Page 7 of A Stag Family Christmas

"Well, Ty," she says, grinning, "I feel like shit. But I appreciate you making a pit stop for little old me. Tell me what's going on out there." Emma gestures toward the waiting room while Nicole chugs coffee and taps her foot.

Ty smiles one of his devilish grins. "Did you see Juniper got a tattoo?" Emma nods. "It's fucking hot. You should get one, too." He winks at Emma. "When you're done being pregnant, obviously."

Fuck.I feel Emma stiffen. Her eyes widen and her voice seeps out in a whisper. "What?"

"Ah shit. Did I screw up?" Ty stands up, his joints popping, as Nicole swats him in the stomach.

"Get the fuck out of here and go win a hockey game, Tyrion," she says, capturing my sentiments. "Listen, Ems." Nicole sits on the bed and squeezes Emma's hand. "Dr. Khalsa thinks you had a seizure because your body is adjusting to rapidly shifting hormones."

"What are you talking about? Thatcher, what the hell do you guys know?"

Nicole raises her eyebrows. I sigh. "Emma, babe." I rub her shoulder and meet her eyes. Her pupils are tiny and I can tell she's terrified. "They did a bunch of tests when you came in, just to rule stuff out. One of them was a pregnancy test, sweetheart. And it was positive."

She starts shaking her head. "Nope. No. I'm on the pill." She looks at Nicole. "I always take my meds. I never miss my meds! I don't fucking drink. I set timers. I have little pill trays all sectioned out."

"Dr. Khalsa was saying that antibiotic you were on a little while ago might have made your birth control pills ineffective," I tell her. I'm not sure how I feel about how upset she seems, but then again, I'd be pissed too if people had conversations about me while I was passed out.

"Thatcher," she looks up at me. "That was 2 months ago." I nod. "So I'm 2 months pregnant? That's like…really pregnant…"

I weave my fingers through hers and raise her hand to kiss it gently. By this time, Ty has left but Tim and Alice have wandered back in along with Nicole, so the room is really fucking crowded when Dr. Khalsa pops his head in with a thin woman in scrubs. "Ah! Emma! I heard you were up," he says. "This is Dr. Elizabeth Hudson, one of our high-risk obstetricians."

Emma's eyes shoot around the room, flitting between all the doctors and Stags and Nicole. Dr. Hudson shakes Emma's hand and pulls a small machine out of her pocket. "Emma, if Dr. Khalsa's theory about your pregnancy is accurate, you should be far enough along that I could pick up a heartbeat on this device. If you could raise your gown we could check things out, make sure everything is ok with Baby."

Emma shakes her head, and I frown. I move to help her raise her gown but she swats my hand out of the way. "I'm not doing that," she says.

"Chezz," I start, sliding off the edge of the bed. "Come on. We have to see if the baby is ok after your seizure. I'm fucking dying here not knowing."

Emma meets my eye and I see a fury unlike she's shown me for a long time. She grits her teeth and says, through a locked jaw, "It doesn't matter if it's fine because I'm not going to stay pregnant."

7

TY

I played one hell of a game tonight. God, it feels good to sink a goal right through the five-hole, take the goalie off guard and watch that signal light up when the puck hits the net. My teammates pound me on the shoulder as we all walk back to the locker room afterward, and I wonder why the fuck I'm not feeling more excited.

We haven't lost a game yet, which I know isn't saying much because it's barely November, but I should be on a huge high after scoring and maintaining our streak. Some members of the press stop me in the hall on my way to the locker room. The reporter seems comically short standing on the ground next to me in my skates, but it's their choice not to wait for me until I've showered.

"Ty, how's it feel to score your 250th goal for the NHL?"

"Was tonight 250? I seriously hadn't been keeping track. I've just been loving playing for the Fury and as you know, I've got a great group of guys out there with me." It's weird that I didn't realize I was close to that milestone. This is my tenth year of pro hockey. I signed right out of high school. Shit, I'm getting old. The reporter is blinking at me and I realize I missed a question. "I'm sorry. I'm still letting it sink in that I shot 250 goals. Could you repeat the question?" I flash my two-dimple smile and I know they'll forgive anything.

"Sure thing, Ty. We asked what you think about the election. Your wife running for judge?"

"Aw man, my wife is going to be an amazing judge! She's a ferocious lawyer and loves defending the underdog in court. It just so happens we have an off day on Election Day, so I'll be thrilled to stand by her side while the numbers come in."

The reporter looks at me confused. "You're not worried her career will get in the way of your playoff hopes?"

Now it's my turn to be confused. "How so? You know we made it to the quarterfinals the year my wife took Olympic gold in rowing, right?” The reporter starts to make some comment, but I cut them off. “Listen. Juniper Jones is a force of nature. I'm so fucking proud of her. We push each other. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go shower."

I hate these interviews. What do they want me to say? That I'd rather have some puck bunny who lives for my career and follows me everywhere? Honestly, I've had my share of those women. Juniper is my soul mate. I don't give a shit if that sounds cheesy. I felt a connection with her that first minute we met. I don’t need her doting on me. I just need her to be herself.

I hurry through the showers and find a quiet room to call home. Shit's been insane with my family and I haven't been in Pittsburgh at all to help with any of it. My brother Tim is losing his mind at Juniper leaving the firm and Thatcher is freaking the fuck out because Emma says she doesn't want to keep the baby. Something about pregnancy being too high risk with her epilepsy.

I don't know what to say to any of them. All I know is when I call Juniper, she can tell me about her campaign stuff and I can pretend I understand what she's talking about, and remind her that she's got my vote. Always.

I look at the time as the phone rings and rings. Juniper isn't picking up. It's not that late. We put away that game in under 3 hours. "Hello?" She finally answers, and I can tell I woke her up.

"Aw, JJ, I'm sorry. Were you asleep?"

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