Page 11 of Blue Lines and Lullabies

“I think I already said no, jerk face,” she retorts.

“Jerk face? Is that the best you can do?” I ask.

“No, but I’m not going to say what I really think in front of a child.”

I lean toward her in a mocking manner before whispering, “Pretty sure she won’t be repeating things for a bit, so by all means, say what you want to say.”

Cassie’s face reddens as her hands clenched tightly into fists. “Fine, asshole. You want me to be honest? You’re just a typical hockey fuck boy. You do whatever you want, and you don’t think about any repercussions. I bet you wouldn’t even be in that little girl’s life if her mom hadn’t passed away. You take and take and take. I feel pity for your daughter, and that she’ll have to grow up withyouas a father.”

I feel the blood drain out of my face as I reflect on her words. It’s so quiet we can hear interstate traffic from a mile away. Grant looks miserably at me, unsure of how to speak. Jax has a minor smirk on his face, and Levi is shooting fiery glances between me and Cassie.

Cassie looks momentarily chagrined as she attempts to speak. “That was unnecessary. I was out of line, and —”

“No,” I interrupt. “You made your point. Best if you stop talking now. I’m going upstairs. Let yourselves out, please.”

I grab the hospital bag with everything I’ll need for Mackenzie, then make my way back up the stairs.

What she said isn’t too far off what most people think about professional athletes as a whole. People definitely think similar thoughts about hockey guys. And I’m sure there have been times when I’ve fit that mold with horrifying accuracy. But it had been months since I’d slept with anyone. Hell, Nicole might have been the last one-night stand I had. I dated someone briefly for about a month. It was apparent we were on different pages, and we separated amicably.

As I quietly close my bedroom door, I hear Grant yelling at Cassie. “This was the perfect job for you, Cass, and your mouth just had to go and fuck it up! He was going to let you live here rent-free!”

We hadn’t actually discussed the rent, but I probably would have let her.

Three hours later, I wish I had begged Cassie to stay. Mackenzie hasn’t stopped crying, and I’m at a loss as to what to do. I called my mom, and she began crying when she heard her granddaughter. I hung up when I realized she wasn’t in any way able to help when she appeared to be hysterical at the same time.

I’d changed her, fed her, changed her again, tried on three different outfits of differing fabrics to see if one possibly irritated her, and then began pacing back and forth across my bedroom. I hadn’t thought about the outfits being an issue, but Levi suggested it. He wasn’t too thrilled when I called him for the fourth time, but he patiently walked me through what he remembered from the newborn stage. The only thing that seemed to settle her down was the constant movement, patting her diapered tush, and humming Britney Spears songs. Kenzie apparently has an affinity for…Baby, One More Time, because that settles her down immediately. I’m deep in a rousing rendition for the sixth or seventh time, so I don’t hear my bedroom door open. When I turn and see an outline of a body, I jump and yell simultaneously, frightening my daughter and making her cry again.

“Oh, shoot,” a female voice says fretfully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, and make her cry.”

“Shh, shh, shh,” I whisper in Kenzie’s ear. “It’s okay, sweet girl. I’ve got you. Daddy’s got you.” When she settles back down, I turn and glare at a remorseful Cassie. “What the hell are you still doing here?”

“Grant wouldn’t let me leave,” she blurts out. “He said I needed to apologize to you, that I didn’t know the whole story, and that I’d misjudged you.”

“He left you here?” I ask incredulously.

“No, he’s asleep on your couch. He said he’d wait me out, because I was being a stubborn ass.”

“He’s not wrong,” I mutter. I see her staring at Kenzie’s diapered bottom, and my brow furrows in confusion. “Is there an issue?”

“Hmm?” Cassie asks.

“Why are you staring at her diaper?”

“Oh, I’m not staring at her diaper. It’s just … you’re not wearing a shirt,” Cassie stammers.

“And?”

“Well, why aren’t you wearing one? You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“You barged into my bedroom uninvited, and you have the audacity to tell me you’re uncomfortable? That’s rich,” I laugh. “It’s skin-to-skin. The nurses said Mackenzie would like it. It’s the only thing that is settling her down right now.”

“Have you tried swaddling?” Cassie asks.

“Is that when they look like a baby burrito?”

Cassie giggles, and it reminds me of the Cassie I first met. “Yes, like a burrito. Swaddling puts pressure on the entire body, which makes babies feel like they’re back in the womb. It’s comforting to most, but some babies hate it.”

“She seemed to like it in the hospital,” I murmur.

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