22. Rhett
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rhett
Three days feels like three years.
Every minute since we went in for the test has been heavy, thick in my chest. I kept pretending like I wasn’t counting, like I wasn’t listening for the phone to buzz, like I wasn’t bracing myself every time I opened my inbox.
But the truth is, I haven’t thought of much else.
Now it’s here. The envelope on the table between us feels like it’s burning holes in the wood. Ivy’s fingers are tangled in her sweatshirt hem, Hunter is leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and me… I can’t move.
My name is on the seal.
“Do you want me to—” Hunter asks softly.
I shake my head. My hand trembles just a little as I reach for it. My throat is too dry, my tongue heavy. For all the ways I’ve pictured this moment, I never imagined how hard it would be just to break a line of glue.
I tear the paper. I unfold it. My eyes skim the neat black letters, the clinical phrasing that has nothing to do with the chaos inside me.
Probability of paternity: 99.99%.
I let out a sound I don’t recognize. Half laugh, half sob, raw in my chest.
Hunter sits up straighter. Ivy shifts closer to me on the sofa, her eyes wide, searching.
“She’s mine,” I say, and the words feel foreign and familiar all at once. “She’s my daughter.”
The truth of it crashes through me like a wave I can’t hold back.
My chest tightens, my vision blurs. I press the paper flat against my thigh, staring at the words again and again like they’ll change if I look long enough.
But they don’t. They stay the same.
I am Chloe’s father.
The walls I’ve built around myself for years, the ones that kept me safe, the ones I thought made me strong—they’re splintering.
I spent so long convincing myself I didn’t need this. That I couldn’t have it. That kids were for other people. That I was better off alone.
And now she’s here. She’s been here all along.
I press a hand over my face. My shoulders shake.
Ivy’s hand touches my arm, light and tentative. Hunter shifts closer, his voice low, firm. “Rhett. Look at me.”
I drag my hand down, meeting his steady gaze.
“This changes nothing,” he says. “She’s still ours. Still Chloe. Still the same baby we’ve been raising together every day. You don’t lose us in this.”
I swallow hard, my chest burning. “But it does change something. It changes everything. I’m her father, Hunter.” The words crack on my tongue. “I’m?—”
“Yeah,” he cuts in, his mouth tugging into a small, soft smile. “You are. You’re her dad. And you’re not alone in it.”
The conviction in his voice makes my throat ache worse. He believes it, down to his bones. And somehow that belief steadies me.
Ivy squeezes my arm gently. “She already knows who you are, Rhett. She knows you’re hers.”
I think of Chloe’s laugh, the way she lights up when I walk into the room. The way she reaches for me with her tiny hands, how she curls into my chest when she’s tired.
She’s known all along.
The weight shifts in me, not lighter, but different. Heavier in the best way. Real. Permanent.
I let out a long breath and shake my head, laughing under it even as more tears burn at the corners of my eyes.
“I never thought… damn, I never thought I’d be anyone’s father. Never thought I’d be raising a baby with my best friend. And yet here we are.”
Hunter chuckles softly, leaning back again, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Life’s got a way of blindsiding us.”
“No kidding.”
The room is quiet for a moment, filled only by the faint static hum of the baby monitor on the table. Ivy shifts again, her hand still resting on my arm like she’s grounding me in place.
I glance at her, at Hunter, then back to the paper in my lap. “So what now?”
“We move forward,” Hunter says simply. “We do what we said we’d do. Guardianship. Custody. We make sure Chloe is safe and secure, no matter what.”
I nod slowly, the words settling inside me. Guardianship. Custody. Legalities that will bind us the way love already has.
“There’s a team event tonight,” I say after a moment. My voice is rough, but steady. “Afterward… maybe we could invite Landon over for drinks. Talk through options with him. Figure out the next steps.”
Hunter meets my eyes, then nods once. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”
Ivy looks between us, her expression soft but certain. “We’ll figure it out together.”
The words sink deep. Together.
The sound of Chloe stirring crackles through the monitor, followed by a soft little cry. I push to my feet before either of them moves.
“I’ll get her.” My voice is steady now, stronger than it was a few minutes ago.
When I return with her, she’s warm against my chest, her tiny fist gripping my shirt. Her eyes are heavy with sleep, her mouth puckered in that way that makes my heart feel like it’s splitting open.
I carry her back to the sofa where Hunter and Ivy are waiting.
We all stretch out together, pulling blankets over us, Chloe in the middle. She blinks up at us, yawns, then nestles down, her cheek pressed to my chest.
Hunter tucks himself against her other side, his hand resting gently on her back. Ivy curls near my shoulder, her fingers brushing over Chloe’s tiny hand until it wraps around her pinky.
The three of us are quiet, breathing her in, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. And it hits me again—sharp, undeniable.
I’m her father.
Me. Rhett Collins. The guy who spent most of his life with a wall around his heart, convinced that love was temporary, that family was fragile, that he was better off keeping everything at arm’s length.
The guy who thought his past was proof that he wasn’t cut out for this.
Now I’m lying here with my daughter on my chest. With my best friend at my side. With Ivy wrapped into us like she belongs.
It feels terrifying. It feels impossible.
But mostly, it feels right.
I press a kiss to the top of Chloe’s head, breathing her in. My voice is a whisper, just for her. “I’ve got you, Peanut. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her tiny body shifts against me, and Hunter’s hand covers mine, firm and steady. Ivy sighs, resting her head on my shoulder.
The bonfire crackles, flames snapping high into the dusk air, throwing sparks against a sky streaked pink and orange. The beach is packed tonight.
Teammates spread out across the sand in loose clusters, beer bottles in hand, laughter carrying over the wind. Someone set up a speaker near the coolers, music humming under the crash of waves.
I haven’t put Chloe down once.
She’s curled in my arms, soft weight pressed to my chest, her little head tucked beneath my chin.
The smell of salt air mixes with baby shampoo, and even surrounded by noise and movement, my entire world is right here in the crook of my elbow.
“Rhett.”
I glance up. Brooke is stepping toward me, the firelight catching in her hair. She has both Skye and Sage in a baby carrier, and I catch Ace and Tanner lingering just behind them, both already half-engaged in some loud argument over who’s faster off the line. Typical.
Brooke smiles, eyes flicking down to Chloe. “So. Big news, huh?”
Her voice is gentle, not prying. Just enough to tell me she knows. Which means the rest of them will, too, soon enough.
My throat feels tight. “Big news.”
Her expression softens. “How are you holding up?”
I shift Chloe higher, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before answering. “I’m… good. Better than I thought I’d be.”
And it’s true. The anxiety in my chest is still there, but it’s no longer crushing. It’s grounding.
Chloe coos and I kiss the tip of her fingers.
Brooke grins. “She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger.”
I let out a breath that’s half laugh. “Wrapped, tied, and knotted, apparently.”
Ace joins us and takes the carrier from his wife. I exchange polite greetings with my former coach as he asks about practice so far. It takes my mind of everything for a couple of minutes.
Then Tanner calls to Ace and he excuses himself, leaving me with Brooke once again. Brooke squeezes my arm before stepping back. “You’re going to be great, Rhett. She’s lucky to have you.”
I nod, but words don’t come. Not when my chest feels like it’s about to split open again.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Landon. He’s standing near the edge of the circle of light, talking with Cam.
Landon’s got that lawyer posture—straight, controlled—even in casual jeans. Cam gestures wildly, already halfway through some story, but Landon just tilts his head, listening in that sharp, assessing way of his.
The whole team is here. Some tossing a football down by the water, others leaning back in camp chairs, legs stretched out, laughing too loud.
It’s a good night. It should feel easy. But the truth is, my arms tighten around Chloe every time someone comes too close. Like I need to prove, even here, that she’s mine.
Hunter and Ivy return from the cooler with beers, sand sticking to their bare feet. Hunter hands me one without asking. Ivy leans into his side, smiling at Chloe first, then at me.
“How are you holding up?” she asks, the same question Brooke had, only softer.
I twist the cap off the beer but don’t take a sip. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Hunter lifts his brows. “You don’t look fine.”
I give him a flat look, but his grin is easy, teasing. “I’m serious,” I add. “I’m good. But it’s almost six. We should head home soon.”
Ivy glances at me, then toward where Landon is still standing with Cam. “I’ll invite him over.”
I nod slowly, shifting Chloe again. My arms ache, but I don’t let go.
Hunter notices, of course. He always does. He reaches out, gently lifting Chloe from me. She settles against his chest without fuss, her tiny fingers grabbing at the fabric of his shirt.
“She needs her diaper changed,” he says, rocking her lightly. “We’ll meet you in the car.”
Ivy nods, already tucking her hair behind her ear like she’s bracing herself.
I watch them head across the sand—Hunter steady, Chloe snug against him. The fire pops behind me, voices rising in laughter again, music thumping low. But all I can think about is the weight that’s no longer in my arms, the space that feels too empty without her.
My daughter.
I grip the beer tighter, swallowing against the knot in my throat.