Page 17 of Homebound

“She’s only said two coherent words, Wyatt,” she says. “So, if she’s repeating the word fuck, it’ll probably sound like fuh.”

Stella Anderson scrubbed my mouth out with soap when I forgot to say “yes, ma’am,” but she’s got no problem cursing more than a frustrated parent. Maybe that’s why she fell in love with a crass hockey coach from up north.

Jessie’s my Northern mom, but Stella’s my Southern mama. That’s what I call them—mom and mama. My mama’s got the same blond hair and green eyes as me since I’m hers biologically, thanks to a generous sperm donor, but while I didn’t get my mom’s brown hair and brown eyes, I got all my hockey skills from Jessie Patton. They combined their two last names—Patton and Anderson—when they got married to form Patterson.

As an NHL player in Nashville, I might’ve only spent my summers in Texas, but my mama was raised in Granite Falls, so I consider myself a Southern gentleman since I was raised by a true Texan. Her sister’s family even owns the old dive bar in town—The General.

My mom sprays some sunflowers. “So, how’ve things with Kodie been? Was she okay with you moving in?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell what she’s thinking anymore,” I say, slathering more sunscreen on Vi’s face. “I almost wish she’d yell at me for leaving, but it’s like she doesn’t even care that I’m back.”

“Give her time,” my mama says. “She’ll come around. She’s always—”

Gravel crunches and Dakota’s 1971 pale-blue Ford Bronco pulls up to the barn, cutting off our conversation. I still remember the summer she spent covered in grease, fixing up Daisy Blue, as she calls it, with her dad.

She steps out of Daisy Blue wearing nothing but a sports bra and tiny shorts that hug her athletic frame. The late afternoon sun catches the sheen of sweat on her skin, highlighting every curve and muscle. She’s clearly getting back from training, and goddamn, she looks good sweaty.

“Kodie Cutler! Get over here, and come say hello to your favorite neighbors!” Mama shouts, waving her arm around with a giant smile.

Dakota struts through the field of yellow flowers and wraps both my moms in a warm bear hug. “Holy shit, it’s been too long! My goodness, I’ve missed y’all. How the hell are you?”

Her face lights up with a dimpled grin, and I can’t help the pang that hits me. I want that smile directed at me.

She releases them from her vice hug and scans my face with a frown, but then her eyes slide to Vienna, and she gives her a small grin. “Hey, girl. You’re looking mighty cute in that pink bucket hat.”

“Mo!” Vi giggles, thrashing in her stroller like she’s trying to get to Dakota, which isn’t all that surprising.

She is my girl after all.

A dimple flickers in her cheek. “I don’t have any more hats, but I’ll see what I can do for you. You’re pretty hard to say no to. Just like your daddy.”

Fuck.

I like hearing her call me daddy.

“Dada!” Vienna suddenly squeals, repeating her.

That dampens the heat in my body. I’m constantly swinging between man and dad so much that I get dizzy. She squirms in her shaded stroller. Her high-pitched laughter fills the space between us, and it’s the best sound in the world.

“Yes, ma’am?” I coo. Her cheeks are a little flushed from the heat, but I’ve got those attachable fans pointed at her face.

She claps her tiny hands. “Dada! Dada!”

I kiss her cheek. She wants some attention. “Yes ma’am, that’s me, baby. Your daddy, and I love you very much.”

I thought I knew what love was, but when I had a child, my entire definition expanded. No matter how wiped out I am, I can’t help but crack a smile when I look down at my little girl.

My mom nods down to Vienna’s T-shirt that reads Long Live Cowgirls. “I’m surprised she hasn’t had a meltdown yet. She’s doing pretty well for being in a whole different routine.”

“She’s always happy when she’s with her daddy.” I pick her up, nuzzling her face in a way I know makes her laugh. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

“That she is,” she agrees. “Goodness, she’s getting so big.”

“I hear kids grow up pretty fast,” Dakota adds.

“They do,” I agree, latching on to any shred of conversation she’s willing to throw my way. “I still remember the day I took Vi home from the hospital. She was so tiny. Five pounds, eight ounces. I remember being terrified that I’d trip and drop her.”

Mama slaps her knee. “I forgot about that! Oh my goodness, when it was time to put her in the car seat, it took you over thirty minutes to figure out the seat belt puzzle, and then you crept down the highway at twenty miles under the speed limit. Don’t you remember that, Jessie?”