Page 81 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
Eventually, Shane and I crash at David’s place. Somehow, it’s always at David’s. I try not to think about how Leighton and Luna could’ve been here with us tonight. We’ve been bending over backward to prove we’re in this for the long haul, but right now, it feels like she shut the door on all of it.
With nothing but practice and one game on the calendar for the next week, there’s not much to keep my mind off it. She’s been keeping her distance, probably holed up with her family, and I’m left spinning my wheels.
Practice is a shitshow. My head’s not in it, and Shane’s is even worse. David tries to hold the line, but I can see it on him, too. We’re all hanging by a thread. Nobody wants to push. But this silence is brutal.
Coach Atticus blows the final whistle and stalks over, arms crossed. “You three wanna tell me what the hell that was?”
Penny gives us a softer look, but her voice is still sharp. “That’s not you out there. You’re off, and if something’s going on, now’s the time to lock it down, not fall apart.”
We nod like we hear them, like we’ll get it together. But none of us says a word.
“You think she’s really done with us?” I mutter as we unlace our skates.
“I don’t know,” Shane says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I wouldn’t blame her.”
David exhales hard. “I just want to know she’s okay. Both of them.”
And just like that, we fall quiet again, each of us lost in the same ache.
Shane sent a few texts over the next week, just simple check-ins.How’s Lulu? Need anything? We miss you both.And all he got back was a short:We’re good. Talk soon.That was it. No warmth, no follow-up. Just enough to make the pain worse.
My phone dings with a group text—me, Shane, and David—and I damn near spill my whiskey lunging for it.
Leighton:Hey. Thanks for giving me some space to work things through. We’re getting pizza tonight at DC’s Pizzeria. My dad and Wyatt will be there. I’d love to see you… And Lu-Lu misses you. And I’ll explain everything.
She didn’t have to ask us twice, that’s for sure.
We pile into David’s SUV, and even though I’m usually the laidback one, my nerves are strung tight, humming like a tautbowstring. Shane’s braced and coiled like a boxer in his corner, and David’s jaw is clenched so hard I swear I can hear his teeth grind. I feel like some clueless rookie about to skate into the biggest game of his life.
When we step inside, it’s not as busy as I expected it to be. A few families scattered around, the TV blaring a game. Normally, it’s a circus on a Saturday night, but tonight feels… different.
It smells like melted cheese, warm dough, and that punch of garlic that clings to your clothes long after you leave. There’s a low chatter, clinking glasses, a couple of screaming kids, but somehow, it feels right. Neutral. Familiar. The kind of place where you can have hard conversations and still split a pepperoni pie after.
Leighton’s already tucked into a corner booth, Luna perched on her hip. Her dad’s next to her, dumping crushed red pepper onto a slice of sausage pizza. Wyatt’s across from them, arms crossed, a storm cloud brewing on his face.
But Luna? The second she sees us, her whole face lights up like it’s the Fourth of July.
“Dada… Dada!” she squeals, reaching for Shane.
Wyatt shifts in his seat, eyebrows lifting with a look that’s more wary than annoyed, like he wants to stay mad, but Luna’s joy is wearing him down.
Shane is at her side in a blink, scooping her up and spinning her in the air. She giggles, kicking her little feet like crazy. “I’vemissed you, Lu-Lu,” he says, and she plants a big, sloppy kiss right on his cheek.
God, that tiny voice guts me every time. Cute as a damn button.
“Peeza!” she shrieks, eyes wide as saucers, pointing at it with one hand while clutching a cheese stick in the other. She leans back toward Leighton and her grandpa for another bite, even though she’s got a death grip on that cheese stick like her life depends on it.
David chuckles. Shane exhales hard, like he’s been holding his breath since the second we walked in. I lift a hand in a small wave.
Leighton’s smile is soft but genuine. “Hey, guys. Glad you made it.”
We slide into the booth—Shane next to me, Leighton across from us, David settling in beside Wyatt. Luna’s still babbling amile a minute while her grandpa tries wiping her sticky fingers.
Dinner starts off tense. Forks scraping plates. Stiff small talk about the season, the weather. No one dares bring up the fight, or the fact that we haven’t seen Leighton in a week. Wyatt doesn’t even glance our way for half the meal.
Then, finally, Leighton breaks the silence. Her voice is steady, like she’s been rehearsing.
“We’ve had time to talk. My dad. Wyatt.” She picks at her pizza crust, then lifts her gaze, meeting each of our eyes, steady, clear. “Things are… moving forward. We’re not all on the same page yet, but there’s an understanding now, and that’s a start. A whole lot better than where we were the last time you saw us.”
