Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
She’s yours.
The words pumped through my mind, blanketing every other thought in a sea of white.
It might as well be static. A daughter. There was no way.
We’d used a condom, and I would have known if the damn thing broke.
Did I even ask about birth control? Nope.
Didn’t even think twice about it. And now, I had a daughter.
Anna.
Her dark blue eyes met mine over Kinsley’s shoulder, staring at me despite the fat tears filling her eyes. Her lower lip stuck out, her chubby cheeks ruddy and red. Even upset, she was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.
God, we’d been together almost two years ago, which meant she was, what—a year old?
Too much. All of this was too much. The room spun around me, and I couldn’t take a full breath.
My heart pounded too hard, my blood pumped too heavily through my veins.
A daughter. I took a step back into the glass doors of the entrance.
The sudden chill hit my fingertips, enough to jolt but not knock me out of my stupor.
Air. I needed air. I needed to get out of this room, where everyone stared at me.
I shoved open the door behind me, rushing away from the daycare center, away from the little girl with my eyes and my hair.
The world was nothing but a distant nudge at my consciousness; sounds and senses nothing more than a flicker.
A daughter. I should go back, should face Kinsley and my new reality, but no matter how badly I wanted to, my feet refused to let me, continuing to pound on the pavement until I was blocks away.
The cold air of spring nipped at my nose and cheeks, but I barely felt it.
Numb. That was the best word for it. My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I just turned it off, not ready to face anyone else in my world, not when my mind was already a messed-up place.
My throat burned with the need to drink—to wipe away all the intrusive thoughts.
If this were two years ago, I would have done exactly that: walked into a bar and not leave until I couldn’t spell my own name. Now, that wasn’t an option. Even with everything in a tailspin, I couldn’t flush two years of hard work down the drain. Not when I had a—
“Fuck.”
I stopped moving, my feet planted on the sidewalk, staring up at the towering buildings around me.
There was no going back, no replacing the time I’d lost. God, where the hell did we go from here?
Did Kinsley want me in Anna’s life, or did she think I’d walk away from the both of them?
My hands clenched at my side. During my rookie season, the press loved to paint me as a party-boy.
Okay, maybe it had been partly true, but that wasn’t the whole picture, wasn’t who I was now.
I’d never forgive myself for losing out on that time with my daughter, for not having my phone when Kinsley tried to message me, but maybe that was for the best. The man I’d left behind in Erie City wasn’t who I wanted to be, wouldn’t be a good father to that little girl.
But now? I wanted to right my wrongs and be there for Anna.
And Kinsley.
Without another thought, I turned back around, running until I reached Sunshine Academy.
Kinsley’s SUV wasn’t in the parking lot, but I kept going until I reached the front door, jamming my finger into the intercom.
Victoria came out seconds later, a disappointed scowl filling her face.
Before she said anything, I held up my hand.
“Trust me, I’m well aware I messed up, but I need to talk to Kinsley. ”
“Did you try calling her?” Victoria asked, wrapping her arms around her center.
“We both know she won’t answer, Tori.” She sighed, searching out behind me.
“Please,” I said. “I’ve wasted enough time, and I can’t lose another second.
If she doesn’t want to see me, I’ll back off, but I need to talk to her.
I need to…” My words caught in my throat. “I need to get to know my daughter.”
Victoria squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I can’t give you her address without her permission. It would be a huge breach of privacy, I’d get in big trouble.”
“I’ll keep it quiet.” She shook her head. No dice. “What if you call her? She probably won’t answer me, but she’ll talk to you.”
“And if she says no?”
“I already told you—I’ll back off. Give her some time to come around. But I’m not going anywhere, not with Anna in the picture.”
She blew a breath between her lips and then pulled out her phone. Her brown eyes searched mine as it rang, tension brewing with each trill of the line. Kinsley answered, Victoria sighed. “Hey, he’s here.” She paused, her eyes flashing back to meet mine. “Yeah, I’ll tell him.”
Without a goodbye, she hung up, nodding over her shoulder. “Come on. Kinsley said to give you her address.”
“Sorry, it’s not much,” Kinsley whispered as she led me through the entryway.
She balanced Anna in one arm as she snored against her shoulder, her cheeks pressed against her mother’s sweater, her pacifier bouncing with each breath.
Her little pigtails were now askew; one of the pink butterfly clips had slid down into her curls.
The mark on her forehead had already faded, just a minor bump on her otherwise pristine skin.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Even though almost an hour had passed, it wasn’t any easier to believe. She was mine. There was no reason for Kinsley to lie to me, but people had burned me in the past—people who tried to manipulate me for money or other clout. God, please don’t let Kinsley be like that.
As we stepped into the living room, Kinsley turned, studying me with those dark, serious eyes.
If Anna had already claimed a piece of me, Kinsley held the other, even after years apart.
Motherhood looked good on her, added to those already luscious curves.
Even with all the tension between us, I craved her—wanted her—more than anything.
But we didn’t know each other. I’d bared my secrets for her the night we were together, and I thought she did the same, but we were still strangers.
Strangers who shared a child.
Anna opened her eyes and let out a quiet cry.
Kinsley jumped into action, rocking her back and forth in her arms. I moved further into her home.
The unit was modest, the first floor of a duplex on the south side of the city.
The area wasn’t the best, but her neighbors seemed to have a lot of pride in their homes.
Spring was just starting, but bulbs already burst through the various planter boxes lining the windows, and the houses all had decorations on the stoops.
It was quiet—quaint. A far cry from uptown, near the stadium, with its constant construction.
A lot of the older homes were being demolished—traded in for sleek skyscrapers and modern monstrosities.
Older architecture had always caught my eye, places where the handcrafted details stood the test of time.
As we walked through the halls, I rubbed the scuffed chair rail.
Just on the surface. An easy fix if you had a little time and some paint.
The same was true for a lot of the cosmetic issues around here.
Great bones; it just needed a little extra love.
After all the work I’d put into my home, it was second nature to walk into a room and decide what needed to be fixed.
Even after the Hawks bumped me from the team, I kept the house, debating renting it out down the line.
It needed a lot more work after sitting empty for so long—some pipes had to be replaced, and the downstairs bathroom needed a full gut after it flooded—but it was functional enough for someone to stay.
Too bad I hadn’t stayed there since I returned to the city.
I planned on moving back in, even having gone there on my first day back, but I couldn’t bring myself to stay the night—to hang my clothes back in the closet, like it was a bad omen.
As if the moment I got settled, the team would cut me again.
When Anna still didn’t settle, Kinsley sighed.
“She needs a nap. I’m going to put her down.
” Kinsley moved to a door on the opposite side of the living room and tried to nudge it open with her hip but couldn’t do it, so I reached around her and twisted the knob.
Her cheeks flushed. “Thanks. It’s getting harder now that she’s bigger. ”
“I wouldn’t know.”
The words came out too quickly. Kinsley’s eyes dipped again.
I shouldn’t have said that, but the apology refused to come.
It might not have been Kinsley’s fault I missed out on the first year of my daughter’s life, but it still happened.
I’d missed her birth, nights she’d cried out to be held, and so many other irreplaceable milestones.
Kinsley had over a year with our daughter, to see her grow from the moment she opened her eyes, and here I was, I was a stranger in her life.
Kinsley nodded, refusing to meet my eyes. “Let me get her settled, and then we can talk.”