Page 75 of Hooked On Them

My heart stuttered. “I didn’t know that.”

“You’re also standing differently.” He gestured vaguely at my posture. “Weight on your heels instead of the balls of your feet. Just like she did.”

Oh fuck. Ohfuck.

I’d planned on telling him tonight, but not thirty seconds after he walked in the door.

“I, uh...” Words failed me. “How about we sit down?”

He nodded, his face softening in that way it did when he was about to impart some fatherly wisdom. “Whatever you want, kiddo.”

Kiddo? He hadn’t called me that since I was a literal kid. The word hit me with a rush of nostalgia and a jolt of terror. It was like I was twelve again, falling on the ice and hearing his voice as he told me to get back up and try again.

Here I was, almost twenty-nine years old, pregnant, and suddenly reduced to being someone’s little girl again. The irony that I was about to tell him I was going to have a little one of my own wasn’t lost on me.

We moved to the living room, and I perched on the edge of the couch while Dad settled into the armchair opposite me. The silence stretched between us, heavy with things unsaid.

How was I going to do this?

I nearly face-palmed as I remembered the present I was saving for Christmas when I’d originally planned on telling him. “I got you an early Christmas present.” I stood up abruptly, nearly knocking a throw pillow off the couch in my haste. “Let me grab it.”

In my bedroom, I pulled the small, wrapped package from a shelf in my closet. I’d debated for weeks about how to tell him, finally settling on a tiny baby-sized Pacific Storm jersey with his old number and name on the back.

Did I cry when it came in the mail? Why, yes, yes, I did, because my tear ducts now seemed to be permanently switched on.

My hand trembled as I returned to the living room and held out the package. “Here.”

Dad took it with an amused smile. “Christmas isn’t for another week.”

“I know, but it felt right for tonight.” I sat back down on the couch, pulling a pillow into my lap for comfort.

He unwrapped the package methodically, the way he always did, carefully unsealing the tape rather than tearing the paper. When he opened the box and pulled out the tiny jersey, his hands went completely still.

I waited for the lecture. The disappointment. The barrage of questions about my life choices.

Instead, he stared at the miniature jersey, running his thumb over the embroidered number. When he finally looked up at me, his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“Your mom would’ve been over the moon,” he said softly.

Something cracked open inside me, a dam I hadn’t realized I’d been holding together. Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. “I wish she was here. I don’t know what I’m doing, Dad.” The words caught in my throat.

“None of us do.” He set the jersey carefully on the coffee table and moved to sit beside me on the couch, pulling me into a hug. “That’s the secret no one tells you about parenthood. We’re all making it up as we go.”

Wasn’t that the truth. “You aren’t mad?” My voice came out small and uncertain.

He pulled back, his expression very serious, those familiar creases appearing between his brows the way they always did when he was giving something his full attention. “Why would I be mad?”

“I hadn’t planned on this.” I bit my lip.

My dad had always been protective of both me and Josie when it came to dating. Telling him I was having a baby with someone from my team? That was a whole new level of complicated.

“It’s Collins’s, isn’t it? I’ve seen the headlines.” He didn’t look the least bit surprised or angry about the fact, which put an even bigger stone of dread in my stomach since Miles wasn’t the father.

I froze, panic flooding my system. “Headlines?”

“I have a Google alert set up with your name. It was on a hockey forum about the love lives of players.” He pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, then turned the screen toward me.

There was a blurry photo of Miles and me, his arm protectively around my shoulders. I didn’t even bother to read the caption or the few visible comments. I did not need whatever negativity was there in my life.

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