Page 24 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
I have to face this. I have to know the truth.
And if David turns out to be the man I think he might be, if he’s one of the three who changed my life that night, then he’s got some consequences to face too.
“So…” I start, my hand fumbling for the door handle even after I’ve already shut it.
My heart is hammering so loud I’m convinced he can hear it. But he’s still hunched over a battered yellow notepad, scribbling something down, utterly oblivious to my anxious movements.I just stand there, fidgeting, shifting my weight between my feet like some kind of criminal waiting for judgment, until he finally looks up again.
“Come in. Sit wherever,” he says, waving a hand toward the rows of maroon leather chairs, enough for the entire team. His voice is casual enough, but there’s a flicker of curiosity sharpening his gaze. Maybe even suspicion.
Maybe because I’ve had more reasons to hover nearby. He’s noticed, I can see it. He’s studying me, like he’s trying to piece something together. His pen taps once against the notepad, thoughtful.
“You’ve been… around a lot lately,” he says finally, his tone careful. “More questions for me than the other guys? If this were any other setting, I’d think you had ulterior motives,” he adds, half teasing, half testing.
I choke on a breath before forcing out a weak laugh. “Well, youarethe captain,” I say, shooting for breezy but landing somewhere closer to mortified. “It makes sense for the team leader, right?”
His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t quite smile.
The tension stretches between us, taut and brittle. I cross the room and sink into a chair, feeling his eyes track me the whole way. The air feels too thick in here. The walls too close.
Or maybe it’s just me.
“So.” He leans back, resting one arm lazily along the back of the seat, the other still holding that damn pen. “What’s this about, really?”
Oh, nothing major. Just maybe about to drop the biggest bomb on your life. I scrape together whatever remains of my courage.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I had a chance to think them through.
David tilts his head, his smirk turning into a frown. “Come again?”
“The first time we met,” I say again, slower this time, my voice cracking slightly.
His brown eyes narrow, intensely searching. He’s dissecting the cracks in my voice, seeing the nerves bleed through, reading between every unspoken line.
“I’m guessing you don’t mean your first day here,” he says.
“No,” I breathe out. “What if it was…beforethat?”
The crease between his brows deepens. “You’re gonna have to help me out here.”
I tug down the hem of my skirt like it needed fixing—knowing damn well it didn’t—and press my palms flat against my knees to stop them from visibly shaking.
“Were you at the masquerade ball after the Avs won the Cup three years ago?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
David stiffens. Not just a blink or a double-take. He goes completely, unnaturally still. Like someone hit pause on time itself.
“Yes…” he says, dragging the word out like it hurts to admit it. He drops the pen and rubs the back of his neck, a gesture of pure discomfort. “Why?”
The air grows so thick it feels like I’m breathing through water. I can see something brewing behind his eyes, too. Maybe the slow, dawning realization that whatever he’s about to hear isn’t good.
And he’s right. Because things are about to get very real.
Suddenly, he drags the hand resting at the back of his neck across his forehead, rubbing hard lines from temple to temple before dropping it. Then he closes his eyes, like he’s bracing for impact.
“Um. Are you all right?”
He winces. “It’s nothing.”
“Judging by your facial expression, I don’t believe you. Is this the hockey player bro code or something?”
