Page 70 of Hat Trick Daddies

Tears streak down my cheeks, hot and relentless, as I rock myself gently. My future feels like it’s crumbling around me, each sob pulling me deeper into despair.

I don’t know how long I lay there, shaking and crying.

The sobs rack my body again as I lie curled up in bed, the blanket pulled tightly around me like a shield against the world. My dad’s voice, loud and angry, echoes in my head even though he isn’t here.

“I didn’t raise you as a hockey fan so you could become some puck-bunny slut that gets knocked up by three men on the same team you work for!”

The imagined words cut deep, and the tears pour down my face in hot, relentless streams. I can almost see the disappointment in his eyes, the way he’d shake his head, unable to even look at me.

My stomach churns, and a wave of nausea hits me, not from the pregnancy, but from the thought of how furious he’ll be. Dad’s always been my rock, but this? This might break him.

I clutch the pillow tighter, trying to muffle the sound of my sobs, but they just keep coming, raw and uncontrollable. My throat feels raw, and my chest aches like my heart is physically cracking apart.

Then, suddenly, the sound of the doorbell cuts through the quiet of the apartment.

I freeze, my breath hitching. For a second, I think I imagined it. But then it rings again, sharp and insistent, echoing through the empty spaces of my small living space.

I sit up slowly, wiping at my tear-streaked face with trembling hands. Who could that be?

Dragging myself out of bed feels like wading through quicksand. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I shuffle toward the door, and a groan escapes my lips.

My reflection stares back at me, puffy-eyed and blotchy, my hair sticking out in wild directions. I look every bit the emotional wreck I feel like inside.

Taking a deep breath, I try to pull myself together, smoothing down my hoodie and swiping at my face one last time. Whoever’s at the door is about to see me in my absolute worst state, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.

When I open the door, Kenzie is standing there, her expression a mix of concern and determination.

“Ally!” she exclaims, rushing forward and pulling me into a tight hug before I can even say a word. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

I nod weakly, though it’s clear I’m anything but.

Kenzie steps inside, shutting the door behind her, and guides me to the couch. She doesn’t let go of me as we sit down, one hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.

“Talk to me,” she says gently, her gray eyes searching my face. “What’s going on? Did…did someone die?”

The absurdity of the question almost makes me laugh, but instead, a fresh wave of tears wells up.

“No one’s dead,” I mumble into my hands, my voice muffled and trembling. “Not yet, anyway.”

Kenzie’s brows knit together in concern, and she scoots closer, leaning in like she’s trying to physically pull the truth out of me.

“Ally, you’re scaring me,” she says softly. “What happened? You’ve got to tell me.”

I shake my head, burying my face deeper into my hands. How am I supposed to explain this? Kenzie doesn’t even know I’ve been sleeping with anyone on the team, let alone three of them.

The words feel like they’re caught in my throat, a lump of fear and shame that refuses to budge.

“Ally,” Kenzie urges, her voice firm but kind. “You know you can trust me, right? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

I peek at her through my fingers, her kind eyes and genuine concern chipping away at my walls.

Still, the thought of saying it out loud makes my stomach twist.

“I…” I start, my voice cracking. “It’s…complicated.”

Kenzie places a hand on my knee. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sincerity in her voice breaks something loose inside me, and before I can stop myself, the words come tumbling out.

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