Page 80 of Shootout Daddies
I glance at Ivy. She smiles faintly, embarrassed.
“That was all Rhett,” she says. “He manned the grill.”
Landon turns his gaze to me, steady. “Well done.”
I give a short nod, take a sip of my drink. The weight of his attention sits heavy, but it’s not hostile. Just measuring.
For a while, the conversation stays light—Hunter teasing about Chloe trying to chew on his sunglasses earlier, Ivy laughing as she reaches for the salad, Landon asking a few careful questions about practice schedules.
The kind of talk that skims the surface.
Then Hunter leans back in his chair, resting his forearm against the table. His voice cuts through the calm. “So… the baby.”
My pulse tightens. Ivy freezes with her fork halfway to her mouth.
Landon’s brow furrows. “Chloe,” he says, like he’s checking the name.
Hunter nods. “Yeah. Chloe.”
Landon sets his fork down slowly, glances between the three of us. I explain how she was dropped off at my doorstep and how Coach is insistent that we determine the paternity.
“She’s not…?” Landon stops, clears his throat. “I assumed she was Ivy’s.”
Ivy shakes her head.
The silence sharpens. Landon’s eyes darken as the realization sets in. He leans forward slightly, his voice calm but firm.
“Then the first step is obvious. You’ll need to establish paternity.”
The word hangs there like smoke. Hunter blinks, shifting uneasily. I press my palms flat against my thighs.
Ivy doesn’t flinch. Her chin lifts.
“What we need,” she says evenly, “is a nondisclosure drafted. One that binds the physician performing the test. Ironclad. Personally liable if there’s even a whisper of information leaking.”
Landon’s gaze cuts to her. I can feel the shift in the room, like two lawyers scenting the start of a fight.
“That’s unnecessary,” he says. “Confidentiality is implied in medical ethics.”
“Implied isn’t enough,” Ivy fires back, her voice precise. “Medical ethics don’t stop someone from running to the tabloids if the money’s right. And you know as well as I do that personal liability clauses have teeth.”
Hunter leans back slowly, eyes darting between them. I can see his surprise. He’s never seen this side of her—sharp, legal, relentless. Neither have I.
Landon clasps his hands together, elbows on the table. “If you push liability that far, most physicians will refuse to take the case.”
“Then we find one who won’t,” Ivy counters smoothly. “This isn’t negotiable. Not when careers are on the line. There’s already talk of trades next season. You know how paranoid the higher-ups are about another so-called scandal. We can’t risk management hearing about this before we’re ready.”
The air vibrates between them. It’s not anger—it’s force meeting force, neither willing to yield.
Finally, Landon exhales slowly, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “You want discretion. Fine. I can draft something that will hold. But you’re playing a dangerous game, tying liability this tightly.”
Ivy doesn’t back down. “Better dangerous on paper than disastrous in the press.”
Hunter lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Remind me never to argue with you.”
Ivy shoots him a quick look, cheeks pink, but she doesn’t lose her composure.
Landon clears his throat, turning back to the two of us. “You’ll both need to be tested. Once paternity is determined, I’d strongly advise pursuing custody. Given what you’ve told me about Chloe’s mother, volatility could become grounds for awarding primary care to the father.”
