Page 37 of Her Hat Trick Daddies (Game On Daddies #3)

Leighton

T he second I shut the door behind me, the air inside feels like a different world. Calmer. Still heavy with tension, but softer somehow. Safer.

But inside me? It’s anything but quiet. I’m a raging storm. Furious, wounded, unraveling. The things Wyatt said keep replaying, sharp and cruel, slicing deeper each time. The implication that I’m some kind of slut. That Mom would be ashamed of me.

He had no right. None. Not to judge me, and definitely not to throw her name around like that.

My mother was the most accepting, loving person I’ve ever known.

She would’ve wrapped her arms around me, no matter how complicated this all looked from the outside.

She volunteered at shelters. She gave without ever expecting anything in return.

She wasn’t judgmental. She was grace. And I’d give anything to bring her back right now .

I wanted to scream at him. At Dad. At all the years I carried more than my share. But all I could think about was Mom. How she would’ve known what to say. None of this would've happened if a drunk driver hadn’t shattered our world in a single, senseless second.

They were just coming home from dinner when he blew through a red light, slamming straight into the passenger side.

Dad survived. Mom didn’t. And now he has to live with the image of her face in those final moments burned into his memory.

I think about that night more than I should, and every time, it breaks me all over again.

I miss her so much, even after all these years.

And Dad… his face didn’t warp with rage the way Wyatt’s did, but the look in his eyes still guts me. Disappointment, quiet and heavy. That hurts in a whole different way.

I take Luna from my Dad, her body warm and limp against my shoulder, finally asleep.

I can still hear the echo of raised voices in my ears—Wyatt barking like a German shepherd, the sound of Shane’s knuckles hitting Wyatt in his jaw, Andy demanding apologies, and David trying to keep everyone from going nuclear.

I press my cheek to Luna’s curls and breathe her in.

Cocoa butter, shampoo, and baby sweat. Familiar.

Grounding. I lay her down in her crib, the soft glow of the nightlight painting the walls in gentle stars.

She murmurs something against my neck—maybe “boo-bear,” maybe nothing at all, and I hush her with a kiss to the crown of her head.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe. Mommy’s here.”

She rolls onto her side, her favorite stuffed pig, the one from Shane, tucked beneath her arm, and lets out a soft sigh. A few minutes pass. I watch her chest rise and fall. Only when I’m sure she’s sound asleep do I leave the room, closing the door as quietly as I can.

I find Dad in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with two mugs of tea. He doesn’t say anything, just hands me one. Chamomile. Of course.

I take a long sip and then sit at the table, suddenly so tired I could fall apart.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Not really. But I know I need to.”

He waits. He always does that. It’s one of the things I love most about him. He doesn’t push.

“I care about them,” I finally say. “All three of them. I didn’t expect it to happen like this.

I didn’t plan any of it. But I look at Luna and…

I see pieces of Shane in her. And I see how much all of them want to be there for her, and for me.

I didn’t think I’d ever get something like this.

It’s messy and unconventional and probably insane, but I feel…

seen. And loved. And that matters to me. ”

Dad nods slowly, like he’s weighing every word. Then he says, “You always did like taking the road no one else would. Doesn’t mean it’s wrong, no matter how much I might not understand it right away. Just means it’s yours. And if this makes you happy… how could I take that from you?”

He pauses, then adds, “Honestly, after all these years hearing about Ava, and seeing how she’s built a life for herself and her son, who’s to say you couldn’t do the same? It's just different when it’s your own kid, you know? Hearing someone else’s story isn’t the same as living it.”

My eyes well up.

I set the tea down and fold forward until my forehead touches the table. The sobs comes out fast and ugly. Dad doesn’t rush me. Just rests his hand on my back and rubs slow, steady circles. Like he used to when I had nightmares as a kid.

When I finally sit up, my face is soaked and my chest aches, but something in me feels lighter. Less alone.

“I needed to hear you say that,” I whisper.

“I gave you grief when you told us you were pregnant,” he says softly.

“I’m not doing that again. You, Wyatt, Luna…

you’re my world, and I want what’s best for my family, no matter how unconventional.

Shane is Luna’s father. And if he wants to step up, and if you want to be with…

them , then it’s not my place to get in the way. ”

“Thanks, Dad,” I choke out.

“I love you, honey. Always. ”

I manage a smile, and it almost sticks… until the front door creaks open.

Wyatt steps in, his expression stony and unreadable. His boots are muddy. He’s clearly been walking off steam.

I tense, waiting for more yelling.

He doesn’t yell.

He walks to the table, takes the other chair, and sits. For a long moment, the only sound is the ticking of the clock.

“I’m not okay with this,” he says finally.

I nod. “I figured.”

“I don’t like the idea of three guys being around my niece.

With you. I don’t like that you didn’t tell me sooner.

I don’t like that one of them swung at me.

” He pauses, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“But… at the same time, it was in defense of you. And I can be mature enough to recognize that. Respect that.”

His hands drop. He looks up at the ceiling for a beat, like he’s searching for the right words, then meets my eyes again. He’s obviously wrestling with it all.

“I saw how they looked at her. At you. And that wasn’t fake.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

He exhales hard through his nose. “It’s going to take time, Leigh. I’m not saying I approve. But I’m not going to be the reason you lose something good. I just… I need time.”

“I can live—”

“I’m not done,” he interrupts, but his voice is soft.

“And look, Leigh… I feel like shit for bringing up Mom. I know sh e wouldn’t judge you.

I was shocked, blindsided, so yeah, I was trying to hurt you because I felt hurt.

That was messed up. Childish. But you’ve got to understand where I’m coming from.

I see crazy shit all the time in my line of work.

My instinct is to assume the worst… and I did. About them. About you.”

He swallows hard, eyes glinting. “I was so damn angry, Leigh. At everything. At you, at Dad, at the whole damn world. But mostly at that drunk bastard who ran a red light and took mom from us. I never said it out loud. Never dealt with it. Just shoved it all down and expected you to carry it. And sometimes, my temper still gets the better of me, and I shouldn’t take it out on you. ”

I blink back tears. “I miss her too. Every single day… some days I still think I hear her humming in the kitchen.”

“Yeah.” He nods, jaw tight, voice like gravel. “I know. I wasn’t old enough then, but if I’d been there that night… if I’d seen him step out of that car when mom was… gone at the scene…” His throat works around the words. “I swear to God, he wouldn’t have walked away.”

Dad doesn’t say a word. Just watches us, eyes locked on my brother, lips pressed into a trembling line.

His jaw ticks. And those eyes, usually so steady, are glassy now, rimmed red with grief that never really left.

My heart twists painfully in my chest, like it’s trying to fold in on itself.

Grief is a strange thing. It doesn’t fade. It just settles deeper .

“I’m sorry,” Wyatt says, quieter now. “I’m sorry for hurting you. And I’m sorry for doing it in front of Lu-Lu.”

“Thank you for owning up to that,” I whisper, wiping a tear from my cheek.

He shrugs like it stings. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m still on probation with those three knuckleheads. But I’ll try.”

“They’re good guys. You’ll both see.”

That’s enough for now. Maybe more than enough.

For a while, no one speaks. Then Dad clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “Your mom would’ve been proud of you both. Of how you’re finding your way back to each other, to happy lives.”

He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t have to. But when he reaches across the table and covers my hand with his, I lose it all over again.

We sit there together, the three of us. And for the first time all day, things feel like they might just be okay.

Later, when the house is quiet again, I find myself standing over Luna's crib. I watch her in the soft light, her little limbs sprawled out, the pig still clutched close.

I’ve spent so much time over the past three years being sad. Feeling like I might not be enough for my baby girl. Doing this alone.

But after tonight, I know I’m not alone anymore.

This new family might not look like anyone else’s. But it’s real. And it’s ours.