A KISS FOR A KISS

by Hunting, Helena

  But as I stand here, bleary-eyed and uncertain, I realize one very important thing. I may have been ready to move on with my life, but I made a choice, exactly like I did back when I was nineteen. And choices have consequences. Just because I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this, doesn’t mean I should be a selfish asshole about it.

  Which is exactly how I acted last night with Hanna.

  I can’t imagine how she must feel right now. How nervous she must be. How alone she must feel. I don’t want this to be an echo of her teens, when she found out she was pregnant the first time. Or an echo of mine, where I pushed my own agenda and forgot to take into account that it’s more than just being a good dad, it’s about being a reliable partner, however that looks. I don’t want to have the same regrets with Hanna as I did with Kimmie.

  “Ah, shit.” I press the heel of my hand to my eye and rub. “Way to be an asshat.” I think I handled this news better the first time around.

  I head down the hall to the bathroom. I need a shower to clear my head. And then I need to talk to Hanna, and hopefully be less of an idiot than I was last night.

  _______________

  I ARRIVE AT Queenie and Kingston’s house at six-thirty. Based on Ryan’s social media, they closed down the bar at two in the morning. I doubt they’ll be up anytime soon.

  I let myself in with the entry code—dad privileges—and reset the alarm. I make my way to the bedroom Hanna is staying in, grateful it’s on the main floor and King and Queenie are upstairs, so my being here won’t wake them.

  I knock on her door and am unsurprised when I don’t get a response right away. Before I think about what I’m doing, I send her a text and hear the phone’s muffled chime from inside the room. There’s a song attached to my messages.

  I’m about to leave my post and make myself comfortable in the living room, and maybe grab a nap, but the sound of feet padding across the floor makes me pause.

  The door opens and Hanna blinks at me blearily. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not even seven.” She scrubs her face with her hand and smacks her lips.

  “I know. I couldn’t sleep. I shouldn’t have woken you. I wanted to apologize for the way I acted last night. I was an asshole.”

  Her eyes fall closed and she nods, whether in agreement or acknowledgement, I’m unsure. She’s wearing an oversized night shirt that reads I like sleep more than people. Her long hair is pulled up into a ponytail that’s half falling out of the tie.

  “I’ll be in the living room when you’re awake enough to talk.” I take a step down the hall, but Hanna grabs my wrist.

  “Come in. Give me a few minutes.” She drops my wrist and leaves me standing in the middle of the bedroom as she disappears into the bathroom.

  There’s a small sitting area to the right, so I take a seat and survey the space. Her clothes from last night lie in a heap on the floor. The sheets are rumpled and twisted, and there’s a pile of tissues littering the pale blue comforter, as well as a few on the floor.

  Which means there were tears.

  Caused by me.

  A few minutes later, she reappears, her hair smoothed out, and she’s wearing a long shirt and leggings.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She shrugs and pads across the room, dropping into the chair across from me. “I’ve been better, and I’ve been worse.”

  “I’m sorry about the way I handled things last night. Or didn’t handle things. I know it’s not an excuse, but I’d just started getting used to having an empty house, and Queenie having her own person to rely on. And it took me back to when she was a baby and I was doing it all on my own and how hard it was then. I wasn’t thinking about how you felt or how hard this must all be for you.”

  Hanna is silent for a few seconds. “It’s a lot to process, and I don’t expect you to feel good about it, or particularly enthused, but you needed to know. Do I wish the timing was different? That I was five years younger? That our relationship wasn’t already complicated enough without this? Absolutely. But like it or not, Jake, I’m having this baby.”

  I wish I’d reacted to the news differently so she isn’t on the defensive. “And I’m going to be here to support you through it. I know there’s still a lot to figure out, but maybe once you’ve seen your doctor we can start making a plan? I’d like to be able to come to the important doctor’s appointments. I don’t want you to have to do this alone.”

  She rubs her eyes and exhales a slow breath. “I don’t expect you to fly to Tennessee every time I have an appointment.”

  “I know you don’t. I want to be there, Hanna. As much as my schedule will allow. We can use that shared calendar we set up for all the events leading up to the kids’ wedding, so I can keep track of all the important stuff with you.” With Kimmie, I was the one who had to make all the appointments and make sure she went to them. I’d assumed, naively, that once Queenie was born, she’d fall in love with her the way I already had. I don’t get the feeling it’s going to be the same with Hanna. In fact, if I had to guess, I’m going to be the one who has to work to earn her trust back after last night and my jerk behavior.

  “Oh. Yeah. Okay. We can definitely do that.” She rubs her temple, her posture relaxing a little.

  I knead the back of my neck. “Speaking of the kids, when do you think we should tell them what’s going on?”

  She fingers the heart around her neck. “I’d really rather not keep more secrets from Ryan, so the sooner the better, I guess?”

  “This morning then?” I suggest.

  “That would be best, I think,” she agrees.

  I wish she was here longer, so we had more time to get comfortable with this new version of us. Whatever that’s going to look like. I have so many questions, none of which I feel I can ask yet. “Do you want to tell them together or separately?”

  Hanna taps her lips. “I think it would be best if we presented a united front, unless you feel differently?”

  “United is good.” I move my chair closer and rest my arm on the small table, palm facing up, fingers stretched toward her. “What are you most worried about right now?”

  “Everything?” She tips her chin up, eyes on the ceiling as if she’s fighting back tears. “I’m worried for the health of this baby. I’m worried about how Ryan is going to take this and what it’s going to do to our relationship. I’m afraid to get excited or hopeful because I know how quickly things can change. The last time I was pregnant was the beginning of the end of my marriage.”

  “Is that why you ended up divorcing?” This isn’t something Hanna and I have ever talked about. I know about her divorce, but I don’t know what happened to end her marriage in the first place. And in some ways our experiences seem to echo each other. We both lost the person who was supposed to be our partner, but I still had Queenie, and Hanna ended up alone.

  She slips her fingers into my palm and I curl them around hers and squeeze.

  “I don’t talk about this much because it makes me emotional.” She takes a deep breath before she continues, “When I miscarried, I had to divulge that I’d had a baby before. I hadn’t told Gordon that I was Ryan’s biological mother.”

  “Why not? You didn’t think he would understand?”

  “So many reasons, but I think most of it stems from guilt. The not being able to raise Ryan the way I wanted to. And I guess that secrecy tells me more about that relationship than I’d ever been willing to admit. At least while I was still in it.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Gordon felt . . . betrayed. Which made sense. We’d been married for fifteen years, and it was a big secret to keep from the person you share your life with. When he found out that Ryan was actually my son, he didn’t handle it well. And I was grieving the loss of our baby. He sat on that information for a couple of years, but when I told him I wasn’t happy in our marriage and thought we should separate, he told Ryan the truth, and well, there was no way for our ma
rriage to recover after that.”

  After everything Hanna has been through and the ways she’s been let down and betrayed, I’m surprised she’s even willing to talk to me this morning. “That must have been hard for you.”

  “Harder for Ryan. I always knew I was his mother, and he always believed I was his sister. It threw his world into upheaval.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell Ryan before that?” That’s one thing I’ve always wondered but never felt I had the right to ask.

  “When I was young, I thought it made sense for my parents to take on that role. I didn’t want to give him up for adoption, but raising a child when I was fifteen was so daunting. So when my parents said they would adopt him, I thought it would be best for Ryan. For all of us. He’d still be in my life. But as he got older, things changed. I never moved away for college. I was there for every milestone. And when he made it to the NHL, well, I was so proud.” She smiles, like she’s caught up in the memory.

  “By the time I was in my thirties, I started to look at things differently. And I talked to my parents about maybe telling him the truth. But he’d just started his career, and they were worried it would do too much damage. They’d made sure he would have everything he needed to be successful in life, and I didn’t want to be selfish. So I didn’t tell him.”

  “That selflessness came at a pretty steep price for you.” She must have felt handcuffed by that choice. Stuck between two roles.

  “And I would pay it a thousand times over knowing that Ryan is where he is because he was loved and cared for. He’s a great man, and he has a great partner. I have so much hope for Ryan and Queenie.”

  “So do I.” And I mean it. He’s the balance Queenie needs. He’s her anchor, and she’s his buoy.

  “I really don’t want this to strain their relationship.” Hanna motions between us.

  “Are you worried it will?” King always seems to be able to roll with things.

  “Our lives are completely intertwined now, on so many different levels. We’re their parents, and now we have this unexpected baby on the way. It’s a complex and delicate situation. What exactly are we going to tell them?”

  I brush a few stray hairs away from her face, and I am relieved when she leans into the touch instead of shying away. “We tell them the truth. That we share an attraction. That we acted on it and you’re pregnant.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  I wish that it were. “With a situation like this, I think simple is best. We tell them that you’re planning to see a doctor when you get back to Tennessee and that we’re going to go from there. I know we can’t predict the future, Hanna, but we’ll find a way to make it work.” I take her other hand in mine. “Now I have an important question for you.”

  “Okay.” She’s still guarded and uncertain.

  “Can I give you a hug?”

  She covers her mouth with her hand and nods.

  This is what I should have done yesterday. I stand and pull her up with me so I can wrap my arms around her. “We’ll figure it out, Hanna.”

  “Thank you,” she murmurs into my chest.

  “For what?”

  “Being you.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I Didn’t See That Coming

  Jake

  IT’S ONLY SEVEN-thirty in the morning, and considering the late hour the kids came in, I don’t expect they’ll be up anytime soon. Since both Hanna and I are woefully underslept, she suggests a pre-conversation nap. I assume I’ll be taking mine on the living room couch, or in one of the spare rooms upstairs, but she pats the space beside her and we both pass out.

  I wake up several hours later.

  Hanna is propped up on the pillows beside me, her phone in her hand.

  “Time’s it?” I mumble.

  She chuckles. “It’s after eleven. We should probably get up and face the music, huh?”

  The haze of sleep is quick to lift. “It feels a lot like we’re the kids again and we’re about to get grounded for bad behavior.”

  Hanna grins. “Seems rather fitting. And Ryan has this disapproving dad look that makes you feel like a scolded child when you do something he doesn’t like.”

  I think about that for a second. “Shit, you’re right. He really does. He’s totally going to be the bad cop in that relationship when they have kids.”

  “He won’t even have to be the bad cop. He’ll give them the look, and they’ll feel like garbage for whatever it was they thought about doing wrong but didn’t.”

  She rolls out of bed and makes a face as she stands there.

  I sit up in a rush. “You okay?”

  She holds up a finger and her whole body curves in for a second. It reminds me of a cat horking up a hairball. “Hanna?”

  She shakes her head. “I forgot about the joys of morning sickness. I’ll be back.” She rushes to the bathroom and closes the door. The water comes on a second later, but it doesn’t quite cover the sound of her retching.

  I knock softly and ask if I can do anything for her, like hold her hair, but she tells me she’s okay and it should pass fairly quickly.

  I cautiously step into the hall, wanting to give her some privacy. Queenie could always sleep until noon on weekends, but King is regimented. I tiptoe down the hall and am relieved to find the kitchen empty when I get there.

  I pour Hanna a fresh glass of water and search the cupboards for dry, salty carbohydrates. I remember Kimmie having terrible morning sickness with Queenie. The kind that lasted all day, which makes the term morning sickness sound pretty damn misleading. She walked around with a box of crackers until that passed.

  I find saltines and plain chips. As I’m heading back down the hall to the bedroom with snacks and water for Hanna, I hear the sound of footfalls on the second floor.

  The shower is running when I get back to the bedroom. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens, and Hanna appears, hair wrapped in a towel, body wrapped in a robe.

  “I brought you crackers and water.” I hold them up for her to see.

  “You are a saint.”

  “Hardly, considering the things I’ve done to you while you’re naked.” I internally cringe at the bad joke, but she chuckles.

  “In bed you’re the Oracle of Orgasms. Right now, you’re the Saint of Saltines.” She takes the package from me and kisses me on the cheek before she pops a cracker into her mouth. Her eyes fall closed for a moment as she chews.

  When they pop back open, I pass her the water and she takes a sip, then another and another.

  “Are the kids up yet?” she asks.

  “I heard them moving around upstairs when I was in the kitchen.”

  “Okay. I’ll get dressed and we can do this.” She blows out a breath. “I don’t know if the nausea is actually morning sickness or nerves at this point. Or both.”

  She eats another cracker before she disappears back into the bathroom to change. She’s been naked in front of me plenty of times, but there’s a shift in our relationship now. One I’m going to have to learn to navigate.

  Her hair is brushed and she’s back in the clothes she was wearing earlier. She comes to stand in front of me. My shirt is wrinkly from our nap, and I don’t look nearly as put together as she does. She smooths her hands over my chest. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” Or as ready as I’ll ever be to tell my adult daughter and my son-in-law that I’m about to be a parent for the second time.

  My palms start to sweat as we head for the kitchen. I can hear the low sounds of laughter and the clinking of dishes.

  “Morning,” Hanna says as we step across the threshold.

  “Morning, Momster, you have a good sleep?” King’s back is to us as he pulls a pint glass from the cupboard and sets it beside the gallon of milk on the counter.

  But Queenie is facing us, chopping fresh pineapple for a fruit platter. Her smile turns inquisitive as her gaze shifts from Hanna to me. “Hey, Dad, when did you get here?” Her eyes move over my outfit. />
  King spins around, brow furrowed as he takes us both in. Like Queenie, his gaze moves over my rumpled shirt. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and Queenie is dressed in a long, flowy shirt and leggings, the same as Hanna.

  “I came over early, but I didn’t want to disturb you, so I let myself in.”

  “Oh.” The furrow in King’s brow deepens, eyes flitting between Hanna and me.

  “Come have a seat, I’ll pour you a coffee.” Queenie motions to the stools at the island. “We were going to make bacon and eggs for breakfast.”

  Ryan’s suspicion is clear in the way he keeps glancing at us as he sets two mugs onto the counter. It reminds me a lot of the time I found him sneaking out of Queenie’s room when they first started seeing each other. He’d been painfully honest about the allergic reaction he had to a milkshake that my daughter had been drinking. His face was a swollen mess. Or at least I’d thought he’d been honest. I got a lot more information the next day on the ice when I saw exactly where that rash led. That’s filed under things I never wanted to know about my daughter and my goalie.

  And right now, with the way King is looking at us, I can relate in a way I never have before to exactly how shitty it must have been for King and Queenie when they’d been trying to toe a line and fight their attraction for each other.

  King spoons sugar and adds a dash of cream to the cup on the right that reads #1 Momster, and is clearly meant for Hanna. He fills it with coffee and passes it to her.

  “Thank you.” Her smile is strained as she takes the coffee from him and brings it to her lips. She takes a tentative sip and grimaces. “Oh, that’s . . . oh no.” She sets the cup onto the counter and pushes her stool back, rushing to the bathroom off the kitchen. A moment later, a door slams shut.

  “Is Hanna okay? What the heck is going on?” King asks.

  “She’s not feeling great this morning,” I say.

  “Momster?” he calls out. “Are you okay?” His narrowed eyes shift my way.