One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(57)

My eyes blink rapidly because my ears must be deceiving me. With my finger to my chin, disbelief consuming me, I say, “I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you say he was traded?”

“Shit, he didn’t tell you?”

“Does this look like someone who is in the know of their boyfriend being traded?” I stare at Logan, at his deep green eyes, trying to make sense of this. Traded. Like . . . to another team? Massaging my forehead with two fingers, I ask, “When you say traded, what exactly do you mean?”

Logan breathes out a heavy sigh and takes me to the nurses station where he sits me down in a chair. This is good, because in case I decide to pass out, the fall is shorter to the ground. No need to be a battered possibly pregnant woman with a boyfriend who has been traded. Battered makes me look pathetic.

Taking my hands in his after removing the clipboard, Logan forces me to look at him. “Addie, he’s been traded to the Quakes.”

“Mm-hmm, I hear ya. The Quakes. Sounds like a fun team.” Swallowing hard, I ask, “By chance, do you happen to know where the Quakes are located?”

Logan pauses, his eyes softening with regret as he says, “Los Angeles.”

I’ve seen hysterical women before, when their eyes bug out of their sockets, their hair looks wild, like they played around with the electrical socket for far too long. They bare their fangs and start hissing at everyone within a three-foot radius. I see hysterical women at least once a week, and I always wonder what it must be like to be in their shoes, to want to chuck a tongue depressor across the room and demand non-latex gloves. But I’ve never been in their position. I’ve never felt so passionate about something that I’ve felt the need to karate chop every throat that crosses my path.

And I’m not saying I’m hysterical, because I’m more in shock than anything, but I can feel the hysterics. I can feel the need to strap on a black belt and take innocent victims under my steely slice of a hand. If a tongue depressor were in reach right now, I would consider stabbing Logan in the ribs with it.

But I’m not there. I’m not at that level. I’m just itching to get there.

“Question.” I prop my chin on my hand, trying to act as casual as possible. “Is this trade final?”

“It’s final, Addie.”

I hold up my finger. “One more question. What is the distance between Binghamton and Los Angeles?”

Pity is written all over Logan’s face when he says, “It’s not drivable.”

Yup.

I start nodding my head, bobbing it up and down, trying to comprehend what Logan is telling me. Hayden, Captain Sexy Cock, is moving to Los Angeles, where palm trees flank the streets and snow is a mythical ice crystal that falls from the sky in far-off lands.

I, Adalyn, General Forgets Her Pills, will be staying in Binghamton, New York, which is located two miles down from Jack Frost’s tundra of an armpit, with a possible demon baby that can bypass sperm-eating acid.

I’m not a mathematician, but I’m pretty sure the two don’t add up.

“I’m sorry, Addie, but maybe it’s for the best. Because what were you two—”

“Adalyn.”

That voice. It vibrates down my spine, sending chills across my skin. Turning in my chair, I find Hayden standing at the desk, his eyes searing Logan in half from under the bill of his baseball cap.

“Can we talk . . . alone?”

“Oh, hey there . . . Hayden, is it?” I don’t know why I said that. His jaw ticks, his eyes focused on Logan’s hands that are holding on to mine. “I mean, of course I know it’s you.” I laugh awkwardly. “Didn’t recognize you for a second. Hats can be deceiving. It’s why so many celebrities wear them. What better way to hide yourself than under the brim of a hat. Oh, is that why you’re wearing one now?” I zip my lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone it’s you.” Clearing my throat, I say to Logan, “This is my friend, Franklin. He’s from Switzerland and knows nothing about hockey.”

“Adalyn,” Hayden says with more force in his voice. “I need to talk to you.”

I pull on my ear. “I hear ya, but I have some nurse duties to attend to.” I stand and look around, looking for anything to show I’m doing my job. Logan hands me the first thing he sees, a pee cup. I hold it up to Hayden. “Urine isn’t going to collect itself.”

Walking toward a room on the corner, Mr. Glasco’s room, Hayden jogs up to me and pulls on my arm, halting me in place.

“Adalyn, we need to talk.”

“Is there a problem here?” Logan asks, eyeing Hayden’s grip on my arm.

Furious, Hayden, talks from between his teeth. “This is none of your concern.”

“It is because Adalyn is my friend.”

“And she’s my fucking girlfriend,” Hayden spits back.

Shaking his head, Logan mutters under his breath, “Not for long,” and walks away.

“Hey, what the fuck is your problem?” Hayden asks, pushing Logan to the side.

Oh God. Okay, pushing in hospitals should not be happening. Before Logan can retaliate, I step between the two men, putting hands on both of their chests. “Logan, go check on room sixteen’s vitals.” When he doesn’t move, I look him in the eyes, pleading. “Go, please.”