support from Brittany.