Page 75 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
“Who they are doesn’t matter, Leighton. What I wanna know is why they’re here.” Wyatt hurls the question into the room like a grenade.
I grab the first excuse I can. “We were talking about moving some of my things. They offered to help.”
Not exactly a lie. But not exactly the truth, either.
“Well, Dad and I are here now,” Wyatt says, voice hard. “We’ll handle it. What’d you buy, new furniture?”
Nope. And this is where my paper-thin excuse starts to disintegrate. But I’m in too deep to back out now.
“I was just rearranging,” I say, waving vaguely at the sofa, chair, and coffee table, avoiding specifics like my life depends on it.
Wyatt crosses his arms, setting his feet wide. “At ten o’clock at night?”
Shane mirrors him, crossing his arms too. But where Wyatt looks tough, Shane’s muscles flex like they’re sculpted for war, and when he steps forward, it’s impossible not to notice the size difference.
“What of it?”
Wyatt doesn’t flinch. “I just find it weird that this is all happening at such a late hour. And that it takesthreeof you to move a couch. Thought hockey players were supposed to be strong.” His eyes sweep over Shane, David, and Andy, slow and dismissive. “Maybe not.”
David keeps it cool, not even blinking. Andy’s face remains unreadable, dead calm. Shane, though. Shane looks ready to explode. His eyes narrow into slits, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched so tight I swear I hear it crack.
And right when I think this is about to turn into a full-on pissing contest, Luna’s soft fussing shoots into a piercing wail from her room.
I pivot toward her door, ready to bolt, but hesitate. If I leave, who the hell knows what might go down in here? Wyatt was born to stir the pot. Black eyes were practically a hobby whenwe were kids. And sure, now he’s got a badge instead of bare knuckles… but I’m not convinced he’s grown out of brawling.
Not one bit. Worse, I’m not sure I can trust Shane not to respond to his taunts.
Luna’s full-on shrieking now, leaving me no choice. Maybe it shouldn’t piss me off even more, but it does.
“Awesome, guys. Thanks for waking Luna,” I snap, my voice sharp.
I storm out, letting my anger crash over them like a wave. Will it shut them up? Who knows. But it’s worth a shot.
In her room, I scoop up my scarlet-faced daughter, bouncing her against my chest. Her cries taper off to whimpers, and I take a second to breathe with her. Diaper—check. Change—done. Once she’s calmer, I stride back into the living room. Even Wyatt’s got to have the sense to tone it down with a baby around.
To be sure, I plop her straight into Wyatt’s arms. “Hold her while I grab her some milk.”
With Luna nestled up to him, Wyatt’s immediately sucked into her orbit, cooing and making faces. Bless him for being distracted, because I need a damn minute. I dart into the kitchen, grab her favorite sippy cup, and fill it halfway with warm milk.
“Who’s all grumpy, huh? Who’s all grumpy today?” Wyatt’s voice goes full cartoon character, his thick Newark accent on display like he’s starring inJersey Shore: Baby Edition.It might be funny… if my blood pressure wasn’t still pegged in the red.
I come back to the table. “Shoot,” I mutter, catching myself, no swearing around Luna. “I forgot some napkins. Wyatt, would you grab it for me?”
Yeah. I didn’t forget. I need him out of the way, even for thirty seconds, as I get Luna settled on the table. Thankfully, she’s already heavy-lidded again. Then, casual as hell, I call out, “Oh, and if you guys are hungry or thirsty after your trip, the fridge is stocked. Help yourselves.”
And seriously, take a damn chill pill while you’re at it.
When Wyatt’s back, soda in hand and napkins in the other, I pounce on the chance to keep the air light. I hand her over to Dad so he can finish feeding her and launch into a running commentary on everything Luna’s been up to lately—her new words, her obsession with stacking blocks, her dramatic fake sneezes. Every adorable little detail.
Notably leaving out one word in particular. No way in hell am I bringing up “Dada.” That would be the biggest trigger for my brother right now.
The strategy actually works. For about five whole minutes.
Then Dad hands Luna over to Wyatt so he can hit the bathroom. I don’t know why that moment is what lights a fire in my brother’s brain, but sure enough, as he glances from Luna’s slate-gray eyes up to Shane’s identical ones, my stomach plunges straight through the floor.
And when Wyatt literally lifts Luna up next to Shane’s face like he’s lining up a damn police sketch?
Fuck.
