Page 34 of Her Hat Trick Daddies (Game On Daddies #3)

Shane

W hat was I so nervous and scared about?

I can’t believe this sweet little girl is mine.

Mine. I’m doing everything I can to hold it together, blinking hard to keep the sting of tears at bay while she snuggles closer, all warm and trusting.

I wasn’t prepared for this… this flood of emotion that hits the second you realize you’re looking at your own child.

My heart’s already gone, and I know without a doubt she’s going to have me wrapped around her tiny little fingers in no time.

But more than that, there’s this deep, primal need roaring through me, a fierce, unshakable instinct to protect her. My baby. From everything and everyone. There isn’t a force on earth that’ll bring her harm if I’ve got anything to say about it.

And fuck, the way Leighton’s standing there, her eyes a little glassy, her arms crossed like she’s hugging herself, looking so damn sexy it physically hurts to stare.

I want her. God, I want to pull her into my arms and hold her close, soak in the way she feels pressed against me.

And if it were just the two of us right now?

I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d have her up on that kitchen counter in seconds, stripping her bare and making her sing my name until her voice was hoarse.

I’d claim her again and again. Fuck, I’d put another baby in her right here and now if I could.

I want her. I want this life. And with every fiber of my being, I swear, they’ll both be mine.

The rest of the afternoon at Sven’s flies by too fast. We sit around the table, talking shop about upcoming games and laughing over the kids playing together like they’ve been best friends forever, which at their age, practically is forever.

We swap stories about the old days, how Sven and Ava ended up together, and just as they’re weaving in bits about Eric and Levi—right on cue—they stroll through the door.

It’s a little awkward at first, but surprisingly comforting too.

They’ve built something solid and keep it mostly out of the spotlight, so why couldn’t we do the same?

And now, every time I see those guys at the rink, there’ll be this unspoken bond.

We know things, intimate things, about each other’s lives that most people never will.

We thank them for lunch and start gathering up to leave. Luna’s in my arms, already half-asleep, her head resting on my shoulder, her little breaths soft and even. She’s done for the day.

“Can we follow you home, make sure you get there okay?” David asks as we head out.

“I think we’ll be all right,” Leighton smiles, brushing her fingers down Luna’s back. “She’s more than ready for a nap. ”

David fixes her with a stare, dead serious. “Uh-uh. That wasn’t a question. We’re following you. And we need to know where you live.”

Leighton lets out a soft chuckle, shaking her head like she knows better than to argue. “Right.”

She straps Lulu into her car seat, and we all watch closely, because let’s face it, we’ve never done this before.

She shows us every step, patient and confident.

I, of course, have to triple-check that everything’s buckled and fastened tight.

Leighton closes the door, but I open it one more time just to make sure.

Can’t be too careful when it comes to my little girl.

I throw my cap back on and slide into the passenger seat of David’s SUV. The drive back is quiet, each of us lost in our thoughts. I run my hands through my hair and throw on the baseball cap that I left on the front seat. I wanted Luna to see all of me.

Finally, I say what’s been burning in my chest. “Whatever doubts I had before, gone. I’m one hundred percent in this thing.”

“Right there with you, buddy,” Andy says in an unusually quieter tone.

“Didn’t know what to expect when we went there, but now that we got a taste, there’s no way I’m turning back now,” David adds.

We pull up to Leighton’s place not long after, and the second I step inside, reality hits me like a brick wall. It’s cute, sure, a one-bedroom townhome, but it’s small. Way too small for them. Hell, the three of us can barely move around without bumping into each other.

Yeah, no. This will have to be temporary. No way in hell my girls are going to stay cramped up like this for long.

“Well,” Leighton says with a smile, clapping her hands lightly, “now’s a good time to show you how to change a diaper, because Luna’s out cold. Usually, she wakes up or stirs when I bring her in from the car, but it looks like you guys wore her out.” She laughs.

“Oh, nah. Let the little angel sleep,” Andy says quickly, holding up a hand like we’re not about to disturb her.

Leighton carefully lays Luna in her crib, then comes back out to see us off, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Well? How are you guys feeling?”

David speaks first, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Like we wish we’d known her sooner.”

He says what we’re all thinking out loud, and it lands like a blow right to the ribs.

Leighton’s smile is soft, but there’s something behind her eyes. “You guys did good,” she says, voice warm but edged with something wary. “Honestly, a part of me still thought you might bolt the second you saw her, but… you proved me wrong.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” I say firmly, meeting her gaze with everything I’ve got. Then I turn to the guys. “I’ll meet you in the car. Just give me a minute. ”

The door clicks shut behind them, and for a beat, it’s just the two of us. The air thickens.

I step in closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her, until her back hits the door. Not a single word passes between us. I just stand there, letting the silence do the work, until there’s barely a breath of space left. My heart pounds like a drum in my chest.

Slowly, deliberately, I twist my baseball cap around, my hand finding her chin, tilting her face up to mine. I lean in, lips hovering just above hers, close enough to taste her breath, but I don’t close the distance.

She’s frozen, her body stiff, eyes locked onto mine, searching, questioning, battling something inside herself. But I don’t waver. Instead, I take her hand and press it flat against my chest.

“Feel that?” I murmur, my voice low, charged with hunger. “It’s beating for you .”

My other hand slides up the doorframe above her head, caging her in.

“You might not believe me yet, but I swear to you, I’m going to earn your trust back.

You’re mine, Leighton. And now… now that you’re the mother of my child?

You have no idea what that does to me. Every inch of my body is burning for you right now.

And if you said the word, I’d take you. Right here. ”

She exhales slowly, shakily, her chest brushing mine. Her hand slides from my heart up to my face, fingers tracing my jaw with the lightest touch. Her eyes soften, her body loosening as she tips her head back just slightly.

God, she feels it too. I know she does.

But I don’t push. I hold myself back, even though it’s killing me. Instead, I dip my head, brushing my lips against her cheek, slowly, lingering just long enough to make her shiver.

I pull back, my voice a quiet promise. “I’ll see you soon, baby.”

And then I leave, my whole body thrumming with restraint, with want, with something deeper than I’ve ever known.

***

Since we’ve got two home games this week, it’s like the universe is giving us a window. Most evenings, the three of us are at Leighton’s place or the park nearby. We follow Luna’s every step, giggle, cry like she’s the center of the damn universe. Because she is.

I even bring up getting her a pair of tiny skates.

“She’s not getting on ice skates, Shane. She’s just two,” Leighton snaps, arms crossed.

“I’m pretty sure the three of us were on blades before we could spell our names,” I counter, glancing at the others for backup. “She’ll have an edge if she starts early. ”

“Early?” Leighton echoes like I’ve lost my mind. “I don’t even know if I want her on the ice at all. Hockey injuries are no joke.”

I pause, thinking through every shattered collarbone and concussion I’ve seen firsthand.

The game can be beautiful, but brutal. Still, this isn’t about her going pro.

It’s about her having the confidence and ability to glide on the ice, to be part of something we’ve all built our lives around.

But I keep that part to myself, for now.

Because later, when she curls into my arms, trying to say “blueberry” fifty different ways with the most serious little face I’ve ever seen, nothing else matters.

Hearing her say “boo-bear” like it’s a secret code between us turns me into fucking mush.

And I get it now. I get why people say becoming a parent rewires your whole damn brain.

Because mine’s different now. She rewired it without even trying.

By the third night, I notice David falling quiet. He’s usually the steady one, but there’s a certain stillness in the way he looks at her. When Luna climbs into his lap and hands him a slobbery board book, he doesn’t blink. Just reads it aloud like she’s the only person in the world.

After his ex and their problems with fertility, he gave up on a lot of things. I guess we both know what it feels like to want something so badly and never get it. Until now.

And Andy? Hell, he’s always been the class clown, the guy with a shit ton of energy, but around Luna? He’s gentle. Focused. Protective. Like the second she makes a peep, his entire body tunes to her frequency.

And that makes three of us completely leveled by one tiny human.

Still, through it all, Leighton’s kept a little distance. She’s kind. Patient. Funny. But not flirty. Not open like she was the night she came back into our lives.

I don’t blame her. We’ve got to earn her heart back. And that’s if she’s even interested in giving it again.

But there was one good sign—she told us she talked to Cecille about the video. And when she looped in Barb, the two of them handled it like it was just another Tuesday. The footage got pulled, the search terms scrubbed, and the whole thing locked down tighter than Fort Knox.

No more worries. No more threats. Just handled—clean, calm, efficient. Like Leighton, honestly. It made me want to cheer. Or kiss her. Or both.

One night midweek, Luna starts wailing like a siren. Teething, maybe. We take turns trying everything—walking with her, back pats, pacifiers, lullabies I didn’t even know I knew. Nothing works. It’s exhausting in a way that seeps into your bones, makes the hours blur.

And then it hits me. A dull, throbbing ache right in the center of my chest .

Leighton did this alone. For two years. No teammates. No bench to rotate in. No one to pass the baby off to at 3:00 a.m. when the world feels like it’s closing in.

And she’s still standing. It's humbling. I thought I understood strength. I didn’t.

When Luna finally quiets and falls asleep against my chest, her tiny breaths warm against my skin, I just sit there, not ready to let go. Eventually, I ease her into the crib and stare down at her like she’s made of stardust and prayers.

I’ve played championship games in front of roaring crowds. I’ve taken bone-crushing hits and kept going. But this? This is the bravest thing I’ve ever done.

She’s so small. So fragile. And I’d die for her without blinking.

When we all crash in Leighton’s living room that night, it becomes glaringly obvious. This space isn’t built for three grown men, a woman, and a toddler.

And, of course, David brings it up.

“This place works for you and Luna,” he says gently, “but it won’t work for all of us long term.” He sighs. “Why don’t we take this to my place? I’ve got room. We could easily convert one of the eight bedrooms into a playroom. I’ve got a big kitchen. A backyard.”

Leighton narrows her eyes. “For how long?”

“Indefinitely,” David says. “We’re all trying to figure this out together. Let’s at least be comfortable while we do it. ”

She’s reluctant, torn. Maybe this is her safe place. Maybe giving that up feels like giving up control.

“How about just a trial weekend?” I suggest. “We can get to his place on a Friday night and leave Sunday. No pressure. Just see how it feels.”

Andy shrugs. “I travel light. I’m game.”

David softens his tone. “It’s your call, Leighton. You and Luna come first.”

She folds her arms, clearly overwhelmed. “I’ve never lived with anyone outside of family. Not long term.”

“But… we are a family now,” I murmur.

Andy, keeping the mood light, says, “Think of it this way. This isn’t about barging in or controlling. It’s like hockey. You win as a team. We’re just trying to give you the assist.”

She burst out laughing, playfully bumping his shoulder. “Not quite, but I get what you mean.”

“We’re not trying to take anything from you,” I add. “Just sharing what we’re building together in a bigger space.”

She steps toward me, something unspoken in her eyes, like maybe she’s about to say yes—but then there’s a knock on the door.

Her head jerks toward it. “Well… that’s weird.”

David rises, on alert like a faithful dog. “You expecting someone?”

“No. Might be my neighbor.” She checks the peephole, and her expression drops. “Well, this is about to get uncomfortable. ”

“Honey, will you open up?” a deep male voice calls through the door.

Every muscle in my body locks up. Who is that?

Leighton sighs, yanking open the door with a forced smile. “Dad. Wyatt. What are you doing here?”