Page 38 of Her Hat Trick Daddies (Game On Daddies #3)

Andy

T hat was a damn mess. How’d we go from a high note to crashing and burning like this?

I’m almost certain Leighton was fixing to say yes to spending the weekend with us, to let us get a taste of what it’s like having her and Luna in our world, but then the whole thing just went to hell in a handbasket.

And the worst part? I don’t know if there’s any coming back from it.

Pfft. Her brother had that punch coming, no question. Deserved every bit of it. But Shane being the one to throw it? Yeah, not exactly ideal. Leighton’s already got it in her head that he’s got a short fuse, and this just proves her point. But in his defense, he was protecting her. We all were.

What if she decides he’s not cut out to be a dad? Hell, what if she writes off all three of us?

Now here we are, bellied up to David’s bar, knocking back his good whiskey, the kind he saves for bad days and worse nights.

None of us are saying a damn word. What is there to say?

Ain’t like we could’ve predicted her old man and her brother would show up swinging their weight around.

Or that Wyatt would act like a damn fool.

But the fact that she lumped us in with him… it says a lot. Like we’re just as much the problem. We’ve taken our share of hits before, licked our wounds after some brutal losses on the ice, but this? This cuts deeper.

Eventually, Shane and I crash at David’s place. Somehow, it’s always at David’s. I try not to think about how Leighton and Luna could’ve been here with us tonight. We’ve been bending over backward to prove we’re in this for the long haul, but right now, it feels like she shut the door on all of it.

With nothing but practice and one game on the calendar for the next week, there’s not much to keep my mind off it. She’s been keeping her distance, probably holed up with her family, and I’m left spinning my wheels.

Practice is a shitshow. My head’s not in it, and Shane’s is even worse. David tries to hold the line, but I can see it on him, too. We’re all hanging by a thread. Nobody wants to push. But this silence is brutal.

Coach Atticus blows the final whistle and stalks over, arms crossed. “You three wanna tell me what the hell that was?”

Penny gives us a softer look, but her voice is still sharp. “That’s not you out there. You’re off, and if something’s going on, now’s the time to lock it down, not fall apart. ”

We nod like we hear them, like we’ll get it together. But none of us says a word.

“You think she’s really done with us?” I mutter as we unlace our skates.

“I don’t know,” Shane says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I wouldn’t blame her.”

David exhales hard. “I just want to know she’s okay. Both of them.”

And just like that, we fall quiet again, each of us lost in the same ache.

Shane sent a few texts over the next week, just simple check-ins. How’s Lulu? Need anything? We miss you both. And all he got back was a short: We’re good. Talk soon. That was it. No warmth, no follow-up. Just enough to make the pain worse.

My phone dings with a group text—me, Shane, and David—and I damn near spill my whiskey lunging for it.

Leighton: Hey. Thanks for giving me some space to work things through. We’re getting pizza tonight at DC’s Pizzeria. My dad and Wyatt will be there. I’d love to see you… And Lu-Lu misses you. And I’ll explain everything.

She didn’t have to ask us twice, that’s for sure.

We pile into David’s SUV, and even though I’m usually the laidback one, my nerves are strung tight, humming like a taut bowstring.

Shane’s braced and coiled like a boxer in his corner, and David’s jaw is clenched so hard I swear I can hear his teeth grind.

I feel like some clueless rookie about to skate into the biggest game of his life.

When we step inside, it’s not as busy as I expected it to be. A few families scattered around, the TV blaring a game. Normally, it’s a circus on a Saturday night, but tonight feels… different.

It smells like melted cheese, warm dough, and that punch of garlic that clings to your clothes long after you leave.

There’s a low chatter, clinking glasses, a couple of screaming kids, but somehow, it feels right.

Neutral. Familiar. The kind of place where you can have hard conversations and still split a pepperoni pie after.

Leighton’s already tucked into a corner booth, Luna perched on her hip. Her dad’s next to her, dumping crushed red pepper onto a slice of sausage pizza. Wyatt’s across from them, arms crossed, a storm cloud brewing on his face.

But Luna? The second she sees us, her whole face lights up like it’s the Fourth of July.

“Dada… Dada!” she squeals, reaching for Shane.

Wyatt shifts in his seat, eyebrows lifting with a look that’s more wary than annoyed, like he wants to stay mad, but Luna’s joy is wearing him down.

Shane is at her side in a blink, scooping her up and spinning her in the air. She giggles, kicking her little feet like crazy. “I’ve missed you, Lu-Lu,” he says, and she plants a big, sloppy kiss right on his cheek.

God, that tiny voice guts me every time. Cute as a damn button.

“Peeza!” she shrieks, eyes wide as saucers, pointing at it with one hand while clutching a cheese stick in the other. She leans back toward Leighton and her grandpa for another bite, even though she’s got a death grip on that cheese stick like her life depends on it.

David chuckles. Shane exhales hard, like he’s been holding his breath since the second we walked in. I lift a hand in a small wave.

Leighton’s smile is soft but genuine. “Hey, guys. Glad you made it.”

We slide into the booth—Shane next to me, Leighton across from us, David settling in beside Wyatt. Luna’s still babbling a mile a minute while her grandpa tries wiping her sticky fingers.

Dinner starts off tense. Forks scraping plates. Stiff small talk about the season, the weather. No one dares bring up the fight, or the fact that we haven’t seen Leighton in a week. Wyatt doesn’t even glance our way for half the meal.

Then, finally, Leighton breaks the silence. Her voice is steady, like she’s been rehearsing.

“We’ve had time to talk. My dad. Wyatt.” She picks at her pizza crust, then lifts her gaze, meeting each of our eyes, steady, clear.

“Things are… moving forward. We’re not all on the same page yet, but there’s an understanding now, and that’s a start.

A whole lot better than where we were the last time you saw us. ”

I blink at how she simply states this right in front of their father. But dear old dad doesn’t bat an eye. Either he’s very open and progressive about such things, or he’s hard of hearing. I’m making up my mind about which, when Leighton prompts her brother.

Wyatt snorts. “Yeah, well… that’s gonna take some time.”

Leighton doesn’t even blink. “That’s fine. Take your time. But get there. Because this isn’t changing. I want Luna to have all of you in her life. And that means we’ve all got to figure out how to be around each other.”

Wyatt finally looks up, his gaze landing on us. He’s not hostile anymore, just tired. “Just… take care of my family, all right?”

Shane rests a hand flat on the table, voice low but unshakable. “They are our family too.”

The words just hang there, weighty and full of truth.

For a beat, no one moves. No one even breathes.

And then, Wyatt’s eyes flicker. Something shifts.

It’s small, almost too quick to catch, but it’s there.

The hard edge dulls, the tension in his shoulders loosens just a fraction, like maybe, just maybe, he believes it.

Across the table, Shane, David, and I exchange the briefest glance. Hopeful. Grounded. Like we’re all thinking the same thing: she still wants this. Wants us .

David clears his throat, breaking the quiet, and slides a small box across the table. “Here, Lu-Lu. These are for you.”

Luna gasps like we’ve handed her a treasure chest, eyes shining as she rips the box open and immediately grabs a fistful of crayons, attacking the paper with wild, gleeful strokes.

I can’t stop watching her, a tiny whirlwind of joy, and my chest swells in the best and worst way. Under my breath, barely more than a vow, I murmur, “We’ll take care of them.”

Her dad claps his hands together, quick and crisp, cutting through the moment like a blade. “Well, that’s our cue to hit the ball pit, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“Baw pitt!” Luna shrieks, tossing her crayons aside without a second thought, like she’s been waiting her whole life for this exact second.

We all shuffle out of the booth to let her dad and Wyatt take her, and the second they’re out of earshot, Leighton steps in close.

She reaches for me first, cupping my jaw, her fingers warm and gentle against my scruff.

Not flirty. Not teasing. Just… something that matters.

A quiet thank you, a reassurance, a promise.

A look that tells me, tells all of us, that this is where we’re meant to be.

And yeah, that’s the kind of touch you feel deep, long after it’s gone.

She moves to David next, her palm pressing softly to his chest, her smile blooming just a bit wider. Then, with Shane, she rises on tiptoe and brushes a light kiss against his cheek. Barely there, but you’d think she gave him the damn moon by the way his eyes glow.

And when she smiles at all three of us, bright, a little shy, but full of something real. I feel it deep down in my bones.

It’s going to be okay.

And I swear to god, we’ll fight like hell to keep it that way.