The Bad Boy Hockey Collection: A Collection Of Single Daddy Romances

I smirk as I glance up at her. She made a reference to Jackson, finally. “Yes, I suppose that counts, too. But I was referring to sitting here, being the guy that’s going after sole custody of my son.”

The surprise on her face would be amusing if the subject wasn’t so serious. “You’re filing for custody of...your son?”

“Mr. Barrett didn’t give you anything to go on, did he?” I say wryly. I unfold the paper in my hands and slide it across the table.

“I didn’t know this was a marital issue—”

“It isn’t,” I correct her quickly. “We aren’t married. Never were. And you’ll see from that handwritten letter that my ex has signed her own little affidavit admitting she desires no further rights to my little man. This should be pretty cut and dry.”

She stares down at the letter in her hands, reading the words of a woman who has given birth to a beautiful baby boy and has chosen to relinquish her rights to him because she has no need for him, no inclination towards being his mother, and no desire to be attached to the boy or his father in any serious capacity.

“Brody,” she says slowly, her eyes still transfixed on the paper. I look up to meet her eyes and see only shock reflecting back in them. “Brody, I’m sorry.”

My jaw clenches, but I reposition myself in the chair, avoiding her gaze for a moment. I don’t want or need her sympathy, but there’s a part of me that appreciates it, nonetheless, knowing how she feels about me and certain members of my family. “You and me both,” I admit. “Charlotte and I were already apart when she found out she was pregnant, and I knew even before then that she and I would never last forever. We just weren’t compatible, and I’m okay with that.” I swallow, giving myself a moment to rein in the edge in my voice. “But I think the thing that hurts me the most is that I don’t even have to fight for Spencer. Because she doesn’t want him. I’m fine with the fact she didn’t want me, Corinne, but how could she not want her own son? My son?”

The confession pours out of me. I didn’t expect to come in here and get emotional, but there it is, the anger that holds me together like glue and keeps me pushing forward in the name of the boy who deserves the best that I can offer him.

“I...I can’t imagine,” she says quietly.

“Again, you and me both.” The tension hangs between us in the silence that ensues, and I don’t attempt to apologize for my unexpected outburst. Somehow, doing that would only make it more awkward. At least now she has a reason to see that I’m not some monster here to make her life harder. I’m not Jackson. And my purpose for being in this room is for one reason only.

Spencer.

“Let’s do this, Corinne.” My voice cuts through the quietness, making her head snap up from the piece of paper still held loosely in her fingers. “Whatever you need from me, I’ll give it to you. Just help me do what’s best for my son.”

She swallows visibly, then nods with a renewed effort. “That’s what I’m here for.”

***

We make short work of the written statement, and once Corinne prints it out and I read it over, I sign it without a second thought.

“So, with my side of things in writing, coupled with Charlotte’s handwritten note stating she wants nothing more to do with Spencer or me, I should be in pretty good standing when it comes to the courts, right?”

Corinne is shutting down the computer, and she pushes her chair away from it, turning to fix her gaze on mine. “I’m not really at liberty to make statements regarding open cases, Brody. I’m just the assistant.”

“I get it, no problem. You’ve definitely assisted me today, so thank you for that. Spencer would thank you, too, if he could talk.”

She smiles, tilting her head slightly. “Okay, okay. C’mon, show me the sixty gazillion baby photos you’ve got of him on your phone. You know you want to.”

For the first time in well over an hour, I smile. At the mention of Spencer’s pictures, and because she mentioned them first. “You have no idea the can of worms you’ve just opened.” I pull my phone from the back pocket of my dark-wash jeans, producing a long line of photos of my little man, one after the other in a variety of different poses and outfits, all boasting phrases such as Daddy’s Little Boy and Just Like Daddy. I pass the phone to Corinne, unable to suppress my grin.

She scrolls through them, leaned back in her chair, a series of “Aww!” and “How adorable is that?” comments falling from her lips as she sifts through the pictures. “You have every right to be such a proud daddy,” she says with a grin, handing the phone back to me. “He’s absolutely precious, Brody.”

“Proud is an understatement. Spence is my world.” I pull the phone from her hands, letting my long fingers graze against hers before I stand up. “Speaking of him, I should be getting back to him. My mom’s been babysitting for me while I’m here.”

I don’t miss the way Corinne flinches at my touch. The contact felt scorching in comparison to the frigid way she had been with me when I first arrived. She felt the heat, too, and a wave of satisfaction engulfs me at having caught her off guard.

I can see it in her wide eyes; she doesn’t want to believe it, but I keep offering her up reminders that I’m nothing like Jackson. That’s hard for her to admit to herself, though, and the war

behind her eyes is just as electric as the contact of our skin.

“Of course,” she says, a bit flustered. “I’ll go over these documents with Mr. Barrett when he gets back from the courthouse, then he’ll be in contact with you to make further arrangements.”

“Perfect.” I pull a business card from my wallet. I might be a hockey player, but I used to do some cabinetry work on the side before Spencer was born, a personal favorite hobby of mine. I pass the card to her.

“Oh, no, that’s not needed.” She holds up her hands to push the card away. “Mr. Barrett already has your number, Brody. He can—”

“Corinne,” I interject, amused by her rambling. “The card’s not for Barrett. It’s for you.”