Page 83 of Hat Trick Daddies

What do I even say? The silence in the vehicle feels suffocating. With a deep breath, I unlock my phone and open the group chat.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard before I type.

>> It’s all taken care of now. We won’t hear from Tiffany anymore.

I hit send and lean back, exhaling. The screen lights up almost immediately as messages start to flood in.

>> Wait… it was Tiffany?!

Nick replies first, his disbelief clear even through the text.

Tyler’s response follows just seconds later.

>> What the hell?

I stare at their words, the knot in my chest tightening.

Of course, they’re horrified. Hell, I am too.

But before I can type a reply, Ally’s message pops up.

>> Fine.

The word feels cold, distant, a stab to the gut. A moment later, she sends more.

>> I don’t know what you did, but I still think I might resign and move.

My stomach churns as I read her words, the weight of them pressing down on me. Nick and Tyler are already typing again, their messages popping up one after another.

Tyler pleading text pops up.

>> Don’t do that!

Then Nick’s.

>> We’ll stand by you, no matter what happens.

I type quickly, trying to reinforce their words.

>> Tiffany promised to keep quiet, Ally. You don’t have to go anywhere.

But her reply stings worse than silence.

>> She’s probably lying, Brooks. I deserve this. I’ve been so irresponsible.

We keep typing, trying to reassure her, to talk about the baby, to convince her that this isn’t the end. But one by one, our messages go unanswered.

The chat feels emptier than ever.

I toss my phone onto the passenger seat, my frustration boiling over.

The unanswered texts glare back at me from the screen. Ally’s silence is like a gaping void, and it’s eating me alive. I slam my fists against the steering wheel, the dull thud reverberating through the cabin.

The drive home is a blur of streetlights and darkened roads. My thoughts spiral, looping through every possible scenario.

What if she quits? What if she moves? What if she disappears entirely?

When I finally pull into the driveway, I don’t even bother cutting the engine right away. After a long moment, I shut off the truck, and I get out, the night air sharp and bracing against my heated skin.

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