Page 29 of Her Hat Trick Daddies (Game On Daddies #3)

Shane

M y daughter.

Is this really happening? I mean, I want it to be real. I can’t wait to meet her, to know her, but I can’t let myself get too far ahead yet. Not until there’s proof. Not until I know for sure.

I’ve been burned badly before. Callie, that evil witch. She lied to my face about being pregnant, just to keep me from walking away. Who even does that? How screwed up do you have to be to play with someone’s life like that?

But Leighton isn’t Callie. I see that now.

It took me a damn minute. Too long if I’m being honest, but it’s clear as day.

Or as clearly as I can see through the haze of alcohol in my system.

God, and thinking back to how I acted earlier?

I’m such a fucking prick for going off on her like that. She didn’t deserve it.

After the three of us decide we’re standing by Leighton no matter what, David and Andy disappear. David’s probably crashing out for the night, and Andy’s most likely sacked out in one of the guest rooms.

I should do the same. I should shut my brain off and get some damn sleep. But I can’t. My mind is on overdrive, spinning out with everything that’s happening and what’s coming next. How the hell do I even start to prepare for this?

I need to stop thinking. Just stop for a few hours. So, I drag myself back to the bar and top off my whiskey. Then I top it off again. After that? It’s all kind of a blur.

Next thing I know, I’m waking up on the couch in David’s study.

It’s the middle of the night, pitch dark except for some faint glows here and there. My head’s pounding like a damn bass drum.

Boom… Boom… Boom…

I clutch my skull, like that’ll help. It doesn’t.

What also doesn’t help? The look on Leighton’s face, now burned into my soul, from when I was being a pompous jerk to her. I’ve been told by every team psychologist I’ve ever sat down with that I’ve got anger issues. Hell, I know it. I blow my top too fast, too often. But this time? With Leighton?

Yeah… I’d like to kick my own ass.

David looked about ready to do it for me. Honestly, I’d let him. I deserve it.

Leighton has been out here doing the hard shit, raising a kid by herself. Then she chooses to tell us when technically, she didn’t even have to. That had to be brutal. Especially with my mouthy ass. But she did it anyway.

She’s a better human than I could ever be. And she needs to be treated with respect… and love. And I promise to show her both.

It’s on me now not to fuck this up again. I’m so damn lucky to have even had Leighton. And I’m lucky David brought me onto this team a couple of years back when I was spiraling after Callie played me for a fool. He saved me back then.

Now, it’s my turn to step up. David is counting on me. And so are Leighton and little Luna.

I stay up the rest of the night running these thoughts through my head on repeat, trying to picture all the ways our future can play out. When the first light of dawn filters through David’s tall windows, I get up and start searching for Leighton.

Nothing downstairs. So I head up to the second floor.

Still no sign of her. And no Andy, either.

Did he leave? Did she leave?

I’m heading toward David’s room when he steps out into the hall. The second he sees me, his mouth tightens into a hard line.

Yeah, still pissed at me. No surprise.

I rub the back of my neck. “I fucked up last night with Leighton.”

David doesn’t sugarcoat. “No argument there.”

“She still here? I need to talk to her. ”

“She left a little while ago, Andy shortly after. She had to pick up her daughter from whoever’s babysitting. You just missed them.”

Of course I did. “She’s never gonna forgive me,” I mutter, more to myself than him.

But David answers anyway. “Not if you don’t apologize. And mean it. If we’ve got any shot with her at all, you have to fix your screwup. Unless you’re out?”

“Not a chance.”

“You sure?” David presses, staring me down. He’s always been a no-nonsense guy, but I’ve never seen him this damn serious.

“I’m sure,” I answer, holding his gaze.

***

After a quick shower at home, I hit the road with a million plans running through my head. My fucking headache is still there, but the microwavable sausage biscuit I inhaled in the car helped a lot. Total lifesaver. I’m on zero sleep and need all the help I can get to think straight today.

I’ve got a whole list of shit to do, stuff I barked at Siri to remind me of all day. Plus, I keep reminding myself we’ve got a home game tomorrow night, and then we’re flying out Thursday for our next away game. I have to get these deliveries lined up before all that starts.

Then it hits me. I need to warn someone about these deliveries. I can’t just have them dumped in shipping and receiving like regular packages.

Do I call Cecille? Shit. I don’t want it to be obvious. I’ll have to come up with some half-baked excuse so she doesn’t catch on.

With no better option, I grit my teeth and dial.

Straight to voicemail.

Of course.

“Hey, Cecille. Just a heads-up, I’m having some things delivered to Leighton Jennings’ office. I know she’s not always in there, so could you or someone else grab them for me? It’s kind of important she gets everything on time.”

Five minutes later, she calls back.

“Hey, Shane. Got your message.”

“Hey, yeah. Thanks for calling back.”

“What exactly are these deliveries?”

“It’s a bunch of different things. Gifts as a thank you for helping me with something really important,” I add, hoping that’ll curb her curiosity and bump it up her priority list.

“Well, none of us have keys to the individual offices.”

Oh. Damn.

“Ah, shoot. Okay.”

There goes my plan to make this grand gesture a surprise .

“Are any of these items perishable?” Cecille asks, her tone a little sly . Oh, she’s definitely on to something.

And yeah, some of them are perishable. Others aren’t exactly perishable, but they’re fragile, so… same difference.

“Yeah, actually.”

“In that case, I’ll ask the facilities manager to help. He’s got keys to every office.”

Of course he does. Cecille is always on top of her game.

“Awesome. Thank you. Seriously.”

“No problem.”

So, with that little kink hopefully sorted, I spend, like, half my morning glued to the phone, calling every shop, bakery, and restaurant I can think of, trying to line everything up for times when I think Leighton might be in her office.

No clue if I’m getting it right, but I’m crossing my fingers.

Then I sit down and write out this whole damn speech for myself and start memorizing it like I’m back in high school drama class or something.

Everyone likes to say I’m just a dumb jock, but hey—this is where that business degree finally comes in handy. I do way better when I’ve got a plan… when I’ve practiced instead of just winging it.

Obviously. I’m sure Leighton’s picked up on that by now, especially after my stellar reaction to her dropping the news of her daughter on us.

My daughter .

Shit. I don’t know the first thing about her or toddlers in general.

What if I meet her and she looks at me and immediately starts crying?

What if I try to feed her and she dodges every single airplane spoon I send toward her mouth like she’s some kind of mini ninja?

Do toddlers even eat normal food? I have no idea.

I’ve still got thirty minutes before I need to hit the ice for practice, so naturally, I start googling the dumbest things:

What do two-year-olds eat?

What size is a two-year-old?

What words can a two-year-old say?

Can a two-year-old hold a hockey stick?

I mean… that last one feels important.

The more I read, the more panicked I get, but at least it helps me think of something else to send to Leighton’s office. So I call up another shop and set that up, too.

Okay. I can figure this out. I have to figure this out. I’ve got money and I’ve got connections. I can provide whatever Luna needs, right?

Even if I don’t know anything right now, I can learn. I just have to treat this like training. Study hard, put in the reps, and practice until it becomes second nature. That’s all this is. Just… you know, with a baby instead of a puck.

If I approach this like hockey, maybe, just maybe, I won’t totally blow it.