Page 27

Chapter 27

Entourage? Lovers? Support System?

Nora

I ’d never been more convinced that pregnancy hormones caused an advanced form of temporary emotional chaos than I was at this exact moment, wedged in the back seat of an SUV between two professional hockey players while Carter charmed our driver from the front passenger seat.

“And that’s how I ended up with a pet llama named Tina for exactly six days,” Carter concluded his story, causing the driver to burst into laughter as we pulled into my father’s driveway in Corona del Mar.

The familiar three-story beachfront house loomed ahead, looking far more intimidating than it had during my entire childhood. My stomach knotted as the SUV slowed to a stop in the circular driveway lined with meticulously pruned shrubs and flowers.

This was, without question, the worst idea I’d ever had, and I once wore white jeans to a paint-and-sip night.

I glanced between them—these men looking like overgrown kids being dropped off at camp—and a wave of panic crashed over me. What the hell was I thinking bringing them home? To my father’s house? For Christmas?

I’d never brought anyone home, and now I was bringing home three men?

It was last minute and impulsive, but when I’d found out that none of them were spending the holidays with family, I couldn’t leave them behind.

Dominic let out a low whistle. “No wonder you bitch about the snow. This place makes New York look like a punishment.” His eyes lingered on the front door like he was preparing to be attacked. “The weather alone might be worth a trade, honestly.”

“I know, right?” I took in the blue, cloudless sky and the queen palms moving softly in the breeze. It was mid-sixties, sunny, and perfect while the rest of the country was bundled in parkas with tears freezing on their cheeks.

Miles stiffened beside me, his hand finding mine in a gesture that was both protective and uncertain. His fingers threaded through mine, gentle where the rest of him was all quiet tension. “Let’s not talk about being traded.” The words came out low, with an edge I rarely heard from him.

I felt the slight pressure of his thumb running across my knuckles, a tiny, unconscious movement that said more than his words did. After last night, I finally understood how much he was holding back.

“Nothing beats New York, though.” That wasn’t a total lie. The city was starting to grow on me.

After months of bundling up in layers that made me resemble a walking marshmallow and perfecting the art of subway surfing without touching any surfaces, I’d found a bizarre comfort in its chaos. The way the skyline lit up at night, the twenty-four-hour restaurants that knew my order, and even the questionable smells wafting from random sidewalk grates had become familiar. Some would probably call that Stockholm syndrome, but I preferred to think of it as adaptability.

The driver popped the trunk, and we all got out, Carter practically teleporting from the front seat. “I’ll grab mine and Nora’s.” He was pulling out my suitcase before anyone else had even rounded the back of the SUV.

Miles stepped in without a word to grab his own bag along with Dominic’s. The trunk door closed with a solid thud as the front door opened.

All six-foot-two of the retired NHL goaltender turned head coach stood with his arms crossed over his chest like he was facing down a rival team during playoffs.

My heart jumped to my throat. I hadn’t exactly been clear with my dad about everything. He knew about the baby. He knew Dominic was the father. He knew Miles was my fake boyfriend. He knew Carter owned part of the team. But I hadn’t explained that I was embarking on a relationship with all three of them.

How do you even tell your dad that? Like, “Remember when you caught me playing spin the bottle at thirteen? Well, now I’m playing the adult version with three men.”

“Do we bow or something?” Carter whispered loudly enough that the entire block probably heard him.

“Shut up,” Dominic and Miles hissed in unison.

“Hi, Dad.” I walked toward him with what I hoped was casual confidence and not the panic of a woman who’d just realized she needed to figure out sleeping arrangements for three grown men in her childhood home.

Behind Dad was Mateo, tall, calm, with salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses that gave him a kind professor vibe. “Nora!” Mateo stepped forward with a warmth that immediately eased some of my worries. He wrapped me in a hug and I almost started crying. My dad deserved to find love and happiness again, and he’d found it after meeting Mateo in a grief support group.

Dad finally moved, coming down the walkway with measured strides. He hugged me briefly, his eyes never leaving the trio of men standing awkwardly in the driveway. “Welcome home, kiddo.”

He turned his attention to my… entourage? Lovers? Support system? What exactly was the correct terminology here?

Miles stepped forward first, extending his hand. “Coach Hastings, thank you for having us. I’m?—”

“Miles Collins.” Dad’s handshake was firm but not the bone-crusher I’d been expecting. “I’ve watched your game since juniors.”

Miles nodded, relief partially softening his expression, though he shifted his weight from one foot to another, like he wasn’t quite sure where to position himself. His shoulders relaxed by maybe two millimeters, not enough for anyone else to notice, but I was too tuned in to him now not to catch it.

I wanted to reach for his hand, to somehow telegraph that he didn’t need to prepare for peacekeeping duty or worry about his place at my side, but touching him now seemed like dropping a match into a gas tank.

Carter stepped forward next, extending his hand. “Carter Campbell, sir. An honor to meet an NHL legend. Nora speaks very highly of you.”

Dad assessed Carter with the same look he gave rookies during training camp, searching for weaknesses. “You bought into the Titans recently.”

“Minority stake, yes, sir. But only because they wouldn’t let me buy the whole team. At least not yet.” Carter’s smile never faltered, though a bead of sweat formed at his temple.

I stared at him in disbelief. He’d intended to buy the whole damn team? Tossing around the idea of buying a pro sports team like it was a rare trading card made my head nearly spin off. I’d known he was wealthy, but the nonchalance with which he admitted this to my father made me wonder if I truly understood the scope of his resources. Part of me wanted to kick his ankle for showing off, while another part admired the sheer audacity.

Then came the moment I’d been dreading. Dominic stepped forward, tension radiating off him. “Coach.” He gave my dad a tight nod.

My dad’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Wilson.”

The air between them crackled. Apparently, the bad blood between our fathers had trickled down to us. Plus, the fact that Dominic got me pregnant probably didn’t help matters.

Mateo, thankfully, broke the standoff. “Why don’t we head inside?”

“I’ll show everyone where to put their bags.” I was desperate to escape the testosterone-charged atmosphere.

Dad finally took his eyes off Dominic. “I’ve set up the guest rooms. Three of them.” His emphasis on the number wasn’t subtle.

My cheeks burned. “Great, thanks.”

As we shuffled inside, my dad put his hand on my arm, holding me back. “You didn’t mention all three men were in love with you,” he whispered.

My eyes widened. “What? No!”

“They all look at you like you won the Stanley Cup all by yourself.” His eyebrows arched. “Something you want to tell me about this situation?”

I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “It’s... complicated.”

His expression softened slightly. “I figured. We’ll talk later.”

Inside, Mateo was already showing my men around the spacious living room, dining room, and kitchen area with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

“This place is incredible.” Miles gazed at the view and looked more relaxed than he had minutes ago.

Carter was examining family photos on the wall. “Baby Nora! Look at those little skates!”

Dominic hung back, his posture rigid as he scanned the room. I didn’t miss how his eyes lingered on the trophy shelf where my dad kept his Stanley Cup rings prominently displayed. Three from his time as a player and one from coaching.

Mateo called everyone into the kitchen for drinks and snacks, and I pretended like I wasn’t one stray thought away from a nervous breakdown. After ten minutes of small talk and Carter nearly knocking over a decorative bowl shaped like a hockey helmet, I stood from where I’d sat at the island and smoothed my shirt.

“I’m going to freshen up real quick before dinner.” I gestured in the direction of the stairs. “Come on, guys. I’ll show you your rooms.”

They followed me without question, and I led them down the familiar upstairs hallway, feeling like I was back in high school sneaking friends in after curfew, except now I was twenty-eight, pregnant, and my dad was fully aware of the male parade following me upstairs. I half-expected a laugh track to kick in at any moment.

“There are two guest rooms right here and one down at the end of the hall.” I pointed toward the door at the far end, past my own bedroom.

Carter immediately stepped forward. “I’ll take the one at the end. I like having a corner room. Better vibes.”

I snorted. “They all have the same vibes. This isn’t a resort with different themes.”

“Oh, I know. I just need a reason to take the farthest room from your dad.” He whispered the last part, but not quietly enough.

Miles shook his head, fighting a smile. “Smooth, Campbell.”

“Please, like you two aren’t ready to piss yourselves every time he glances your way.” Carter reached for my suitcase. “I’ll take this to your room.”

I grabbed the handle. “I can manage my own bag.”

“I know you can.” He winked, somehow making the gesture both flirtatious and sincere. “But why should you when you have me?”

Before I could protest further, he’d already taken it, leaving me standing empty-handed.

“We’ll get settled then.” Miles disappeared into the first room with a pointed look at me that clearly meant ‘be careful.’

Dominic hesitated, his gaze lingering on Carter before he nodded and retreated into the second guest room, closing the door with a soft click.

I followed Carter down the hall toward my childhood bedroom, now technically a guest room, though it still had enough of my past scattered around to mark it as mine. Dad had kept most of my trophies and competition photos that I hadn’t taken with me on display, though the boy band posters and fairy lights had mercifully been removed.

Carter set my suitcase down, his eyes immediately scanning the room, taking in every detail like he was cataloging pieces of my history. His gaze lingered on a photo of teenage me in a sparkly skating costume, hair pulled back in a severe bun, holding a trophy almost as big as my torso.

“Look at you.” He picked it up, examining it with an appreciative smile. “Fierce even back then.”

“That was juniors. I was thirteen and thought I was on my way to being the next Michelle Kwan.” I shrugged, as if it didn’t sting sometimes that I had been on my way to just that.

Carter nodded, his expression softening as he took in more photos: me and Josie with my mom before she died, me at hockey games with Dad, medals and ribbons from competitions.

The energy in the room shifted as he sat down on the edge of my bed, his usual bravado dialed back enough that I could see beneath it. It was the same glimpse I’d gotten when I’d told him I was pregnant and then again when we found out the paternity.

“Your dad kind of terrifies me,” he admitted.

“He has that effect on people.”

“It’s not the hockey legend thing, or even the ‘I was almost the daddy’ thing, though that’s part of it.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect styling he’d accomplished in the airplane bathroom. “I really want him to like me, and I don’t think it’s working.”

I leaned against my dresser. “We’ve barely been here twenty minutes, and he doesn’t like anyone at first. Especially three men who show up with his pregnant daughter.”

“I get that, but...” He looked down at his hands. “I can tell he sees right through me.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

His eyes met mine. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe he needs to see the real you, not the performance.” I moved closer. “The Carter who remembers details about people. The one who thinks about what others need.”

He let out a soft laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s Christmas, and my parents are in Switzerland. Again. They invited me, but it’s just another opportunity for them to lay into me.” He shook his head. “Even over a decade later, they still can’t believe I chose photography and art over taking over the business.”

“That must be tough.” I couldn’t imagine not having the support of my dad. Had he been bummed when I’d decided to leave the Storm and coach with the Titans? Of course, but he’d also been proud of me for doing what I felt was best for my career.

Carter tried to laugh it off, the sound hollow in the quiet room. “Anyway, it’s not a big deal. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’m used to the disappointed looks by now, so your father’s approval shouldn’t bother me.”

The practiced casualness in his voice broke something in me. I moved to stand directly in front of him, close enough that his knees bracketed my legs. I ran my fingers through his hair, fixing what he’d messed up moments before. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone, Carter. Not to my dad, not to yours. Not to me.”

His hands came to rest on my hips. “I know.” The way he leaned into my touch told me he needed to hear it anyway.

“I mean it.” I let my fingers trail down to cup his cheek. “The guy who remembered the little bakery I mentioned once and had their croissants delivered to my apartment? That’s the real you. The one who noticed when I was on my feet too much and brought me compression socks? That guy doesn’t need smoke and mirrors.”

Carter’s eyes softened, his usual armor completely down now. “You’re the best part of my year, you know that?” His thumbs traced small circles on my hips. “This whole thing should be a disaster, but somehow it’s brought me exactly where I needed to be.”

He stood up, bringing us chest to chest. My stomach pressed against his, a reminder of what had gotten us to this point. His fingers flexed against my hip, his thumb tracing the curve where it met my waist, leaving trails of warmth that cascaded down my thighs.

I tilted my face up to his, close enough to see how his pupils widened when he looked at me like this. Not with the practiced charm he showed the world, but with something raw and genuine that made my knees weaken.

“I should let you unpack before one of the others tries to steal your attention.” He touched my cheek, his thumb hovering near my bottom lip before he kissed my forehead and stepped away. “Besides, I need to mentally prepare for dinner with your dad. Maybe do some push-ups to seem more impressive.”

I laughed. “Please don’t do push-ups at the dinner table.”

“No promises.” He paused at the door, looking back at me with an expression that made my insides melt. “Thanks, Nora. For bringing me here. For...” He gestured vaguely. “For seeing me, I guess.”

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving me alone with my racing heart and the distinct feeling that I was in way over my head.

I flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling that had witnessed my teenage angst, my college anxiety, and now my adult relationship chaos. Through the wall, I heard Carter whistling as he unpacked, the cheerful sound at odds with the vulnerability he’d just shown me.

How was I supposed to survive the next few days if a simple conversation with Carter left me this emotionally wrecked, and if I was being perfectly honest, a bit horny? We still had Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow, Christmas morning, and all the awkward family moments in between.

And somewhere downstairs, my father was waiting to corner me about exactly what kind of arrangement I had with these three men.

I covered my face with a pillow and groaned.