16. Hunter
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Hunter
Chloe squirms against my chest, her little fists thumping lightly at my shoulder. Her face is red and blotchy from crying, and I can feel the heat of it against my neck. I sway her gently, murmuring soft nonsense into her ear.
“Shh, baby girl. Daddy’s got you. We’re all good now, huh? You’re safe. You’re okay.”
She hiccups once, then lets out a tiny whimper, the sound breaking into something closer to a whine. I press my lips to the crown of her head. Her hair is so fine it tickles my mouth, soft as spun silk.
“Want a cracker?” I whisper, pulling one from the little bag Ivy shoved into my hand before we left the bleachers. I wave it in front of Chloe’s face.
She blinks at it, then grabs with clumsy fingers, shoving it immediately into her mouth.
Crumbs scatter down my jersey, but I don’t care. Her chewing slows her fussing, her cries dissolving into quiet little hums as she leans into me.
I glance over at Rhett. He’s got one hand at the small of Ivy’s back as we walk down the concourse. She’s got Chloe’s diaper bag slung over one shoulder and that look on her face—half worried, half resigned.
“Are you sure Coach wasn’t mad?” she asks, her voice low. She keeps her eyes on Chloe as if she’s afraid the baby will start wailing again if she looks away.
Rhett squeezes her side, answering before I can. “We explained it. You heard the way the guys reacted.”
I nod, shifting Chloe higher on my hip. “Yeah. Nobody gave us a hard time. If anything, they were curious.”
Curious might be an understatement.
The moment Chloe’s cry echoed across the rink, everything stopped. I swear, every head turned toward the bleachers like the puck had frozen mid-play.
The sound didn’t belong out there, not in the middle of drills. A baby’s cry is sharp, it slices right through.
And when they saw us heading toward her, grabbing gear to get off the ice, the looks started. A couple of the guys shouted up at us, half-joking but half not.
“Since when do you bring your kid to practice?”
“Hunter, man, are you even allowed to hold a stick with a baby in your arms?”
Someone else yelled, “She’s got better lungs than you, Rhett.” That one got a laugh.
Coach Leo, though, wasn’t laughing. He blew the whistle so hard I thought my eardrums would burst. When we got to the boards, he leaned in, voice sharp.
“What’s going on?”
Rhett didn’t flinch. “Family situation. We need to step out.”
The word “family” hung there. I saw some of the guys exchanging looks, the kind that said they were filing that away for later locker room talk.
Coach’s eyes flicked up to the bleachers. Ivy stood there, Chloe clinging to her hip, trying to calm her down.
Something in his expression softened, and he gave a short nod. “Fine. But don’t make a habit of it. Go.”
So we went.
Now, walking through the quiet corridor, I feel Ivy’s gaze on me again. She’s biting her lip like she wants to ask something but isn’t sure how.
Finally, she says, “When you told Coach about the situation with Chloe… did you mention me?”
I glance at her. She’s tense, her shoulders pulled tight.
“We told him you were here because we invited you,” Rhett says. “We were going to take you out after practice anyway. To eat. Relax. You know.”
I nod, adding, “Yeah, Coach didn’t push. He saw the baby. He understood.”
Her shoulders drop just slightly, like that reassurance helps.
She adjusts the strap of the diaper bag and exhales. “Okay. Good.” A pause, then, “I should probably tell you. Landon was there.”
The name hits me like a puck to the ribs. I look at her sharply. “You saw him?”
She nods. “In the stands. Well… more like across the way. He saw me, too.”
Rhett slows his steps. “I didn’t know he would be there.”
“I don’t think anyone did,” she says. “He just looked surprised. Confused, maybe. I don’t know.”
I can tell by the flicker in her eyes that she’s worried about more than just a passing glance. She knows as well as we do that Landon isn’t the type to forget what he sees.
Rhett rubs at his jaw. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”
I raise a brow. “How do you figure?”
“Now that the team knows about Chloe, and Coach knows, maybe it’s time we start figuring out who else we can trust. Landon’s been circling us anyway, whether we like it or not. If we invite him over, see how he reacts, maybe we can gauge whether telling him the full truth is even possible.”
Ivy stops in her tracks. “Invite him over? For dinner?”
Rhett shrugs, casual in a way I know is mostly an act. “Yeah. Why not? It’s better than letting him piece things together on his own. You know he will. He’s not blind.”
I shift Chloe again. She’s drooling cracker mush onto my shoulder, but I hardly notice. My stomach twists with the idea.
“You think we can trust him?” I ask.
Rhett doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flick to Ivy. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, clearly torn.
“It’s not about trust, not yet,” she says. “It’s about control. You’d rather choose to let him in than wait for the moment he decides to knock on your door and start asking questions.”
That lands hard, mostly because she’s right.
I glance down at Chloe, who has finally calmed completely. She leans into me, her little face tucked against my chest.
The steady weight of her is grounding, but it also makes me realize just how much we have to lose if this goes wrong.
“Dinner, then,” Rhett says. His mind clearly made up. “We’ll invite him. See what happens.”
Ivy’s eyes dart between us. “Are you sure? Because if this backfires?—”
“We’ll handle it,” Rhett cuts in. He reaches for her hand, squeezing it gently. “We always do.”
I can see the protest on her face, but then Chloe lets out a small coo, babbling in that half-formed language that only babies seem to understand. She pats at my chest, eyes wide, then blurts out a string of syllables that sound suspiciously like “da-da.”
I freeze, staring down at her.
Ivy smiles, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a little. “She likes you,” she says softly.
That one simple line makes my throat tight.
I kiss the top of Chloe’s head, whispering, “I like you too, Peanut.”
Her tiny giggle bubbles up, and for a moment the world feels less complicated.
But it is complicated. More than Ivy knows, more than even Rhett wants to admit. Because inviting Landon into this—into us—could open a door we may not be ready to walk through.
He could tell his bosses about it, and I’m not sure how well that’s going to go. We all had a strong talking-to about avoiding scandal this year.
Still, as we push through the exit doors into the parking lot, the decision feels already made. I just hope we’re not making a big mistake by trusting the lawyer with information that could basically have us in trouble with the higher-ups before the season even begins.
The sun’s low, painting the skyline orange, and I feel the weight of the day dragging at my shoulders.
Shopping sounded like a decent idea in the morning, but hours of it, combined with hauling bags, weaving through crowds, and keeping Chloe entertained, is enough to sap every ounce of energy out of me.
Even Rhett looks worn, his jaw tight as he drops the last bag by the entryway. Ivy sighs in relief the second she kicks off her shoes.
It’s close to six by the time I carry Chloe inside. She’s rubbing at her eyes, yawning against my shoulder. Rhett stretches, rolling his shoulders before tossing out an idea.
“We should watch some tape. Last season’s games. Catch up on form.”
I grunt an agreement, though my head isn’t exactly in hockey mode. Still, tape is tape. And Chloe is more than ready for bed.
Ivy crouches on the floor to unpack formula and snacks, her movements careful as she lines things up on the counter like she’s already building a rhythm here.
I take Chloe to the bathroom. My hands don’t shake anymore when I undress her. I’ve gotten good at this—filling the tub with just the right amount of warm water, holding her while she splashes.
She kicks happily, her squeals bouncing off the tile, tiny fists smacking the surface until the water froths around us.
“Easy, baby girl,” I murmur, laughing softly when she splashes me straight in the chest.
She doesn’t care. She just giggles, soap bubbles clinging to her hair like a crooked crown. My chest tightens at the sight of her.
Somehow, each time I do this, it feels less like a task.
I rinse her off, bundle her into a towel, and carry her to her crib. Ivy’s already set up the monitor.
I tuck Chloe in, stroking her soft cheek with my knuckle. Her eyelids are heavy, her little mouth slack with exhaustion.
“Goodnight, Peanut,” I whisper, brushing a final kiss to her temple before switching on the nightlight.
She drifts off quickly.
When I step back into the living room, Rhett’s sprawled on the couch with Ivy curled up against him, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. She looks like she belongs there, the sight so natural it makes me pause at the threshold.
They both look up at me at the same time. “Is she down?” they ask in unison.
I nod, heading over to drop onto the other side of Ivy. She shifts automatically, and I lift her legs up onto my thigh. She doesn’t fight it, but I catch the faint flush spreading up her neck.
Rhett notices too. His lips twitch. “What’s that look for?”
Her face reddens further. “Nothing.”
I grin, leaning closer. “You’ve been quiet ever since we got home. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Her lips part, but then she shakes her head quickly. “It’s just—seeing you out there earlier. On the ice. You both looked…” She trails off, fumbling for words.
Rhett smirks. “Hot?”
Her eyes dart between us. She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to.
I chuckle low. “You’ve got a little crush on us, huh?”
That earns me a glare, but her blush deepens, and it’s enough to confirm everything.
Storm’s in his crate, curled up asleep. The soft rise and fall of his breathing fills the space with a steady rhythm, almost like background music to the quiet tension simmering in here.
Ivy shifts again, trying to bury her face against Rhett’s arm, but we’re not letting her off easy. Rhett dips his head, kissing her hair. I lean in from the other side, brushing my lips along her calf.
She shivers.
Before long, we’re kissing her—me capturing her mouth when Rhett pulls back, Rhett tracing his lips along her throat when I give her room to breathe.
The taste of her is addictive. Sweet and warm.
Rhett pulls back with a groan. “How about we order a late dinner before this goes any further?”
I grunt, reluctant but knowing he’s right. If we don’t settle food now, none of us will eat tonight.
We toss around ideas until we land on something easy—Thai. Ivy rattles off her usual order like she’s done a hundred times, and I can’t stop smiling at how natural it feels. Rhett places the call, and soon enough we’re sprawled again, waiting.
That’s when I get the itch.
“How about a card game as we wait?” I suggest, reaching for the cards on the coffee table. “We can make it interesting.”
Ivy arches a brow. “Interesting how?”
“Strip poker,” I say simply.
Her eyes widen, but Rhett’s grin spreads slow and wicked. “I like it.”
The rules don’t even need to be explained. Within minutes, we’re playing fast, losing track of rounds, laughter turning breathless as clothing gets tossed aside.
Ivy’s down to her bra and panties, perched between us, cheeks flushed.
I’ve lost everything but my boxers and one sock—don’t even remember how the hell that happened, but Ivy’s giggle when she pointed it out had me too distracted to care.
Rhett, somehow, is shirtless but still in his jeans, looking smug as hell about it.
The air is charged. Ivy’s hair clings to her neck, damp with sweat, her laughter turning into low hums of arousal each time we lean in too close.
I can see where this is going. It won’t be long before she’s naked between us, exactly where we want her.
And then the doorbell rings.
The sound slices through the haze, sharp and unexpected. Rhett curses under his breath, shoving up from the couch. “I’ll get it.”
Ivy starts to move off me, but I grab her waist, pulling her back down into my lap. My voice is low, teasing. “You know how much I like having you here.”
She giggles, wriggling just enough to press against me. Her warmth seeps into every inch of me, the thin lace of her panties no barrier at all.
I growl softly, pressing her into the cushions of the sofa. Her body arches, her laugh dissolving into a sharp gasp.
The muffled sound of Rhett’s voice drifts from the doorway. He’s talking to someone, but we can’t make out the words.
I don’t care. Not right now. Not when Ivy’s straddling me, her hands braced against my chest, her lips parted like she’s daring me to claim her.
I tighten my grip on her hips, and for a moment it feels like the whole world has narrowed to just this.
Just her. Just us.