One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(5)

This is what happens when you’re close with your parents. They expect you to come home after a long hockey season or during college break, and when you don’t, man, oh man, do they lay a heavy guilt trip on you, which I know I’m about to get.

“I’m a grown man, you know.” I bite on my bottom lip. Fuck that sounds stupid. “I needed fresh air?” That came out as a question rather than a statement.

“I think he wants to get frisky, and he can’t do that in our house, William.”

Well, that’s true, but not the reason.

“Mom, that’s not the truth. If I wanted to get frisky with someone at your house, I would just pay for you two to go out to dinner.”

“Hayden Robert!” I laugh. Faintly in the background, I can hear my dad chuckling as well. “Honestly, you men. I’m going to go finish my beef stew. Sweetie, make sure to make time for your parents.”

“Will do, Mom. I love you.”

“Love you, sweetie.”

“I’m going to go too, son. I’m in the middle of carving a chair and my whittling hands are feeling good right now.”

Both my parents are retired and happy as can be. For fun, my mom often makes loads and loads of food and invites the neighbors over for dinner. My dad spends a lot of his time in the garage, making handcrafted rocking chairs. They’re impeccable. He sells them at a local store in Scranton, and they do very well. He loves doing it and it keeps him sharp.

“Sounds good. I’ll let you know when I’m headed your way.”

“Don’t take too long. Your mom will be nagging me every day until you come see us.”

“And we can’t have that, can we?”

“Not unless you want to hear from me every day.”

Looking at the ceiling, I shake my head. “No, I definitely don’t want that. Have a good one, and I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“Love you, Hayden.”

“Love you, Dad.”

I hang up and stare at my phone for a few seconds, letting out a long breath. That was easier than I thought it was going to be. Probably because my dad knew I was already upset, he didn’t need to go over the entire game in detail. And I was grateful for that.

Pulling up my text messages, I open the last one from Racer.

Racer: Seven, my house, bring beer . . . and Little Debbie snacks.

I roll my eyes. Such a fucking sweet tooth. Ever since I’ve known him, Racer has been obsessed with Little Debbie snacks, and it’s only gotten worse since he’s become an adult. Maybe because there is no one to stop him from overdosing. Or maybe because he isn’t really an adult . . .

What time is it now?

Six. Shit, I better get moving, especially if I have to take Racer Little Debbie snacks.

“Everyone quiet down, quiet down.” Racer is standing on a picnic table in his backyard, hushing the little crowd of people surrounding the fire pit. “The prince of the ice is here, the man with the killer right hook, the one and only Hayden Holmes.” He carries out my last name a little longer than necessary while clapping.

“Get the fuck down, you tool,” I say as Racer hops to the ground and pulls me into a bear hug, followed by a giant kiss to my cheek.

“God, I missed you.” He grips my head with his palms, staring intently at me, his eyes glassed over. Someone is already drunk.

Just for the record, Racer is one of those guys who has no problem making an ass of himself, as you can tell.

“Good to see you too, man.” I push at his chest, putting some space between us. Holding up a bag, I hand Racer his “treats.” He practically eye fucks it, and in one giant rip, tears open the bag, the boxes of snacks falling to the ground.

Holding a box above his head as if it’s baby Simba on Pride Rock, he shouts, “Star Crunch!”

Two other guys cheer as a girl I’ve never met rolls her eyes.

“Hey, where is everyone?” I ask, not knowing anyone here.

“What do you mean?” Racer rips open the box and the telltale sign of cellophane being opened slices through the cool night air. “I invited my friends. Did you think I was going to invite anyone else? Pssh, the only person from high school I talk to is you.”

Of course.

Not that I talk to anyone else beside Racer either, but it would have been nice to at least know one more person. I’m a sociable guy, but there are times I’m not in the mood to make get-to-know-you small talk. There are times I just need to be Holmes, the lanky teen who likes hockey.

Gripping my shoulder, stuffing his mouth full, Racer mumbles, “Let me introduce you.” He brings me to the little circle around the fire. “Hayden, this is Tucker and his fiancée, Emma. They like to make out a lot, so look out for that. The big guy over there with the permanent scowl is Aaron, but we all call him Smalls, and there is a pretty brunette floating around here I don’t . . . see . . .”

“She’s in the bathroom,” Emma calls out just as she puts her hand on Tucker’s thigh. They’re snuggled up really close. They’re in love; that’s obvious.

“Thanks. The brunette is in the bathroom,” Racer repeats, taking another bite of his Star Crunch.

Feeling slightly awkward, I hold my hand in a mock wave. “Nice to meet you all.” To Racer I say, “I’m going to put the beer in the fridge. Need anything while I’m there?”