“You okay?” he asks.
“Umm, yeah, I—” I feel sick in my gut with nerves and trepidation and worry.Jesus, get a grip, Happy.“Yeah, come on up,” I say, waving them to follow me.
“Is Hannah here?” Emily asks.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing the stairs, my eyes landing on Hannah and Lucky waiting for us, hand-in-hand. “She’s… up here.”
As everyone makes it up to the first-floor landing one at a time, I watch their faces morph from casual to confused as they look from Hannah to Lucky to me, the silence in the room palpable.
“Hey, guys!” Hannah says cheerfully with a wave as Lucky shifts closer and closer before moving behind her, shielding herself instinctively.
“Hey…” Logan says, slowly turning to me, one of his brows quirked questioningly.
I walk over to Hannah, and I hold my hand out for Lucky, which she thankfully accepts, cuddling up to me. “So, everyone, this is Lucky,” I say with a wavering smile, glancing down at my daughter and offering her a reassuring wink. Looking back at my friends, I nod once. “My daughter.”
Fran, Emily, and Millie gasp, covering their gaping mouths.
Robbie looks from me to Lucky and back again.
Logan stares directly at me with an unreadable expression.
Dallas guffaws, looking around at everyone as if this is some candid camera show. “What the fu?—”
“Fudge!” Dad interjects loudly as he rounds the kitchen island, carrying a gourmet charcuterie board he whipped up. “Now, who likes baked Camembert?”
“Holy shit, Hap,” Robbie says on a rushed exhale, relaxing back in the patio chair, shaking his head to himself.
After dropping the bomb of all bombs, I decided it was best to take the guys down to the courtyard, leaving Lucky upstairs with Hannah and the girls. Lucky started to open up when Hannah suggested they put the sing-along version ofKPop Demon Hunterson the television, and of course, my dad chose to stay because he’s a sucker for an impromptu karaoke session.
I told the guys everything. I told them how I met Lucky’s mom when I was in college. I told them how she died. I told them about Lucky’s C-PTSD. I told them why I’ve kept my daughter hidden. I told them everything, and they listened without judgement.
“Yeah, my guy,” Dallas says. “A kid. Shit.” He stares off into the slightly overgrown trees that line the courtyard, taking a sip of his beer.
“How have you kept this so secret?” Robbie asks. “I mean,between practice, and games, and travel, you’re with us most of the time in some capacity. How have you not let slip that you have a daughter? I mean, I’d almost understand if she didn’t live with you and you only had her during the summers and at holidays, but you have full guardianship of a child, and no one knew?”
I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders. “I have a lot of help, between my mom and Lucky’s nanny, Allie. It’s been hard, but…” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “But I did it to keep Lucky safe.”
Robbie nods. “I get that.”
“She looks like you,” Dallas says with a grin.
I sniff a laugh, looking down at my hands. “Yeah, she does.”
“You good, man?” Robbie asks, and, thinking he’s talking to me, I look up to find he’s actually talking to Logan. And it’s only then I notice Logan hasn’t said a single word, just sat staring down at the untouched bottle of Miller Lite in his hands.
“Maybe we should go up and check how Jonny’s doing with dinner?” Dallas says, hefting his lofty frame up off the patio sofa.
“Jonny Slater,” Robbie scoffs, shaking his head and standing. “Cookingmedinner. Ma is gonna freak when I tell her.”
Dallas and Robbie walk inside, and suddenly it’s just me and Logan, and the tension in the air between us is noticeably thick.
I shift in my chair, looking down at my clasped hands, considering myself. But, before I can think of something to say to break the strained silence, Logan speaks first.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Snapping my head up, he’s not looking at me, still staring down at his beer. Slowly, he lifts his chin, and our eyes meet.
“I’m your best friend,” he says after a beat.
