Page 82 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
I blink at how she simply states this right in front of their father. But dear old dad doesn’t bat an eye. Either he’s very open and progressive about such things, or he’s hard of hearing. I’m making up my mind about which, when Leighton prompts her brother.
Wyatt snorts. “Yeah, well… that’s gonna take some time.”
Leighton doesn’t even blink. “That’s fine. Take your time. But get there. Because this isn’t changing. I want Luna to have all of you in her life. And that means we’ve all got to figure out how to be around each other.”
Wyatt finally looks up, his gaze landing on us. He’s not hostile anymore, just tired. “Just… take care of my family, all right?”
Shane rests a hand flat on the table, voice low but unshakable. “They are our family too.”
The words just hang there, weighty and full of truth. For a beat, no one moves. No one even breathes. And then, Wyatt’s eyes flicker. Something shifts. It’s small, almost too quick to catch, but it’s there. The hard edge dulls, the tension in his shoulders loosens just a fraction, like maybe, just maybe, he believes it.
Across the table, Shane, David, and I exchange the briefest glance. Hopeful. Grounded. Like we’re all thinking the same thing: she still wants this. Wants us.
David clears his throat, breaking the quiet, and slides a small box across the table. “Here, Lu-Lu. These are for you.”
Luna gasps like we’ve handed her a treasure chest, eyes shining as she rips the box open and immediately grabs a fistful of crayons, attacking the paper with wild, gleeful strokes.
I can’t stop watching her, a tiny whirlwind of joy, and my chest swells in the best and worst way. Under my breath, barely more than a vow, I murmur, “We’ll take care of them.”
Her dad claps his hands together, quick and crisp, cutting through the moment like a blade. “Well, that’s our cue to hit the ball pit, isn’t it, sweetheart?”
“Baw pitt!” Luna shrieks, tossing her crayons aside without a second thought, like she’s been waiting her whole life for this exact second.
We all shuffle out of the booth to let her dad and Wyatt take her, and the second they’re out of earshot, Leighton steps in close. She reaches for me first, cupping my jaw, her fingers warm and gentle against my scruff. Not flirty. Not teasing. Just… something that matters. A quiet thank you, a reassurance, a promise. A look that tells me, tells all of us, that this is where we’re meant to be.
And yeah, that’s the kind of touch you feel deep, long after it’s gone.
She moves to David next, her palm pressing softly to his chest, her smile blooming just a bit wider. Then, with Shane, she rises on tiptoe and brushes a light kiss against his cheek. Barely there,but you’d think she gave him the damn moon by the way his eyes glow.
And when she smiles at all three of us, bright, a little shy, but full of something real. I feel it deep down in my bones.
It’s going to be okay.
And I swear to god, we’ll fight like hell to keep it that way.
Chapter 26
Shane
Having Leighton’s and Luna’s family head back to Jersey is a damn relief. No use pretending otherwise. I might’ve deserved to pop Wyatt that night, but it sure as hell didn’t earn me any points. Tension hung in the air like smoke after a house fire. Still, we made it through their visit without anyone else throwing punches, which I’ll count as progress.
But I’ve been carrying this quiet worry around like a stone in my pocket. That maybe, no matter how much time passed, Leighton would always see me as the guy who snapped. A loaded gun. Even if I was defending what’s mine,who’smine, she might only remember the explosion, not the reason behind it. I’ve apologized a hundred different ways, but it wasn’t until that night at the pizzeria that something shifted. She let me in, and since then, she hasn’t stopped.
It’s subtle, but it’s real. The way her eyes meet mine and don’t flinch. The way her voice softens when she says my name. Thetrust is coming back. And that’s the slate I care about. That’s the one I need clean.
Over the next month, the five of us fall into this strange, beautiful rhythm. Mostly at David’s place. Still platonic… for now. No midnight sneaking, no stolen kisses. But the air between us? It crackles.
Touches that linger a little too long. Fingertips that graze down my back when she passes. Her laugh echoing down the hallway. The way she watches me read to Luna at night, like she’s memorizing the shape of the moment. Like she sees it too—this thing between us, still simmering under the surface.
The tension is brutal. Addictive. I feel it every time she’s near me.
Then one morning, after a long, brutal practice, we round the same corner at the same time. I run right into her, knocking her off balance. My gear crashes to the floor, but I don’t care. My arms catch her automatically, one around her waist, the other locking around her wrist.
She gasps. Her palm flies up to my shoulder, holding on. Her chest is pressed against mine, and I can feel her heartbeat pounding as hard as mine. Her breath shudders. I dip my head, breathing her in, a warm, sweet scent, and whisper into the crook of her neck, low and rough:
“I miss you.”
No one’s around. Just us. Her grip tightens around me. She doesn’t say it, but I feel it in the way she clings to me. She misses me too.
