12. Tate

“You really don’t want to join us for wings?” Nash asks again as we make our way through the small, private parking lot at LAX for the charter planes.

I shake my head. “Nah. I’m exhausted and I have stuff to do at home.”

“Are you finally banging that hot neighbor?” Crew asks crassly. “That would explain why you never come out anymore and what you have to do at home that’s more important than an afternoon with us.”

I smile at him because a couple of weeks ago, he would have been right with that guess. But the truth is I haven”t thought about Tara at all. Or any of my current hookups, like Christine one of our communications team members. She and I hooked up after the Quake Christmas party and again on a road trip a couple months ago. She texted me her room number because she came on this road trip too, but I didn”t do anything with the information. She”s sent me a couple of texts since and I”ve ignored them.

It”s not that I don”t need to fuck, because, Jesus, do I ever. It would likely help immensely with all the stress I”m carrying. But my mind doesn”t wander much from thinking of Dylan, and what”s best for him, and keeping things with Mallory on a good note. I don”t think bringing a strange woman over to fuck would help anything right now. And honestly, the only person I want to have sex with is Mallory.

I want it so bad I’m starting to have sex dreams about her. I mean, it’s not weird. Mallory’s gorgeous and we just had a brief but super-intense make-out session recently. Plus, that night we had together, as messed up as it was, was also hot.

Anyway, I don’t correct Crew’s assumption. It’s just easier if he thinks I’m involved with someone. Then he and everyone else will stop questioning me about my absence from things. “Remember the curfew boys. Have some extra spicy wings for me.”

I walk to my waiting Uber, which also confuses Crew and Nash because I always drive to the airport myself. Why wouldn’t I? “Lent the car to Ten this week.”

“I thought she was banned from driving your baby.”

Baby. Yeah, I have a new definition of that word and it doesn”t involve a vehicle. I shrug. ”She wore me down.”

”You”ll be lucky to get it back in one piece,” Nash jokes. He and my sister aren”t exactly the best of friends. He thinks she”s a loose cannon and she thinks he”s a wet blanket. Neither is wrong.

I laugh at his comment and get in the back of the Uber. I reconfirm he”s got the address of the clinic. It”s supposed to be this high-security place that the lawyer says all of Hollywood goes to for their really top-secret medical stuff. He swears no one will ever know I”m getting a DNA test done there.

I”m being ridiculous about the secrecy of this, but the fact is, when the news of Dylan”s existence breaks, I want to control the narrative. I haven”t exactly figured out what the back story will be but I feel like ”Tate Garrison only takes responsibility for son after the mother dies” shouldn”t be a part of the public history. No one will believe I didn”t know about him, but if they did that just makes Diana look bad. Headlines like ”Woman tried to hide baby from pro athlete after one-night stand” aren”t what I want the world to know either. Shit lives on the internet forever, and one day Dylan will be old enough to Google.

The DNA test is required to get my name on the birth certificate but no one needs to know about this. Once I”m legally named Dylan”s dad, I”m going to hire my own PR person, who will work in tandem with the team”s PR and we”ll spin it that I knew about Dylan but agreed to have him raised in London. This tragedy changed the plan and I gladly stepped in. Because that part is true. I am gladly taking responsibility for Dylan. Even if he still hates hanging out with me. I am never letting him go.

There’s not a ton of traffic, which is a miracle in L.A., and I feel a surge of excited anticipation as I get out of the Uber. The sun is shining, the sky is cloudless, and because we won both games on the road trip Coach says we don’t have practice until tomorrow afternoon. So my mind is on how I can bond with Dylan in my extra free time.

I’m thinking of maybe taking him to the park, with Mallory of course, and maybe we can all go out to dinner. If Mallory is still ticked off at me, then maybe she can have the day off and I can take Dylan. She can go explore L.A. or whatever she wants.

All these ideas are running through my brain and I’m feeling optimistic as I round the side of the building, where the private parking lot is located. I had texted Mal and asked her to meet me there, so we could walk in together. I didn’t want her to have to go in there and fill out the forms alone.

I turn the corner and see her standing by the passenger door of my Mercedes. She’s got three takeaway coffee cups from Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf in her hands.

But leaning against the driver”s side door, holding the car keys and my son, is my sister.

“Morning bro!” Tenley calls out like she’s Mary Freakin’ Poppins about to break into song or something. “Good to have you back home with your son. My nephew.”

It feels like the ground underneath my feet has turned to liquid. My blood pressure spikes. Tenley motions for me to keep walking because I’ve stopped. “Put your luggage in the trunk and we’ll have a chat as we head into the clinic.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Of course not,” she replies and my heart starts to beat in a normal rhythm again. “Now hurry up or you’ll be late.”

I start walking toward them again. My eyes slide over to Mallory. She holds out a coffee cup. “I didn’t tell her. I was ambushed.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” I mutter and drop my bags in the trunk as it opens. I hit the button for it to close on its own, ignoring the coffee Mallory is still holding out to me, and reach for my kid.

Tenley doesn’t look like she wants to give him up, but she does. I hold him up, high above my head. “Hey! How’s my boy?”

He wiggles his arms and legs and gurgles. Did he… smile? Maybe? A little. I think he smiled! I bring him back down and try plopping him onto my hip but he twists his chunky little torso and reaches for Tenley. Fucking Tenley! She’s known him, what? A day? Two?

I don’t let her take him. I just turn and start walking toward the medical building with him. Mallory drops into step on one side of me and Tenley starts to walk with us too, but I turn and say, “You don’t need to be here.”

“But yet, here I am.” Tenley shoots me that smile she’s had since she was born, the smug, I-give-zero-shits smile. ARGH.

Dylan continues to wiggle and pout. I stop walking and turn to Mallory. “Trade you coffee for kid?”

She nods, hands me the cup I ignored earlier, and a second one I pass off to Tenley, and then takes Dylan from me. I ignore Tenley as she follows behind us into the building. I walk up to reception. “I have an appointment with Bedard Labs.”

The woman types on a computer. “Identification please.”

I put my coffee down on the counter between us and pull my license from my wallet. Mallory is digging in her bag and pulls out her passport. The receptionist’s eyes move to Tenley. “She’s waiting down here.”

Tenley slaps her license on the counter next to mine and gives the woman a sugary smile. “I’ll be going up. I’m his emotional support animal.”

Mallory smiles. It”s small like she”s trying to hold it back.

“Don’t encourage her.”

“Sorry.” She bites back the smile even more.

“I’m going with you Tater Tot so stop wasting time arguing,” Tenley replies.

The woman behind the desk has already chosen to ignore us. She’s back typing on her keyboard and then there’s a buzzing sound and she starts handing us passes. “Fifteenth floor.”

I grab my coffee and pass and turn toward the bank of elevators. Tenley falls in step beside me, bumping her shoulder against mine. “Fifteen. Lucky number. This is a good omen.”

“Fifteen, like your jersey number,” Mallory says and I nod.

“He loves the number fifteen.”

“Why?” Mallory asks my sister, instead of me, as I punch the elevator button and the third one from the end opens with a ping.

“Because he needs to score fourteen short-handed goals to tie my dad but fifteen to beat him,” Tenley explains.

We all step into the elevator and I notice Mallory’s mouth has fallen open. “But you’ve had number fifteen on your jersey since you were in high school.”

“Since I was seven years old, actually,” I replied and hit the button for floor fifteen. “That’s when I realized my dad had the record. And that’s when I told myself I would beat it.”

“I had no idea that’s why it was your number,” Mallory whispers thoughtfully.

“Dyllie Bear is your number going to be sixteen?” Tenley asks Dylan and she tickles his belly through his little navy hoodie with white polar bears on it. He giggles and squeals and babbles something I think he thinks are words.

“He’s going to play hockey?” Mallory asks.

“Of course,” Tenley and I say in unison, in the exact same confident tone.

Mallory smiles. “I don’t know why I even asked.”

The elevator doors swish open and Tenley steps off before all of us. I quickly step off and block her from walking ahead of us. ”Can you please just take a back seat? You shouldn”t even be here.”

“It’s a good thing I am here,” Tenley replies as we walk down the hall. “Otherwise you were going to force a woman who just had a serious car accident onto the shitshow that is L.A. freeways.”

Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that when I asked Mallory to meet us here. Fuck. I’m a total shithead. I glance over at her but she looks away and fusses over Dylan. I turn back to my sister. “How did you find out?”

“I decided to use your house for my shoot despite you saying no.”

”Tenley, why can”t you, for once, stop trying to control everything?” I reply my voice hard.

“Stop being an asshole,” Tenley barks back. “I’m not controlling this. I’m just here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I needed you to mind your own business and not break into my house and find out about him before I was ready to tell you,” I hiss at her and then turn a corner and find yet another reception desk. This one is unmanned and just has a little sign that says to take a number from the dispenser on the counter and wait for it to pop up on the screen in the waiting room.

I yank off a number and move to the plastic seats across the hall in the glassed-in waiting room. There’s a little play area in one corner and I walk to the seats closest to it. Mallory immediately sits Dylan on the plush gray playmat in front of the toys.

“Okay then.” Tenley’s glare gets steely. “Then I’m here for Mallory. She’s been through it, Tate, and someone needs to watch out for her. This arrangement of yours isn’t making her life easier.”

Oh my God is Tenley really trying to pretend she gives a fuck about Mallory? She doesn’t even know her. Not really. Not like I do. She’s my… friend.

“Mallory loves Dylan like he’s her own and she’s here of her own free will,” I reply tersely and shift in my small, almost too small, plastic seat to glare at Tenley. “And in case you forgot, her last name is Echolls. You think that the family will be thrilled to know she’s the one who technically has custody at the moment? Or that her family will be thrilled she’s shacked up with me? No. That would make this whole situation more complicated so keeping Dylan on the down low right now isn’t just about me. It’s about her too.”

The room is silent when I finish my little rant. Mallory is watching me from her seat on the other side of Tenley with a look I can’t fully understand. She seems… shocked and maybe a little hurt. Fuck. Did I hurt her feelings again? Why am I such an idiot without even knowing it?

Before I can rectify the situation, the electronic board above our heads beeps, and our ticket number and a room number appear on the board. I get up. Mallory gets up and picks up Dylan. Tenley gets up and I put my hand on her bony shoulder and gently but firmly push her back down into her seat. ”You wait here.”

She twists her face up in this ugly, pouty frown. “Hold that pose. Forever. Then maybe my teammates will stop hitting on you.”

I turn and walk to the door, holding it open for Mallory who is carrying Dylan.