Page 60 of Her Hat Trick Daddies

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 Thursdayfor 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.”