Page 79 of Wrong Score

I glance at him, then at the small line forming nearby, true fans who’ve been waiting with jerseys and memorabilia of their own.

Maybe he plans to sell it, or give it away, I have no idea. I doubt he plans to display it on the wall in his office, or godforbid, wear it, but there are too many witnesses to blow him off like I would like to.

“Right, didn’t realize you were such a fan,” I say, barely able to contain the sarcasm in my voice.

His gaze shifts to Rowan, standing beside me, her hand resting protectively on her belly. His eyes glide over the old jersey she’s wearing. Drew’s brows furrow, clearly surprised.

“You’re still on this side of the media line, Rowan?” He smirks, arching a brow. “They know you’re not withThe Seattle Sunriseanymore, right?”

His attempt to insinuate that Rowan doesn’t belong here doesn’t sit well with me, and I pull Rowan in closer, wrapping my arm protectively around her waist. “She’s not here to work, Drew. She’s here so our baby can have a front-row seat to watch the Hawkeyes win the Stanley Cup.”

I catch his shocked expression as he glances between us, his mouth hanging open. “Your baby?” His voice wavers, and I can see him trying to process what I just said.

I reach for a marker, ready to add my autograph to Rowan’s jersey in the most obvious spot I can think of. Rowan’s eyes widen, her hand catching my wrist, a quiet question in her gaze.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her face flush with surprise. “You don’t like people knowing your personal business.”

“That doesn’t apply when it comes to you,” I say, giving her a soft smile. “I want everyone to know the baby you’re carrying is mine and that you’re coming home to me every night.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

A smile blooms across her face as she nods, her hand releasing mine. I bend down, resting one hand on her belly, my thumb brushing the fabric over our growing baby as I sign my name right across her belly. I want everyone to see that Rowan, and the life we’re building, is more important than any title or career milestone.

As I straighten, Drew stammers, glancing from Rowan to me. “Wait—you’re pregnant?” His voice is thick with disbelief.

Rowan glances at me, a beautiful, proud smile on her face. “Sixteen weeks,” she says, glowing with happiness.

Drew’s jaw practically hits the floor, his gaze darting to her stomach as he stumbles over his words. “But… I thought… the doctors said…”

I pull Rowan closer to my side. "It's not your fault, Mate. Your shit isn't top-grade baby batter. Don't beat yourself up about it. She had to bring in the ringer."

Rowan chuckles, leaning into me, and I feel her hand slide down my back, an unspoken message of thanks. It’s clear now, in this moment, that we’re moving forward, leaving the past behind and starting fresh with the family we’re building.

I dip down, planting a kiss on her belly for good measure. Rowan’s hand slips to the back of my head, her fingers warm and gentle as I press a kiss against the fabric covering our child. I love how she finds little ways to reassure me, to remind me that we’re in this together, no matter what.

Drew stands there, floundering, unable to mask his shock. But his reaction is irrelevant now. As I straighten, there’s a sparkle in Rowan’s eyes for me.

She doesn’t need words to tell me what I already know. This moment is ours, and together, we’re unstoppable.

Epilogue

Five Months Later

Bex

I stare down at the baby in my arms, wrapped in a pink blanket, and fast asleep in only a diaper, laying against my bare chest as I rock her in the corner of the hospital room.

Skin-to-skin, the nurse called it. A way to bond with the baby. I didn’t need convincing—this little girl already has me wrapped tightly around her finger. Her heartbeat is steady against mine, and I marvel at how something so small can fill every corner of a space I didn’t even know was empty.

She’s only six hours old, but she’s already taken over my world.

I shift slightly in the rocking chair, careful not to disturb her. She doesn’t even stir, her little body warm against mine, her soft breath rising and falling in perfect rhythm.

It’s hard to imagine something so perfect and innocent came from what happened in the back of a limo.

Everything about her is so tiny—her fingers, toes, the little wisps of dark hair like mine currently hidden under her yellow infant beanie. I’m told that her hair might all fall out and new hair will grow. There’s no saying what part of her will look like me or which parts she’ll take after Rowan. If I had my choice, she’d look just like Rowan. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and that smile—the one that’s been the undoing of me since the moment I first saw it.

God, that smile.

The memory makes me chuckle softly, careful not to wake the baby. For nine months, that smile had me doing things I never thought I’d do. Midnight runs to the grocery store for ice cream and popcorn, assembling cribs and rocking chairs with instructions that might as well have been written in a lost language, and countless foot rubs because “the baby” demanded them.

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