Page 8 of Make Your Save (Aston Archers Hockey #3)

CHAPTER SEVEN

HADLEY

S tanding at the stove, I check the timer, pulling the oven door open as I check on the lasagna one last time. I check the actual time, realizing it’s well after eleven thirty, yet here I am, attempting to make dinner for Rowan like I’m some damn housewife. We didn’t talk about what time he would be home, although now I’m wondering if I should have asked.

Shit. What if he decided to not even bother coming back?

He has a very particular schedule and routine before a game, I never once considered he might have a ritual after a game too. I don’t even know if he eats dinner this late. I have a habit of baking or cooking when I’m stressed, and stressed is definitely an understatement right now.

Relief instantly floods me when I hear the garage door opening and I feel the tension easing from my shoulders. My ears are perked, waiting for the sound of Rowan to come inside. Lucy went down about an hour ago, so she’ll be waking up within the next two to eat again. Rowan hasn’t asked me to stay tonight, but I can’t leave him by himself when I’m not sure he even knows how to change a diaper.

The door to the garage opens the same time the timer on the oven goes off. Rowan walks in, his hair damp and hanging above his eyebrows. His dark blue eyes meet mine from across the room and I ignore the weird feeling in my stomach as I smile at him.

“Hey,” I say cheerfully, turning back to the stove as I turn off the timer. “I’m not sure if you ate or not after the game, but I figured I’d make something in case you didn’t.”

Instinctively, I grab the handle, opening it once more before reaching directly into the oven. I’m sleep-deprived, stressed beyond belief, and distracted by Rowan coming home that I don’t even stop to grab one of the potholders.

“Shit,” I mutter, sucking in a sharp breath as I quickly pull my hand away from the pan. My gaze falls down to my finger, looking at the redness already blossoming on my skin. I don’t know what I was thinking touching the pan without a glove.

“Oh my god, Hadley! Are you okay?” Rowan asks, immediately entering my space as he grabs my hand, inspecting my fingertips. His palm is warm against the back of my hand and my heart picks up pace in my chest—definitely from the burn, not from how goddamn close he’s standing to me. “Come here.”

Rowan gently pulls me over to the sink, his hand still caressing me as he flips on the facet, turning it to cold before he slips my hand beneath the stream. “Cold water is supposed to be better for burns,” he tells me, his voice soft as he doesn’t release me.

“Yeah,” I murmur, not telling him I already know that as electricity persists on the back of my hand, the burning feeling virtually nonexistent at this point. The faint scent of his body wash infiltrates my senses, my body betraying me as I memorize the way he smells.

Suddenly there’s someone behind me, their neck craning as their head pops over my shoulder. “Are you okay? What happened?”

He startles me and I jump, whipping my head to look over my shoulder at the stranger. His dark gray eyes meet mine and he scans my face before looking back at my hand. I remember seeing him at the hospital the night Rowan was there with a bunch of his friends, but I don’t think I’ve ever met him before. His dark brown, almost black hair is pushed to the side away from his face. The tousled, loose curls stop midway down the nape of his neck.

Rowan clears his throat, the cool air replacing his warmth as he pulls his hand away. “She grabbed the pan in the oven without a glove.” Rowan gives me a look. “You really should be more careful.”

“You don’t say,” I deadpan, giving him a blank stare before directing my gaze back to his friend. “I’m Hadley,” I say, a smile spreading across my lips. “I’d shake your hand, but you know...burnt fingers.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” The guy chuckles, his eyes bright and his smile warm. “I’m Carson Ford. Rowan told me about everything that’s going on, so I figured I’d come by and see how I can help.”

I glance at Rowan, scanning his face for anything that might give away how much he told Carson, but he’s closed off right now. His expression gives away nothing. “If you don’t mind, you can take that pan out of the oven,” I tell Carson, looking back at him. “Just make sure you use an oven mitt.”

“I’ll get it,” Rowan immediately interjects, his tone tense. I turn off the faucet, turning around to face the two of them as I wrap a paper towel around my fingers. “Ford, go grab some plates.”

Carson tips his chin at him, mumbling something under his breath as he walks over to the cupboard and begins to pull out a few plates. He walks across the room, heading through the open floor plan to the dining room as Rowan pulls out the sheet pan.

“Thank you for making food,” he says softly, his head turning to look at me. His eyes instantly find me, soft and gentle. “I know this entire situation is fucked up, but I appreciate you doing all this.”

“It’s really nothing, Rowan,” I insist, smiling at him as I finish drying my hands and inspect my fingers to avoid his gaze. There’s some remaining guilt inside my chest because in a way, I’m part of the reason he’s in this situation. “It’s the least I can do right now.”

“Whatever you made smells fucking amazing,” Carson announces as he walks back over. He pulls open a drawer, grabbing some silverware like he lives here. “They have a spread of food for us after the game, and even though it’s good, I’m sure this is a lot better. ”

A quiet laugh escapes me and I watch the softest smile grace Rowan’s lips. He motions for me to go first and the three of us head over to the table. I sit down, Rowan sitting to my left and Carson taking the seat across from me. He wastes no time, scooping some lasagna onto his plate.

“You’ll have to excuse Ford,” Rowan half grumbles as he helps himself to some food, cutting his eyes at Carson before looking back at me. “He’s not as civilized as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, right,” Carson retorts, rolling his eyes as he reaches for a glass of water. “I’m just fucking starving.”

“I promise his manners are usually better than this.”

Carson gives him the middle finger and I stifle a laugh, my lips rolling in between my teeth as I bite back a grin. “I’ll just take it as a compliment.”

Rowan watches me for a moment before he starts to eat. I watch the satisfaction immediately hit him, his eyelids fluttering shut as he lets out a soft moan. “Jesus, this is really good,” he murmurs, his eyes opening as he looks directly at me.

“Right?” Carson chimes in. “I may have to fire my chef and hire you instead.”

“Nope,” Rowan argues, shaking his head at his friend. “She’s mine. You can’t have her.”

Amusement engulfs me and I settle in my seat, digging into my own food as I listen to the two of them volleying back and forth. Compliments tend to make me feel awkward, but I’m actually enjoying this. Rowan’s friend is more amusing than I expected him to be and he has no problem giving Rowan shit like the two of them are brothers.

It’s comforting to know Rowan has those kinds of relationships in his life, especially because he doesn’t have that with his own brother.

After everyone finishes eating, Carson insists on meeting Lucy. Rowan glances at me for backup, but I know he has to do this on his own. I’m not going to be able to stay here forever. I won’t always be able to hold his hand.

“I’m going to clean up, but she’s in the living room sleeping,” I tell the two of them, my gaze meeting Rowan’s as I attempt to give him an encouraging look. I’m not sure if he picks up on my nonverbal cues or not, but with the tense look on his face, I don’t think he does.

He doesn’t protest and he doesn’t argue, which is refreshing. Turning around, I walk over to the sink as they disappear into the living room. I busy myself with the dishes, continuously resisting the urge to look over my shoulder. Rowan needs to be able to do this himself. The rest of his life might change after tomorrow and I need to know he can handle this.

I need to know he’ll be able to do this without me here.

When I finish up, I walk into the living room just as Lucy is beginning to wake up. Carson and Rowan are both staring at her like she has two heads and they immediately look at me as I walk into the room.

“Well, pick her up,” Carson instructs Rowan, looking at him then back to the baby as she starts to cry.

Rowan’s eyes widen. “You do it.”

“You have a baby in your house and you don’t even know how to pick her up?” Carson huffs, shaking his head at Rowan as he slides his hands under her, lifting her into the air before pulling her against his body. “You just have to make sure you support her head and her neck and then her bottom.” Carson scrunches his nose. “She almost smells as bad as you do.”

“Here, I can change her,” I tell Carson, offering to take the baby. Rowan is quiet as he observes the two of us, watching Carson slipping her into my arms. “Oh my gosh, she does stink!”

Carson waves his hand in front of his nose. “Okay, I think this is my cue to go home now.”

Rowan narrows his eyes at him, helping me with the changing pad we’ve been using for now. “I thought you were coming here to help.”

“You have Hadley.” He shrugs and my heart sinks at the sentiment. He has me here now...but that’s all going to change. “I think you’ll be just fine.”

Rowan looks at me and I smile, my chin lowering and lifting. “He’s right,” I tell him, ignoring the feeling swirling in the pit of my stomach. “We’re good. We’ve got this.”

As Carson says bye and heads to the door, Rowan stays, appearing awkward as he stands next to me while I sit on the couch. I glance up at him, watching his eyes widen as he sees the mess in Lucy’s diaper. “Do you want to help?”

His eyes widen further, if possible. “I don’t—I don’t know.” He pauses, a nervous laugh escaping him. “How can a tiny person have so much shit come out of them?”

“It’s a mystery none of us will ever know.”

I give Rowan grace and go about my business cleaning her up. We can start easier with the next diaper, presuming it’s just a pee diaper instead of poop. We’re going to have to take small, baby steps if I want him to be completely comfortable by the time I have to leave.

Rowan grabs a bowl of water and some washcloths and soap, offering his assistance as I clean her up, but he doesn’t dare to touch her. After I finish getting her dried and dressed, I lift her up, motioning for Rowan to sit down beside me.

“Can you hold her for me while I run to the bathroom?”

Fear passes through his eyes. His lips part and he abruptly closes them, anxiety encapsulating his expression. “Can’t you put her down?”

I stare at him for a moment. “Rowan. Your entire life might change tomorrow, so you’re going to have to be comfortable with her, and that starts with holding her.”

“I fucking know that, Hadley,” he says softly, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m afraid to hold her. I’m afraid to do anything because what if I do it wrong?”

My heart splinters, his words seeping into the cracks. “You don’t have to be afraid.,” I tell him, my voice tender as I reach to grab his hand. “I’ll show you how to do it.”

His eyes meet mine. “Okay.” He holds his hands out, reaching for the baby. “Tell me what to do.”

“Put your left hand under her head, but while also supporting her neck,” I instruct him, his hand radiating warmth as he slides it beneath my palm. “Put your other under her bottom and bring her close to your body.” He does as I say, his fear palpable. I show him how to transition her from his hands into being cradled in his arms.

His body is stiff, but she’s nestled in the crook of his elbow, staring up at him as she lifts her hands to her mouth. He relaxes the slightest bit, easing back against the couch as he settles with her against his body. He would never believe me if I told him, but he looks as natural as any new father does.

“You’re doing great, Rowan,” I tell him, my hand resting on his forearm for a moment before I give him a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to go get a bottle for her and then I’ll show you how to feed her and burp her.”

His mouth relaxes into a soft grin. “You’re really giving me a crash course here, aren’t you?”

My heart constricts again. “You have to learn one way or another, right?”

“Right,” he says, his voice trailing off, his eyes assessing me as if he knows there’s something I’m not telling him, but he doesn’t comment on it.

I spin on my heel to head into the bathroom before he changes his mind. Tonight isn’t the night to tell him I’m supposed to be leaving soon. These past twenty-four hours have put this poor man through a whirlwind of emotions. The last thing I want to do is make him feel like he’s going to be doing this by himself. He needs confidence, he needs to be comfortable with her before I tell him.

Tomorrow, we will know the truth about his future.

Tomorrow, we will know whether or not Lucy is his.