Page 25

TWENTY-ONE

HANNAH

“How many pieces did you eat?” Oliver’s jaw drops.

Across the table, Noah laughs. “You should have seen her in high school. First time I had pizza with her, she finished five slices without looking up. I always order an extra pie now.”

I roll my eyes. He’s totally exaggerating. I had four slices that day. Might have even been three. But Noah could house one pizza on his own, which he did tonight, by the way. Oliver and I shared the second one. “You’re just lucky you put pineapple on yours so neither of us touched it,” I tease.

Oliver makes a gagging noise. “Seriously, Dad. You are the uncoolest pizza eater ever.”

Noah tosses his wadded-up paper towel across the table and hits Oliver in the chest. “Go put on pajamas and brush your teeth. Then you can pick a movie.”

Oliver sticks out his bottom lip. “Can we play a game instead?”

Noah arches a brow, focus drifting to me. When I nod subtly, he gives Oliver the go-ahead.

The little guy scrambles off his seat, but before he can get far, Noah clears his throat.

“You forgetting something?” he says, holding out his arms.

His sweet little boy runs toward him, his little body darting across the room far faster than I could travel, and launches himself in for a big hug. I breathe out a small laugh as I watch them. Noah is a great dad. Is this what Daniel’s relationship with our child will be like? The thought instantly has tears threatening to spill. I suppose it will be similar in the sense that a woman who isn’t our child’s mother will be sitting with him or her and Daniel during his parenting time. While during my time, I’ll probably be right here, doing this—hanging out with my brother and my nephew.

The thought sours my stomach, but before I can think too hard about it, Oliver is launching himself into my chest.

He comes at me with so much force my chair tilts, but before I can go down, Noah steadies it.

“Be careful with your Aunt Hannah.” His tone is chiding but soft. He never raises his voice to his son.

I wrap my arms around the little guy and squeeze. When I release him, I run my fingers through his silky hair. “It’s okay. I appreciate the hug.” More than I can say. I can’t remember the last time someone truly hugged me. It melts my heart every time Noah hugs his son. Oliver will always know he’s loved, that’s obvious.

When he rushes off, yelling that we should set up Jenga while he gets ready, we both laugh.

“He’s a good kid.” I stand and pick up my plate and Oliver’s, then head to the kitchen. Noah follows with his and all three of our plastic cups. That’s another thing I love about Noah. He doesn’t judge my hatred for doing dishes or my overuse of paper products. With my hectic work schedule, using the dishwasher typically means the dishes sit too long. Sometimes clean, but sometimes dirty, and that is the worst kind of welcome to receive after days on the road.

I close one pizza box and stack it on the other, but Noah bumps me out of the way gently.

“Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m pregnant, not injured.” Despite my argument, I shuffle back to the table and drop into my chair. After ten days of travel, I am exhausted. It’s more mental than physical this time. Probably because of the mental gymnastics I’ve been doing while I try to come to terms with this pregnancy.

I can’t stop stressing over things like whether I’m supposed to call Daniel and make plans to see him. A part of me wants to—maybe a big part of me—but the other part, the girl who knows how this works, keeps coming back around to how unwise it would be to get attached. And it could be so easy to do that. He’s just too sweet. I genuinely enjoy spending time with him. But I don’t really know him, and he most certainly doesn’t know me. He knows the fun, loud Hannah. The person I am out in a crowd or at work, when I’m dealing with the baseball neanderthals. The attitude I have to wear. It’s not a mask, per se, because I truly am that person. But that’s only one facet of my personality.

And he’s truly never seen the rest of me. Not many people have.

“Speaking of that…” Noah says as he shoves the plates into the trash.

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the spiel he’s about to give me. The one about how he thinks Daniel should be here?—

“The baby will need his or her own room in a few months, so I have an appointment with a realtor tomorrow.”

I panic. Straight-up panic. Nervousness claws at my chest at the thought of them leaving. Of being alone in this apartment again. Of taking care of a child by myself. I don’t know how to be a mom. My mother didn’t have the kind of warmth Noah shows his son so easily. I thought he’d be here to help, to guide me, to show me how to be a parent.

“The baby can stay in my room.”

Noah drops the pizza boxes onto the counter and strides my way. “I just figured you’d want privacy.” He settles opposite me, his arms folded across his chest. “And the space.”

I shake my head. “I don’t.”

For a long moment, he’s quiet, studying me. Eventually he nods. “Whatever you want. But if you change your mind, just tell me.”

Before I can reply, my phone buzzes on the table between us and Daniel’s name flashes on the screen.

Noah knocks on the table once and stands. “I’ll finish with the kitchen, and then I’m going to get changed.”

As he disappears, I pick up my phone, excitement causing my lips to tip up.

Stop. He’s probably just asking how you feel. Again.

It’s his go-to question. He’s only reaching out because we’re having a baby. If we weren’t, he’d have moved on long ago.

Having adequately talked my excitement down, I unlock the screen and read the text.

Daniel: I fucked up.

My stomach sinks and the multitude of wrongs he could have committed filter through my mind. As each enters, I work through a way to deal with it. Until I’ve come up with a quick plan for them all, I can’t reply.

Daniel: Can I come over? We need to talk.

I blow out a breath. It’s always better to deal with things in person. That way there’s no risk of texts being leaked.

Me: Noah and Oliver are here, but sure.

Daniel: Never mind. We can talk later.

A harsh laugh escapes me.

Me: you can’t drop an avalanche on me and then say never mind. Get your butt over here. We’re playing Jenga—the big blocks—we can talk, and then you can be on my team.

Daniel: If you still want me to stick around after, sure.

My stomach swirls with nerves as I set my phone down on the table.

Fuckity fuck. What the hell did Daniel do?

Five minutes later, Daniel is knocking on my door. Makes me wonder if he was sitting outside again.

The moment I open the door, I’m hit with the smell of cigar and his cologne. The man standing on the other side wears the hell out of a pair of shorts and a polo shirt. I’ve seen Daniel in all types of clothing. Suits, hockey gear, T-shirts. Naked. But god, there is something extra attractive about the way the black polo tugs across his chest and how his muscled thighs cause his baby blue shorts to creep a smidge higher than they should be. Not even models can pull the look off like he does. Must be all the skating he does, because his thighs have my mouth watering.

I wave him inside. “Spend the night in a cigar bar?”

Rather than coming in, he takes a step back, his face falling. “Sorry, I changed my shirt and sprayed cologne. Is it too strong? We can do this another time.”

I grab his arm and tug him inside. “I like the smell. Stop being weird and tell me how much of a fuck-up this is.”

He ducks his head and scans the space. “Where’s Noah?”

I roll my eyes. “He’s helping Oliver get changed. Talk.”

Teeth sunken into his lower lip and his hands in his pockets, he assesses me from beneath lowered lashes. “I told Beckett you’re pregnant.”

Relief crashes over me like an ocean wave. “Jesus.” I laugh. “You had me sitting here freaking out for that?”

He straightens, his eyes narrowing. “I told your boss that you’re pregnant.”

I shrug. “Can’t wait to see what the big guy buys to congratulate us.”

“Why are you acting so calm?”

“I was worried you were going to tell me you knocked up someone else and that you now had two baby mamas. I was working through ways to not only co-parent with you but some puck bunny, and I—” I shake my head and laugh. “Anyway, of all the scenarios running through my head, this is far, far better.”

His brows pinch together. “You thought I knocked up someone else?” He scowls.

“I’m sure one baby mama is more than enough for you.” I wave it off, hoping he’ll let it go.

He steps so close I can’t help but inhale him. “Stop calling yourself that. I haven’t slept with anyone but you this year. There’s no chance anyone else is pregnant.”

Momentarily off balance, all I can do is gape. Seriously? He hasn’t slept with anyone else this year ? We’re almost six months in.

Maybe I’m not the only one who presents only one part of who I am to the public.

“Are we good?” he asks, gaze sweeping over me.

Without my permission, my attention slides to his lips, and when he wets them, I whimper.

At the sound, he leans in, but before we make the catastrophic mistake of falling victim to the sexual chemistry again, a little voice interrupts us.

“Who’s that?”

Heart stuttering, I pull back. “Oliver, this is my friend Daniel. He plays hockey with your dad. Daniel, this is my nephew Oliver.”

Daniel crouches so he’s eye to eye with Oliver and holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you, buddy.”

The little guy scrutinizes him through narrowed eyes but takes his hand. “You smell funny. Like my dad does sometimes.”

Noah laughs as he approaches, hand held out to Daniel. The move is friendly enough, even if he’s assessing Daniel just as intently as his son was. “Hey, Hall. You joining us for Jenga?”

“Why’d he call you Hall?” Oliver squints at Daniel, then me. “Why do hockey players have so many names?”

The three of us burst into laughter, the moment of levity thankfully easing some of the tension in the room.

“It’s my last name,” Daniel tells him. “You can call me whatever you want.”

Lips pursed and pushed to one side, Oliver peers up at each of us again. Then he shrugs. “Aunt Hannah calls you Daniel, so I will too.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue. I so want to tell my nephew to call him Baby Hall.

Daniel quirks a brow like he can read my mind, but his lips tip up. “Yeah, your aunt is pretty smart, so that works for me.”

We settle in the living room and take turns sliding Jenga blocks off the tower. When the whole thing topples on Daniel, Oliver giggles so hard he falls over too, and with him, he takes the last bit of tension between the adults.

At bedtime, Oliver doesn’t need a reminder to give hugs, and when he doesn’t hesitate to offer Daniel one too, Noah smiles at me.

“I’m going to take this one to bed, so I’ll say good night now.” He nods at Daniel and then he and his little guy disappear.

“I didn’t know he had a kid,” Daniel admits.

“Really?”

He shrugs. “I tried really hard not to pay attention to him when he got here.”

My chest aches for him. I can imagine it was hard. Noah was traded late in the season, and then Gavin moved Daniel from the first line to second. “You guys seemed to get along tonight, though.” I can’t hide the hope in my tone. Noah is the closest thing I have to family, and for some reason, I want the two of them to like one another.

With a smile, he rubs his hands down his thighs. “Yeah, now that I know he isn’t trying to date you, we’re all good.”

My stomach lurches. “Ew.”

He laughs. “My sentiments exactly.”

Silence descends as his laughter dies. Then we’re just looking at one another. Will he leave now? That’s what he should do. We dealt with the alleged emergency, and he stayed for the game. But, ridiculously, I don’t want him to go.

He angles closer and sweeps my hair behind my ear. Then his warm palm falls to my neck, his thumb brushing the skin there, sending shivers down my spine with every move.

“What are you thinking?” I whisper as he holds himself still.

His lips hook into a half smile. “That I really want to kiss you, but I don’t know what the rules are anymore.”

Instantly, my instincts kick in, and I can’t help but taunt him. “Since when do you care about rules?”

He licks his lips and inches closer. “Since I started caring about the outcome.”

My stomach swoops, my words barely audible. “And what outcome are you hoping for?”

He hovers even closer, and just when I think he’s going to kiss me, he rests his head on my shoulder and pulls me in for a hug. My heart squeezes at the unexpected and ridiculously sweet gesture. I have to suck in a breath to keep my emotions in check before I hug him back.

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks.

“Out?”

“Yes. I’d love to spend more time with you, but it’s late, and you need your rest.”

A hint of sorrow threads through my veins. I don’t want to rest. I want Daniel to kiss me and then carry me to my room and make me forget every single obligation, every responsibility. If just for a little while.

I don’t tell him that. He hugged me. He didn’t kiss me. I don’t know what that means, but I do know that I want to spend more time with him too, so I nod. “Okay. We can do something tomorrow.”

His face lights up in a mixture of delight and surprise, like he thought I’d say no. He pulls me in for another hug, this time hauling me onto his lap. When he stands, a jolt of excitement hits me. It quickly fizzles out, though, when he sets me on my feet. With a kiss on my cheek, he heads for the door.

“Night, dream girl.” He steps out into the hall and gives me a small wave.

“Good night, Daniel.”