29. Daire
29
DAIRE
“Hendricks, what the fuck are you doing here with a baby?”
Shoulders tensing, I turn around to face Coach. Dammit. I was hoping he wouldn’t notice me, but I should’ve known better.
The man can sniff this kind of stuff out.
Winter break is over, and a new semester has begun, but Rosie and I have had no luck finding a reputable daycare with openings for Sammy. After we exhausted all our options, we started searching for a nanny, but it’ll take time to interview applicants and find the right one.
“A baby?”
“Yeah, the one you’re carrying.” He wags a finger at me. “You’re supposed to be practicing, not babysitting.”
The sounds of the guys changing into their gear in the locker room ahead echo down the hallway.
So close but so far away.
“I’m not babysitting,” I correct, and Sammy giggles, making a noise I think might be his form of hi. “This is Sammy. My son.”
Coach rubs the back of his head, sighing like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I was hoping those rumors weren’t true.” He straightens and hits me with a serious look. “Now, what are you planning to do with the little guy?”
“I had to bring him with me. Rosie’s in class, and we haven’t found a daycare, and I don’t have?—”
Coach holds up a hand. “That’s a lot of ands, kid. Give him here. I’ll watch him while you practice.”
On instinct, I pull the car seat in closer, my chest tightening. “You… you’re going to watch him?”
Coach rolls his eyes. “I had babies once too, you know. I can handle the little guy.”
It’s not that I don’t trust him. It’s just that the idea of handing him over to someone else terrifies me.
If the idea of trusting Coach to care for him scares me, then how the fuck did I think I could handle leaving him at a daycare?
It’s obvious now that I wouldn’t have been able to drive away.
“All right,” I agree reluctantly. I really have no other choice.
I hold Sammy’s car seat out to Coach and then slide the diaper bag off my shoulder and pass that over too. When Coach gives the baby a genuine smile, my stomach eases a bit.
“Hurry up and get ready for practice. If you’re late?—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Extra drills.”
“You do listen when I talk? I’m impressed, Hendricks.” He claps me on the shoulder, then gives me a little push toward the locker room.
I go, but not without turning around to get one last look at Sammy, who waves at me.
Fuck, he’s cute.
Never in a million fucking years did I expect to find Coach with my son strapped to his chest. Clearly, he found the baby wrap in the diaper bag. It was a hysterical distraction for me and my teammates.
Off the ice, I hit the showers to wash away the sweat, rushing through my routine so I can get back to Sammy quickly. I already miss the little guy.
The guys apparently have the same idea. As fast as I finish up, they’re faster, and I come out of the locker room to find half my team playing with Sammy in the room we watch game tapes in from time to time.
My heart pangs as I watch the interaction. Fuck. I never expected my team to embrace my son as one of their own.
“Our new mascot is pretty cute, don’t you think?” Cree holds Sammy out to me.
I carefully take him and pull him close, dropping a kiss to his head. “He got half his DNA from me. Obviously, he’s going to be cute.”
Sammy snuggles his little face into my neck. That little move makes my chest expand and my heart explode.
It’s crazy to say, but I didn’t know love, not true love, until he came along.
“Are you going to bring him to practice tomorrow?” Justin, our team captain, asks.
I shrug, scanning the room for his carrier. “Depends on whether I’ve found someone to watch him by then.”
When I’ve located the seat, I crouch in front of it and strap him in.
“If you need to bring him to drylands, we can take turns watching him,” Justin volunteers.
My throat tightens at the offer, and the backs of my eyes prick with emotion.
I didn’t give my teammates enough credit, that’s for fucking sure.
Clearing my throat, I give a gruff “thanks” in response. “I’ve gotta get going. Thanks for looking after him.” I scoop up the diaper bag and position it over my shoulder.
The guys disperse, but Cree lingers. “Can we get coffee or something before you head home? I feel like…” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, I’ve been a shitty friend this year.”
I grit my teeth and cover Sammy’s ears. “Don’t cuss in front of my kid.”
He winces. “My bad. Sorry.”
“We’ve both been bad friends this year,” I admit. “We’ve had a lot going on.”
He exhales, the breath heavy with tension. “It’s been some kind of senior year, that’s for sure.”
“Coffee sounds good.”
A light flurry of snow is falling outside, so I set the car seat down and dig a knitted hat out of the diaper bag.
Cree chuckles beside me as I adjust the hat on Sammy’s head. “Look at you. You’re a natural.”
My heart pangs at the sentiment, but I breathe through the ache as I drape a blanket over the car seat. “Trust me, I’m not. But I’m all he has.”
Cree turns to face me head-on and frowns. “What do you mean?”
Fuck.
I never filled my friends in on what happened to Danielle.
Picking up the carrier, I nod at the door, and we head out into the cold. “Danielle and her husband were in a nasty car accident.”
“What?” He freezes, his eyes bulging.
“Yep.” I don’t stop, and Cree rushes to catch up. “They didn’t make it, but Sammy wasn’t injured, thank fu—thankfully.” My stomach roils thinking about how easily I could’ve lost my son before I ever really had him. “I have temporary guardianship. With any luck, it won’t take too long to make it permanent. I hope like hell none of her family gives me any trouble.”
“F—”
I cut him off with a glare.
“Frick. That’s crazy.”
“You’re telling me. It happened Christmas Eve night.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” He doesn’t sound angry, just surprised.
“I’ve had a lot going on. It wasn’t on purpose, I promise you.”
“Wow.” He rubs his jaw. “I don’t really know what to say.”
I shrug. “We’re just taking things a day at a time.”
As we approach the coffee shop, the fatigue that’s plagued me for days creeps in. The caffeine is going to be much appreciated. If I thought life was exhausting before—between classes, practice, gym time, and games—it has nothing on parenthood.
Especially parenting an infant while still in college. This isn’t for the faint of heart.
The line for coffee isn’t too long, but Cree shoos me toward a table with Sammy while he gets our order.
Sammy babbles, blowing spit bubbles, as happy as ever.
“Look at you.” I pat his belly overtop the blanket. “You’re learning something new every day. Can you say Dada? Da-da.”
He blows more bubbles in reply.
“Dada.” I point at myself. “I’m Dada.”
He gives me a gummy smile that hits me straight in the solar plexus.
Rocking him gently in the car seat, I duck down and tickle his chin. “We’ll keep working on it, all right?”
My phone vibrates from my coat pocket with an incoming text, and my heart lifts, knowing it’s likely Rosie.
Rosie: I’m exhausted. Do you mind if I pick up takeout for dinner?
Me: Same. Takeout sounds great.
Rosie: What are you in the mood for?
Me: Whatever.
Rosie: Ugh. Give me more information than that.
I grin at my phone screen.
Me: I’m not falling into that trap. You probably already know what you really want.
Rosie: Five Guys?
Me: I’m not opposed to sharing, but Five Guys seems like a lot.
Rosie: DAIRE
Rosie: No food for you.
Me: I take it back. Burgers sound great.
Rosie: Too late. Sorry.
I chuckle, amused by her antics. God, she’s cute.
It feels like it’s been forever since I touched her, and I’m craving so much more. I want to feel her bare body beneath mine. On top of me. All around me.
“Black coffee with a sprinkle of sugar. Seriously, what the fuck does a sprinkle of sugar mean?”
I take the offered coffee from Cree. “Language, my friend. We have impressionable ears listening now. Isn’t that right, Sammy?” I say, smiling down at my son. “Say Dada.”
Cree slides into the chair across from me and sets his cup on the table. “I’m going to teach him to say Cree first just to spite you. Or maybe something silly like scooter.”
“Yeah,” I say, biting back a smirk, “because if Dada’s too complicated, then surely he can say scooter.”
Cree tips his coffee cup back, and instantly, his eyes go wide and he sputters. “Sh—shoot, that’s hot.”
Amusement curls my lips. “Did you think it would be cold?”
He tosses a napkin at my head, but I dodge it easily, and it lands on the floor beside me.
Sammy giggles, the sound enough to have me grinning in a way I don’t think I ever did before him.
“You think that’s funny?” I ask the baby, gently poking his belly. “Hmm? You thought it was funny that Uncle Cree threw something at Daddy.”
“Whoa.” Cree nearly chokes—I’m guessing on his saliva because he’s shoved his coffee away from him like it’s the coffee’s fault that he’s an idiot. “That’s so weird.”
“What is? Talking to a baby?”
“No. You calling me Uncle Cree and yourself Daddy.”
I laugh. “I am Daddy.”
He turns his head and gags. “I don’t want to hear about your weird kink things in public.”
“God, you’re so easy to rile. For the record, I’m not into being called Daddy in the bedroom.”
Though I have recently developed a kink for making my wife come. Watching her face flush and the way her body shakes all over. I’m going to lose my shit when I finally get to sink my cock inside her and watch her come on my dick.
Cree pops the lid off his cup, and steam billows in front of his face. “No wonder I burned my tongue,” he mutters.
Sammy gives another giggle, pulling my attention back to him. I rock him gently in his carrier. It’s wild how I don’t want to take my eyes off him—not because I’m scared something will happen to him if I look away, but because I’m so captivated by him. By his big blue eyes and his gummy smile. Everything he does is cute, from the way he scrunches his nose when he sneezes to the curl of his tongue when he yawns.
I’ve only ever heard women talk about baby fever, but I think I’m experiencing it right now.
I could have a million more of these.
Well, if I didn’t have to deal with waking up in the night. That part isn’t fun. But everything else? I’m surprisingly okay with it. Even the diaper changes don’t bother me.
Cree and I catch up, but it isn’t long before Sammy is yawning and rubbing at his eyes, signaling that it’s time to get home so I can get him fed, then bathed and ready for bed.
For such a small human, he’s incredibly time-consuming.
When I pull into the driveway, Rosie’s Mercedes is already there.
I unbuckle Sammy and scoop him into my arms. Then snag my backpack and the diaper bag with my free arm. I’m halfway up the walk when Rosie opens the front door and steps back to let me in.
“Thanks.” I give her a grateful smile, dropping the bags to the floor in the foyer.
She shuts the door quietly, turns the lock with a snick, and snatches the baby from me, burying her face in his neck.
“I missed you.” She smacks a loud kiss on his cheek. “Were you good for your daddy?”
My stomach flops around like a fish out of water at the sight in front of me.
Then I’m hit with a vision of Sammy in a few years, with more kids running around. Ones with dark hair and Rosie’s attitude, and fuck, I want it.
But does she want it too?
Does she want me?
I rub at my sternum, easing the ache there. I’ve been too scared to talk to her about the future or my growing feelings. I’m too damn terrified of the possibility of her not wanting the same.
But we let a miscommunication tear us apart once, and it took years to find our way back to one another. There’s no way I’ll let that happen again, so that means I have to be honest about my feelings.
And soon.
“Is he hungry?” she asks, already heading for the kitchen.
I follow behind, taking a moment to appreciate how well her jeans hug her ass.
“He’s probably getting there.”
Sammy’s just starting to eat solids, but he’s not completely sold on them yet. I wouldn’t be either if I had to eat mushed up peas and sweet potatoes. He devours the fruity ones, though, especially bananas.
Rosie straps him into the highchair. The second highchair we’ve purchased since bringing him home on Christmas day. He hated the first one, flailed and kicked and cried every time we put him in it, and I’m learning that I’ll do just about anything to make sure my little guy is happy.
“I just got home, so burgers and fries are still in the bag.” She gestures to the greasy takeout bag on the counter. “Can you plate everything up?”
“No problem.”
She wheels the highchair over to the table, and Sammy chills there while she gathers the half-eaten jars of baby food from the fridge.
I grab two plates from the cabinet, and as I open the brown bag, the smell of cheese and salty fries hits me. The temptation to grab a fry and pop it into my mouth is impossible to resist.
I groan as the flavor explodes on my tongue. Delicious.
Beside me, Rosie searches through the drawer for the baby spoons.
“Dishwasher,” I say. “I ran them through this morning.”
“You’re a saint.” She opens up the dishwasher and plucks one out.
Sammy, suddenly impatient, lets out a wail and bangs his chubby fists against the tray.
Hands full, Rosie shuffles over to the table. I can’t help but watch her, amazed by how natural this feels. As she’s taking lids off jars, I realize she’s forgotten the bib. They’re one of several necessities we failed to purchase before Sammy came to live with us, but it only took a matter of days to discover just how much we needed them.
Swiping one from the drawer, I take it over and fit it around Sammy’s neck.
“Oh, thank you.” Rosie peers up at me, her eyes bright. “I forgot.”
“I got you. We’re a team.” As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, I kiss the top of her head.
The scent of her shampoo sends a comforting warmth through me. I’m a fucking goner.
In response, she gives me a confused smile. I don’t blame her. I never knew I had it in me to be this affectionate. But here I am, and I wouldn’t change it.
After plating up our dinner, I set them both on the table and join my two favorite people.
“We’ve established that you missed Sammy, but what about me?”
Rosie looks me up and down slyly. “What about you is it that you think is so miss-able?”
With a lighthearted scoff, I put a hand over my heart and rear back. “A wound straight to the heart.”
She uses the spoon to clean sweet potato puree off Sammy’s face. “You’re the one that asked.”
“So you didn’t miss me at all? Not even a little bit?”
She spares me a glance, lips twitching with a desire to smile. “Maybe a smidge. Like the size of my pinky nail. If that.”
“Well, baby,” I lower my voice as I lean into her, brushing my lips over her cheek, “I missed you a whole lot.”
Her breath stutters, and I sit back with a smirk, more than a little satisfied.
Rosie can pretend all she wants that she’s not affected by me, but it’s all for show.
She wants me as badly as I want her.