“Unnecessary, my dude.”
I quirk a brow, waiting for more.
“I’ve decided to free the balls,” he says casually, like my five-year-old daughter and my fucking girlfriend of fifteen minutes aren’t right here. “Can’t run out of undies if you refuse to wear ’em, kid.”
“Gross,” I mutter, unable to even chance a look at Hannah because yes, this is my father.
“Grampa!” Lucky squeals, throwing her back with laughter.
Dad chuckles. “I thought I’d stop in on my way, stay a little, hang out with my Lady Luck,” he says, gently squeezing Lucky’s knee. “Maybe I can catch a game.”
I nod. “Yeah, we’re wrapping up the regular season this week.”
“Can I come?” Lucky asks hopefully, as she does at almost every mention of my games.
I huff an exhale, looking up at her, which is the wrong move because the look of pleading on that little girl’s face is enough to make me hand her my black AMEX and tell her to go nuts.
“Baby, you know hockey games aren’t a nice place for a kid,” I remind her, noticing the way Hannah looks at me the moment the lie slips from my lips.
Lucky’s little shoulders fall on an obvious sigh. “Okay, Daddy.”
“I should go,” Hannah says after a few beats. “It’s getting late.”
“I’ll drive you,” I say, squeezing her hip softly.
“Are you sure?” She glances from me to my dad and back again. “You don’t want to stay and catch up with your dad?”
I make a face and she bites back a smirk.
“It’s fine,” Dad says, oblivious. “I can get little homie to bed. I can’t wait to read the next installment ofPig the Pug.”
CHAPTER 32
HANNAH
Happy is quiet on the drive back to my place. So not like himself. The only sound is Counting Crows playing softly through the speakers, and Toast Malone panting right in my ear, his huge head poking between the front seats.
I shift in my seat, considering myself. Because I know what deflated Happy’s mood, but I don’t know if it’s my place to mention anything. Glancing at him out the corner of my eye, I notice the way his jaw tics, like he’s grinding his molars, and I reach over and place my hand on top of his as it rests on the gear stick.
“Happy, I need to tell you something,” I say carefully, gently.
“You can tell me anything.” He glances at me, flipping his hand over and linking his fingers with mine.
“Last night, when I came to your house, and I was sitting with Lucky,” I begin, pausing to contemplate my words. With a thick swallow, I continue, “She told me something…”
“What?” Happy asks, a slightly panicked tone in his voice.
I drag my teeth over my bottom lip, hesitating.
“Baby Draper?” he presses, gently squeezing my hand.
“She told me that she feels like you keep her a secret, and it makes her feel bad.”
Happy releases a heavy exhale. “She’s been asking me more and more recently why she can’t do things that other kids do. Why she never gets to go places with me. Why she never gets to come to my games.” He sighs again. “I feel like I fucked up.”
My brows knit together. “What? Why?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve spent so much time keeping her locked up, hiding her from the world, and I did it all for her, you know? But I never stopped to considerherfeelings, to ask her whatshewanted. I fucked up, and I feel like a shitty parent.”
