Page 30 of Her Hat Trick Daddies (Game On Daddies #3)

Leighton

A fter a night packed with so many ups and downs, I might as well have strapped into a rollercoaster. Driving back to Ava’s should be uneventful. But it isn’t.

The second I peek in and see Luna still sleeping in her little portable bed in Trevor’s room, my heart melts, and I’m one breath away from bursting into tears.

Ever since the second I found out I was pregnant, everything I’ve done has been about her. Every decision, every sacrifice, it’s all been about trying to do the right thing. That’s always been my compass, my North Star.

But Shane’s reaction to Luna’s existence?

That hits different. It’s not the horror I braced for in my worst nightmares, and it’s sure as hell not the happy fantasy I let myself hope for either.

His anger unlocks something I didn’t expect.

It makes me think about Ava. About what she went through with Dean.

Not because Shane is anything like Dean—I know that—but still, I can’t ignore the red flags when they’re waving right in my face .

The biggest? That temper. Fast and furious.

Just picturing the rage on Shane’s face makes my stomach knot up all over again.

I used to think Dean was the scummiest guy alive, but Ava always insisted he wasn’t that bad.

Now I know she was covering for him, making excuses because she loved him, even when the love wasn’t good for her.

Dean started out charming and turned into something else entirely over time.

And yeah, David keeps insisting Shane isn’t dangerous.

That he’s a good guy. That he’s never hurt anyone because he was always the one getting hurt growing up.

But how do I know? How can I really know?

Shane’s fuse is short. And I’ve known him, what?

A handful of hours outside the bedroom. What do I actually know about him beyond sex?

He’s a first-string forward for the Avalanche.

He drinks whiskey. He wore a wolf mask to a masquerade and swept me right off my feet.

That’s pretty much it.

Not that we’ve ever even been in his actual bedroom.

What a complete disaster. Leave it to me to get pregnant by a stranger, only to find out he’s the least dependable of the three. He was also the least ready to hear that he might have a daughter. My judgment in men? As outstanding as ever.

Will I ever find love? I was so stupid to think I could have David, Andy, and Shane. But let’s be real. Whatever this is with them… it’s not healthy. Not even close. It’s a train wreck no matter how you slice it .

And the worst part? I keep making the same damn mistakes. Sleeping with them three years ago at the masquerade ball, without checking for cameras, was reckless enough. But hooking up again now? David in the video room, Andy in the locker room, and then all three last night?

It’s textbook insanity—doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. That’s me to a T. Someone bring on the straitjacket and padded cell.

I could’ve done this completely differently. Invited them to dinner, actually talked, gotten to know them. But nope. Sex, sex, and more sex. My fucking hormones took over. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?

Do I know their favorite colors? Nope. Their middle names? No clue. Do they have other kids? God, I have no idea. They could, but based on what I’ve seen, I doubt it. A man with kids wouldn’t act like that.

God, I am such an idiot.

I’m so glad I only have to go in for half a day today. I fully plan to avoid the guys like they’re a walking plague. I just want to get home, curl up with Luna, and pretend none of this happened.

But Ava isn’t letting me off the hook that easily.

“Hey, Leigh. You really thought you could sneak out of here without talking to me?” she calls as I tiptoe out of the room.

“You know me too well,” I sigh, trying to play it off with a smile.

“Kitchen. Now. Spill. ”

So I do. I tell her everything. She listens, her expression shifting from shock to sympathy to something protective.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice soft. “So… none of them want to meet Luna?”

“David and Andy weren’t awful. They said we’ll ‘figure it out together,’ whatever that means. But I don’t know if that’s a good idea anymore.”

She tilts her head. “Do you regret telling them?”

That one hits harder than I expect.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Not telling them would be wrong. But telling them also seems… I don’t know.”

“Give them time. I’m sure they’ll come around,” Ava says gently.

I nod, but inside, I’m not so sure. And I know she isn’t either.

Do I regret telling them? All I have are more questions.

Should I have done it differently? One at a time, maybe?

David first? He seemed the most grounded.

Or maybe I never should’ve left Jersey in the first place. Things were simpler there. Safer.

Yes, this job is flashier, the paycheck is better, the title fancier. But what does any of that matter if Luna isn’t surrounded by people who love her?

In Jersey, I had Dad. I had Wyatt—overprotective, nosy, sometimes a pain in the ass—but still, her uncle. Her family. Our safety net.

Here, I have Ava. Thank god. And Sven, Levi, and Eric, sort of. But it’s not the same. That’s her family. And while I love them all, while I know they love her… it’s different. It feels different. Like I’m borrowing warmth from someone else’s fire instead of building my own.

But going back would feel like quitting. Like waving a white flag. I moved out here to be brave. To give us something more. And even if it didn’t go perfectly, I’m still standing. Still trying.

After Ava’s, I take Luna home. I feed her breakfast, give her a bubble bath, and when I’m drying her off, she snuggles against me in her towel, laying her head on my shoulder and murmuring, “Mama, mama, mama.”

My heart cracks a little wider.

“Wanna play in your bouncy after we get dressed?” I sing to her, brushing my lips against her damp hair.

Her feet kick excitedly, and she beams up at me. “Bow-sy!” she claps.

I bite back the sting in my throat and blink hard before getting her dressed. I strap her into the bouncy swing and gulp a glass of water to steady myself, then head to the kitchen to make some iced coffee.

“Mama,” she calls.

I turn around, bracing myself.

“Yes, baby?”

She points at her swing. “More.”

I hadn’t even realized it had stopped. And even though my chest feels like it’s caving in, I smile. A big, wide, bright smile just for her, and I walk over to start it again .

“More bouncy for my girl,” I whisper, kissing her forehead.

Because whatever storm I’m weathering, she doesn’t need to feel it.

***

My mood hasn’t lifted much by the time I trudge into work that afternoon.

With a game tomorrow night, I’ll be working late, and while I used to look forward to commentating NHL games, now I’m dreading it.

I won’t be speaking directly to the players, but David, Andy, and Shane will be front and center.

Just the thought of being near them feels like trying to walk through a minefield blindfolded.

I duck my head as I enter Ball Arena, caught in a spiral of thoughts. A couple of texts sit unread on my phone—one from Andy, one from David. It’s nice. Maybe it’s a sign that they meant what they said?

David: Hope you’re okay.

Andy: Thinking about you.

They should help, but they don’t. Not completely anyway.

Should I start thinking about what comes next? Should I start making plans to go back to Jersey? I’m so deep in my head, I almost miss Cecille coming around the corner.

“How are you this fine day?” she chirps with unusual pep .

I force a smile, one I hope passes for optimistic. “It’s almost game day.”

“Yes, it is,” she replies, falling into step beside me as if she means to follow me into my office. Not typical Cecille behavior, but maybe she’s just headed in the same direction.

“You need anything?” I ask, gently nudging her toward wherever she’s actually going.

Her smile widens. “Not really.”

Okay then.

I unlock my office and step inside.

And freeze.

For a moment, I think I’ve walked into the wrong room.

But no. This is my office. What’s different is the explosion of color and fragrance.

Bouquets, dozens of them, flood the space.

Red roses. Maroon. Yellow. White. Blue. Purple.

Every shade I’ve ever seen and a few I didn’t even know roses came in.

“Who…?” I spin around, jaw dropped.

Cecille just beams. “The ones on your desk have a card.”

Still stunned, I approach the center arrangement—deep maroon roses in a gleaming crystal vase. A small, stuffed pink pig with a black bow is attached. I already know Luna will love it.

The card reads:

Leighton,

I’m sorry for acting like such a jerk .

Please give me a chance to explain. Give me a chance to show you and Luna the real me.

You deserve more. And I want to be the one to show you how.

Love,

SJ

Shane Jacobson . I’m sure he left only his initials to avoid any outside speculation, but there’s no mistaking the affection behind this gesture. The tightness in my chest loosens, just a little. It’s sweet. Thoughtful. Unexpected.

Cecille catches the look on my face and winks. “This isn’t my first rodeo, hon. Looks like Barb and I have some behind-the-scenes work to do today. Enjoy.”

And by work , she means cover-up . According to Ava, Barb is basically the Olivia Pope of corporate clean-up. If something needs disappearing, her team makes it vanish so fast, you’d swear it never existed.

She breezes off, and I just stare at the roses like they might bloom into answers.

And then one does. I spin on my heel. “Cecille, wait!”

She stops and turns. “What’s up?”

“Do you have a few minutes? I need to run something by you.”

She checks her watch, then flashes a grin. “Sure. ”

Back in my office, I shut the door behind us. “This might be awkward, but… thie display in here? It’s kind of telling, right?”