Page 30

Chapter 30

Final Boss Battle

Dominic

T he sign on the store entrance said, “Dreams & Wonders,” but it might as well have spelled out “Hell & Nightmares.” Christmas music blasted from hidden speakers, mixing with the shrieks of overstimulated children and the desperate murmurs of last-minute shoppers. Holiday retail hell at its finest.

I adjusted the bags already hanging from my forearms and took a deep breath. “Into the pit we go.” I trailed behind Carter and Miles as they breached the threshold of the children’s boutique.

This whole shopping expedition had started as Carter’s half-assed joke during breakfast. “We can’t show up empty-handed for Christmas,” he’d announced to Brett, like we were distant relatives rather than the three guys impregnating his daughter. Well, technically just me doing the impregnating, but the family tree was getting more complicated by the day.

Brett had tossed Carter the SUV keys with narrowed eyes and a grunt that clearly translated to: I’d rather you leave than stay here making googly eyes at my daughter.

Two hours later, we’d managed to find a bottle of scotch that cost more than my first hockey stick for Brett and Mateo. We’d even picked up a fancy ring light for Nora’s sister, Josie, and a fancy pen for her boyfriend, Gabriel.

Now we faced our final boss battle: finding a gift for a five-year-old girl we’d never met.

“What about this?” Carter held up something pink and sparkly that might have been a wand or possibly a weapon of mass destruction. Hard to tell with children’s toys these days.

Miles shook his head. “Too generic. Nora said Laney likes that show Bluey , dogs, and art.”

I hung back, letting them take point on this one. My knowledge of children was limited to older ones that played hockey and occasionally signed autographs for them at games. Great preparation for fatherhood.

The store stretched before us in a maze of colorful displays, divided by age and interest. Toy instruments that no parent would want in their home. Art supplies guaranteed to destroy furniture. Books with buttons that made animal sounds. It was retail chaos.

I drifted away from Carter and Miles, who were already deep in debate about whether a five-year-old would prefer a chemistry set or a light-up tiara. Without realizing it, I found myself in a quieter section toward the back. Softer lighting. Gentler colors. The baby section.

My steps slowed. There was a display of tiny clothes folded and hung. Knit caps that were smaller than my hand. A neutral-toned baby blanket with small whales embroidered along the edge.

I reached out, my fingers brushing the soft fabric of the blanket. It was simple, not flashy or covered in cartoon characters. Just... perfect.

The room was suddenly too warm, and my chest too tight.

“There you are!” Carter materialized beside me, holding a child-sized tiara and a glittery purse. “Do five-year-olds still believe in fairy princesses? Or is that, like, so preschool?”

I blinked, trying to recalibrate to Carter’s energy level. “How the hell would I know?”

“Fair point. Neither of us exactly screams expert on little girls.” He glanced down at what I was touching. “Baby shopping already? Ambitious, considering Gummy Bear is like, what, the size of an avocado now?”

“I wasn’t—” I snatched my hand back from the blanket. “I was just looking.”

“Sure, Dom.” Carter’s voice lacked its usual teasing edge. “It’s a nice blanket. Get it.”

Miles appeared on my other side, holding a stuffed animal that was part dog, part unicorn. He followed our gazes to the baby display. “You know, we could grab a few things for the baby while we’re here.”

“It’s too early,” I protested automatically, even though I had already ordered a few things here and there. But they didn’t need to know that. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl.”

“So we get neutral stuff.” Miles gestured to the display. “That whale blanket is perfect.” He cleared his throat. “It’s the first Christmas we’ll have with the baby, technically. Even if they’re still, you know, in utero.”

Carter bounced on his toes like an overgrown child. “We should totally get Baby’s First Christmas stuff!” He reached over and grabbed a tiny onesie that said My First Christmas with a bear wearing a Santa hat.

I stared at it, something uncomfortable and warm spreading in my chest. It felt like indigestion but was emotional. The tiny onesie dangled between Carter’s fingers, innocent and impossibly small, and I had the sudden, vivid image of my baby wearing it.

The sensation wasn’t quite panic, wasn’t quite joy, but some new hybrid emotion I hadn’t encountered before. Parenthood was coming at me like a freight train, and here I was, standing in a kid’s store, caught off guard by a piece of cotton with a cartoon bear on it.

“What do you think, Dom?” Miles asked quietly. “Your call.”

The strange part was that it didn’t feel weird standing there with them, contemplating baby gifts. It should have. These were the two guys who’d been inside the mother of my child. Guys who openly wanted to be with her even though she was pregnant. Who I’d watched kiss her, touch her, and care for her.

Yet here we were, three grown men in the baby section, and it felt... right.

“The blanket’s good.” I picked it up gently, as if it might fall apart. “And maybe some practical stuff. Nothing too Christmas-specific. GB isn’t even due until summer.”

Twenty minutes later, we’d assembled a small collection of baby items alongside Laney’s gifts. Our haul was impressive enough that the cashier’s eyes widened as she began scanning.

“You guys must really love this little girl.” She smiled, ringing up Laney’s gifts first. “And...” She paused, looking at the baby items. “Are you all new dads?”

The three of us froze, exchanging glances.

Miles shifted his weight. “Not exactly.”

“It’s complicated,” Carter added with his charm-the-pants-off-you smile.

I said nothing, tapped my phone on the card machine before the others could object. Guess some primal provider instinct kicked in.

The walk back to the SUV was quiet, each of us lost in thought. The weight of what we were walking into, not just Christmas with Nora’s family, but this entire situation, suddenly was very real.

* * *

“They’re here!” Nora called out, her voice carrying through the house with a note of excitement I’d never heard from her that twisted something in my chest.

“Dom!” Nora spotted me in the kitchen, where I’d just knocked back the rest of my whiskey, and waved me over. “Come meet my sister!”

The soft cream sweater dress she wore hugged the slight curve of her stomach. It wasn’t noticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking for it, but I couldn’t stop staring.

I pasted on what I hoped was a normal human smile and approached the group gathering in the entryway of the house. Nora’s arm slid around my waist, casual and possessive in a way that made my brain short-circuit momentarily. Lately, she’d been touching me more in front of others, and each time it made my body buzz.

“This is Dominic.” Nora squeezed my side like I was some kind of stress ball. “Dom, this is Josie, Gabriel, and Laney.”

Josie assessed me with eyes exactly like her sister’s. “So, you’re the man who knocked up my sister?”

My throat seized in a vicious contraction that would’ve turned any remaining whiskey into a projectile weapon. Good thing I’d already swallowed. Her blunt comment landed like a sucker punch to the throat, so direct and efficient it left me momentarily unable to form words. I swallowed hard against the phantom burn, feeling heat crawl up my neck that had nothing to do with alcohol.

But then Josie burst out laughing, a full, uninhibited sound that instantly transformed her from intimidating to approachable, and she moved in for a hug that caught me completely off guard.

“Ignore her. She’s been talking all day about how she planned to roast you.” Gabriel stepped forward next, his daughter clinging to his hand like she thought he might float away and extended his hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

I shook his hand, appreciating the firm grip. I knew of Gabriel Badden but had never met him in person. He ran the sports apparel company that supplied uniforms and merchandise for the Titans and many other sports teams across the country.

The little girl, Laney, still had a grip on her dad’s hand but had moved back so she was partially hidden behind Gabriel’s leg. She eyed me suspiciously, like I might suddenly break into a hockey fight in the middle of the living room.

I crouched down, putting myself at her level. “Hey there. You must be Laney.”

She nodded solemnly, her small fingers tightening on Gabriel’s hand.

“I’m Dom.” I was painfully aware of everyone watching this interaction. “I, uh, like your shoes.” They were sparkly and had unicorns on them. At least I knew she’d like the unicorn dog plush we’d gotten her.

This earned me a slightly less suspicious look but still no words. Great. Even five-year-olds could tell I was out of my depth.

The living room filled with conversation and laughter as everyone came to greet Nora’s sister. With the Christmas music playing, the tree lit up in the corner, and the smell of food and desserts cooking, it was like a scene from one of those Hallmark movies my mom had watched every December. Except in those movies, the story never included a pregnant woman juggling three men while her dad made everyone cocktails ten feet away.

Nora was glowing. There was no other word for it. The way she laughed at Carter’s jokes and leaned into Miles when he whispered something in her ear had me paying attention to her and only her. Every few minutes, her eyes would find mine across the room, a silent check-in that made my chest constrict.

I was part of this. And also, completely outside it.

“Who’s up for some pool?” Brett’s voice cut through the conversation like a coach calling a timeout. “We just got the table re-felted. We might as well break it in.”

Carter straightened like he’d been waiting all night for this. “Absolutely. Been itching for a rematch.”

Miles raised a brow. “You mean a rematch of me absolutely destroying you last time?”

“You sunk the eight ball early, Collins. It was a fluke.”

“Uh-huh.” Miles set down his drink and stood. “Let’s go.”

Brett’s gaze landed on me. “Dominic?”

The old me would’ve jumped at the chance, eager to prove something and earn points. But tonight, with my head still spinning from how easily everyone else seemed to belong, I shook my head. “Think I’ll sit this one out.”

Miles and Carter disappeared downstairs with Brett, Gabriel headed to the kitchen to help Mateo, and moments later, Josie pulled Nora aside, their heads bent close in sisterly conspiracy.

Which left me in the living room with Laney.

She’d set up at the coffee table and was carefully arranging glitter gel pens beside a notebook. The TV played some animated Christmas movie at a low volume, casting colorful reflections across her small, serious face.

I lowered myself onto the opposite end of the couch, maintaining what felt like an appropriate distance for a strange adult and a child who clearly thought I might be an axe murderer.

A full minute of silence stretched between us, broken only by the cap of a pen being removed with meticulous care.

“So...” I tried, immediately regretting opening my mouth. “Whatcha drawing?”

Laney glanced up, assessing whether I was worthy of a response. After a beat, she turned her notebook toward me. “The Christmas tree with everybody.”

The drawing was surprisingly good for a kid her age, or at least I thought so, though my experience with children’s art was limited to the crayon scribbles fans sometimes handed me after games. The tree dominated the page, decorated with multicolored blobs. Around it stood stick figures of varying heights, each labeled in wobbly letters.

“That’s Daddy.” She pointed to a tall figure. “And Josie.” A smaller figure holding hands with the tall one. “And Nora with the baby in her tummy.”

My eyes fixed on the stick figure with a round circle protruding from its middle. Something thick and hot lodged in my throat.

“Josie said the baby is growing, but it’s still really tiny,” Laney informed me solemnly. Her small finger moved to another figure. “That’s you.”

I stared at the stick person she indicated, which was right beside Nora, one stick arm connected to hers. “Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” She picked up a blue glitter pen and began adding something to the tree. “Josie said you play hockey. Do you like to color?”

The abrupt change of subject gave me conversational whiplash. “Uh, I haven’t colored much since I was a kid.”

Laney stopped, looking at me with genuine concern. “You don’t color?” The horror in her voice suggested I’d admitted to not drinking water or breathing air.

“Not recently.”

She reached into a small backpack beside her and pulled out a coloring book featuring cartoon characters I didn’t recognize. After flipping through several pages with critical concentration, she handed it to me along with a green glitter pen. “You can do the tree. Stay in the lines.”

The authority in her tiny voice was so reminiscent of Nora that I almost laughed. Instead, I took the paper and pen, moving onto the floor in front of the coffee table. “Yes, ma’am.”

We colored in companionable silence, the Christmas movie and kitchen sounds creating a peaceful backdrop. I relaxed into the simple task, carefully filling in the cartoon tree while sneaking glances at Laney’s intense concentration.

Her little hands moved methodically, switching colors with careful consideration. There was a hint of nervousness beneath her calm. She glanced up often, concern on her face until she spotted her dad in the kitchen.

In six months, there would be an even smaller person around. My person. A tiny human depending on me in ways I wasn’t remotely convinced I could handle.

“Are you the daddy?” The question hit me like a slap shot to the chest. I looked up to find Laney watching me, her eyes serious and curious.

“Uh...” I fumbled, the glitter pen frozen mid-stroke. “I’m... well...”

What was the right answer here? Yes, I’m the father, but we’re pretending Miles is? No, but technically, yes? Sorry, kid, it’s complicated because Nora is in a relationship with multiple men?

Panic clawed up my throat. I spotted a candy cane on the coffee table and grabbed it like a lifeline. “Hey, want a candy cane?”

Laney’s eyes lit up as she nodded, seemingly forgetting her question entirely as she accepted the striped treat.

My hands trembled slightly as I resumed coloring, but the moment had shifted something inside me. The weight of what was coming pressed down until my chest was tight, air coming in shallow bursts.

“I need to get some air.” I set down the pen and stood. “Be right back, okay?”

Laney nodded without looking up, already engrossed in her next picture.

I slipped out the back door onto the patio, gulping in the crisp night air. The ocean stretched dark and vast before me as I walked to the railing, the rhythmic sound of waves a counterpoint to my racing heart.

I’m going to be someone’s father. The thought crashed over me repeatedly, each wave bringing fresh terror. My own dad had been a prime example of how to mess up your kid. Demanding, critical, never satisfied. Hockey had been his religion, and I’d never been devout enough.

What if that poison was in my blood? What if, despite my best intentions, I turned into him?

Someone cleared their throat from behind me, and I tensed as Brett came to stand next to me, handing me a bottle of beer. “I saw you head out here when I came upstairs to grab one.”

We stood shoulder to shoulder at the railing. The silence stretched, not exactly comfortable but not hostile either. Just two men carefully navigating unknown terrain.

“Nice night,” Brett finally said, his voice low.

“Yeah.” I took a pull from the beer. “Clear.”

Another stretch of silence.

“Hockey season is going well,” he tried again.

“Yeah, we’ve turned things around.”

Brett nodded. “Nora mentioned you’re on pace to have your season.”

The mention of Nora released some of the tension in my shoulders. “Might even make it to the playoffs.” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “Nora’s been helping me with some technical adjustments. It’s making a difference.”

The corner of Brett’s mouth twitched upward. “She always was stubborn about technique. Used to drive me up a wall when she’d correct my lateral movements and balance. Even when she was twelve.”

The image of a miniature Nora bossing around a professional goalie made me chuckle. “She hasn’t changed.”

Brett’s smile faded as he looked out at the water, his eyes turning wistful before he spoke again. “Christmas is hard when you lose someone. Sophie, Nora’s mom, loved this time of year. Went all out with the decorations, baking, the works.” He took a long pull from his beer. “The first few years after she died, I could barely stand to look at a Christmas tree.”

I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond to his unexpected openness.

“But kids...” Brett cleared his throat. “They force you to keep going. To create normalcy even when nothing feels normal.” He glanced at me. “Nora says you’re worried. About being a father.”

The direct approach caught me off guard. “I—” I started, then stopped, recalibrating. “My dad was...” The words stuck in my throat.

“A piece of work?” Brett supplied.

A surprised laugh escaped me. “That’s the polite version.”

“I’ve met Garrett Wilson on several occasions.” Brett’s tone was carefully neutral.

“Yeah, well.” I gripped my beer bottle tighter. “I don’t exactly have the best role model for what a good dad looks like.”

Brett was quiet for a moment. “The first time they handed Nora to me in the hospital, I thought I was going to pass out. She was so small. So breakable. I was terrified I’d drop her or squeeze too hard or, hell, I don’t know, breathe on her wrong somehow.”

The image was so at odds with the composed man beside me that I couldn’t help but stare at him in surprise.

“Point is, none of us know what we’re doing. Not at first. You figure it out as you go because you have to.” He turned to face me fully and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. “And from what Nora’s told me, you’re nothing like your father.”

A complicated knot of emotion tightened in my chest. “I’m scared of screwing this up.”

He finished his beer. “The ones who don’t worry are the ones who screw it up. For what it’s worth, Wilson, I think you’ll do all right. And if not, then I’m sure Miles and Carter will kick your ass for me since I’m on the other side of the country.”

With that, he headed back toward the door, leaving me with an empty beer bottle and a head full of chaotic thoughts.

When I finally stepped back inside, my eyes found Nora immediately. She was laughing at something Carter said, her hand resting unconsciously on her stomach. Miles stood nearby, watching her with that mix of adoration and resignation that seemed to be his default expression lately.

This was nothing like I’d ever pictured my life would be. Hell, I’d never even given much thought to having my own family before now. But looking at Nora—and as much as I hated to admit it, Miles and Carter—I knew exactly where I belonged.

I didn’t feel like an outsider anymore. I felt like someone who had everything to lose.