Page 17 of Golden Goal

“Don’t give me that look, Holt. You and I both know you didn’t want kids. They would have gotten in the way of your career. Even I wasn’t important enough to you, which is why we’re not together anymore.”

I clench my jaw so hard I’m surprised I don’t break any teeth. I run my free hand down my face.

“No, you wanted me to be traded to Vancouver, and I didn’t want to go.”

She sighs. “Selfish. That’s what you were. All I wanted was for you to support me.” She crosses her arms, glaring at me, and I wait for her to stomp her foot for good measure. “But you wouldn’t.”

I shake my head. “You know damn well that’s not what happened,” I tell her through gritted teeth.

“Really? All the fighting. Arguing.” She shudders, putting a hand to her chest. “It got so stressful at the end.”

I start to argue with her but am interrupted by the baby’s cries. I shift the car seat in my hand so I can gently rock her.

“You still should have called. I deserved to know,” I grit out. “You’re telling me now because you realized you don’t want to be a mother anymore, right?”

“Yep.” She pops the p, picking at her nails. “This is all your fault, so now she’s yours. I can’t juggle both my career and being a mother. I tried. And I’m not giving up my career.”

Holy shit. If I had both hands, I’d shake her.

“Kathryn,” I growl. “You owe me more of an explanation about all of this. I didn’t even know I had a daughter until right now.” I raise my voice, and the baby cries even more. “I don’t even know her name.”

“Kathryn Alexis Summerset. All the paperwork is in there.” She tips her chin toward the bag at my feet. “Her birth certificate. Medical records. I even had my lawyer draw up a paper signing over all my rights to you.”

Of course she named our daughter after herself. I wonder how much work it will be to change her name. There’s no way in hell I’m going to saddle my daughter with the name of the woman who abandoned her.

Nope. Not happening.

She turns on her heel, and without another word, stalks toward the elevator, leaving me standing in the hallway with a crying baby.

“Shit.” I grab the diaper bag at my feet and carry it, and the car seat, inside my apartment. “Shhhh,” I soothe, unbuckling her and picking her up, thanking my mother for making me take babysitting and CPR classes when I was a kid, so at least I kind of know what to do. I cradle her in my arms, and she immediately stops crying. I smile down at her, rocking her. “You poor thing. Can I set you down so I can get the rest of your things?”

She doesn’t respond because of course she doesn’t. She’s a baby. She doesn’t talk. I set her gently back down in her car seat and make quick work of bringing the rest of her stuff, which consists of a stroller and a large suitcase, inside. I scrub a hand down my face.

I’m a dad.

I’m a fucking dad.

I take a shaky breath.

What the fuck?

My heart races.

I don’t even have a crib for her. Or anything except whatever Kat brought. Which, knowing her, is probably just clothes and toys that she’s too young to play with.

I wipe the sweat off my face and take a deep breath. The elephant is back. I close my eyes for a second, counting back from ten. Now is not the time for another panic attack.

What do I do?

My parents and sister are thousands of miles away. They can’t help me right now. I pick up the car seat gently because she’s asleep and walk back to the living room.

“Caleb,” I mutter.

He’s our former captain and still lives locally with his family. He’s got two kids. He’ll know what to do.

I punch his number in, and he picks up on the second ring.

“Holt. What’s up?”