One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(79)

From the back of my pocket, I pull out my phone and send a text to Chris Thompkins, the goalie on our team who’s been working with me lately after practice. I have an idea, but I just need to know if he can help me.

Chapter Twenty-One

ADALYN

I am going to kill her.

Emma is dead to me. Absolutely dead to me.

Technically I don’t know if it’s Emma who told him, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure it is. Racer is too scared to be castrated, and Logan would probably prefer Hayden to never know at this point. So that leaves Emma.

Ugh.

I bury my head in my pillow. Breathe, Adalyn, breathe. This isn’t good for the baby, none of this stress or anxiety is good for the baby and yet, I can’t seem to find a happy place.

Hayden deserves to know about his baby, I understand that, but I never wanted him to find out like this. He was blindsided, although he would have been blindsided no matter what. But with Logan here, protecting me . . . God, no wonder Hayden is so angry.

I have no idea if he’s still in my house. I didn’t hear the front door open and close, but then again, I’ve been crying into my pillow for the last half hour; I might have blocked out any other sounds in the house.

Rolling to my other side, facing the door, I wish I had X-ray vision so I could see if he was still here or not. Do I want him to be here still? Not really. It was easier when he wasn’t here, because I could go on thinking there really was no daddy to my baby. But now, it’s real. This whole clusterfuck is real.

Sighing, I snuggle in closer to my pillow, trying to get my rest when the door to my bedroom cracks open, startling me.

“Hey,” Hayden says, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. The only light in the room is from the moon outside, casting just enough brightness in the room to make out each other’s features.

Sniffling, I answer, “Hey, I thought maybe you might have left.”

Shaking his head, he comes to my bed and sits next to me, his hand going to my back where he lightly strokes it.

Briefly, I shut my eyes, indulging in his touch again, in his large hand soothing me.

“I needed a second to understand everything.” His voice is more calm, more Hayden. “This is life-changing, Adalyn, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all.”

“I can understand that.”

Moving his hand up and down my back, he asks, “Who knows?”

“Logan, obviously.” Hayden’s face hardens, but I continue before we can dive deep into the Logan conversation. “Emma and Tucker . . . Racer.”

“Shit,” Hayden mutters. “What did he say?”

“That he was going to kill you, but then I told him if he came after you, I would castrate him.”

Chuckling, Hayden says, “I appreciate that.”

“It was more for Racer’s protection, because even though he’s a strong guy, I don’t think he could take you.”

“Damn right.” Hayden winks and the weight that’s been pressing against my chest ever since I found out I was pregnant eases. “What about your family?”

I shake my head. “Haven’t told them yet. Haven’t had the courage to do so.”

“Your brothers are going to kill me, aren’t they?”

I sugarcoat my answer. “Stay in California and I think you’ll be okay.” I chuckle and let out a little sigh. “I’m sorry, Hayden, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Adalyn”—he presses his palm against my cheek—“neither of us planned for this to happen, but it did and now we need to figure it out.”

“I’ll share custody, if that’s what you want. I’m just not sure how. I guess during the summer, the baby can be with you and during your hockey season I can—”

He presses his fingers against my lips, halting the thoughts coming off the top of my head I seem to be speaking out loud. The last thing I want to do is figure out custody so early on in the pregnancy, but I feel insane, like I need some sort of way to figure this all out.

Softly, looking me square in the eyes, he says, “Move to California.”

Did I hear him correctly?

Move?

I’m not one to guffaw, but this is the perfect time for it. I let it rip, a loud, obnoxious guffaw.

“I’m serious, Adalyn.”

Sitting up, using my pillow as a barrier against my headboard and putting a little space between us, I say, “Come on, you’re joking.”

“I’m dead fucking serious.”

Okay, maybe he was hit in the head with a puck tonight. I didn’t watch his game, but I’m now tempted to go back and search the highlights. Surely a puck to the head would be on there.

Patting his forearm, I say, “You’ve had a big night, finding out you’re going to be a dad and all, not to mention the exhaustion you must feel from your game and traveling. Don’t worry, I won’t hold your crazy against you.”

“Adalyn,” his voice now stern, “I’m perfectly fine. I thought about this, and it would be perfect.”

“Perfect?” I raise my brow at him. “Perfect for who?” I point at him. “For you? Because it seems like that’s the only person it would benefit. I, on the other hand, would be moving to a foreign state with no job, no place to live, no friends, just to be close to the man who impregnated me? Yeah, I don’t foresee that happening.”