“Happy, you are so far from a shitty parent, so don’t even say that.”
He scoffs a self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, I haven’t even told my best friend I have a kid. No one knows. I’ve never posted photos of her at Christmas, or blowing out her birthday candles, or hell, I don’t know, fucking Father’s Day, nothing. Fuck me, she’s supposed to start school in the fall and nobody in my life even knows she exists.”
“So tell them.”
Happy looks at me again, but he doesn’t say anything, his dark eyes searching mine before he turns back to the road.
“You know,” I start, tentatively. “I could always take Lucky to a game.”
His head snaps back to me at that, and I can see by the heavy rise and fall of his chest that the sheer thought of Lucky going to a Thunder game gives him anxiety.
“I can get her in and out through the player’s entrance, out of view of media and fans. Keep her safe up in the box. And I love that little girl, Happy. You know I would do everything to keep her safe.” I know he’s not ready to commit to anything right now, and that’s totally understandable, so I give his hand another reassuring squeeze. “Just… think about it. For Lucky.”
A few beats pass, and Happy nods. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’re a good father, Happy,” I say with a small smile when he meets my eyes again. “Don’t you dare ever doubt that.”
Jackass: Hey, I’m about to lose my phone for fuck knows how long, but I just wanted to say thank you for everything.
I read the message on my phone a few times before it finally clicks, and with a small gasp, I quickly update the contact, suddenly feeling bad that I’d saved him as Jackass.
Brookes Devereaux: And I’m sorry for being a jackass.
I can’t help but smile at that.
Me: Thanks, Brookes. I can’t say I know what you’re going through, but I’m so glad you’re getting help.
Me: And I hate literally everything about golf, but I promise I’ll come see you play when you get back to it.
Brookes Devereaux: Make sure you bring my guy, Happy.
I roll my eyes at that, but before I can respond, I’m interrupted by a hand on my shoulder, startled so suddenly that my phone falls from my hands and hits my desk with a loud thud.
“Hey, liar, liar panties on fire.”
Spinning around, I’m met with Millie looking down at me with one arched brow, a Magnolia Bakery box in her hand, which immediately perks me up.
“Uh-uh!” She moves the box away. “No sweet treats for you until you tell me absolutely everything. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you dodging my text messages with annoying one-word answers.”
I bite my lips together in a sheepish smile.
“You, me, coffee, now.” Millie points toward the break room and I huff, pushing up from my desk and following her and her Magnolia Bakery box.
Two vanilla cupcakes and an iced latte later, Millie is practically choking on her own excitement at my confession, bouncing around, jumping up and down, clapping her hands together like a fucking seal.
“You and Happy!” She clutches a hand to her chest, and for a second I almost think she’s about to start crying, but then she sucks in a gasp, lowering her voice. “Oh my God, does your dad know?”
I shake my head. “I’ll tell him.”
Her eyes bulge. “How do you think he’ll take it?”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Honestly, my father is the least of our worries…” I don’t add that the real threat to all of this is Chris Garret. I know he won’t say a word to out himself as a lying cheater. And it’s not me that I’m worried about. Chris knows about Lucky, and I don’t trust him one fucking bit.
“Oh my God!” Millie squeals again. Claps her hands again. Bounces up and down, again.
“What?” My brows knit together.
“You can travel to the playoff games with us!”
