Page 87 of Pucked and Pregnant

Connor stays suspiciously silent.

“Liv and I are going to meet up after she’s done working to talk about a bodyguard, and a few other adjustments to her routine,” Max says. “In the meantime, you guys probably need to be extra careful about being seen with her.”

I nod mechanically, staring at the hateful articles that nearly every gossip rag is sharing about her and us. I feel slightly ill thinking about what this kind of bad press could do to her career. It’s not ideal for us, either, but we’re hockey players. We’re practically expected to do inappropriate things. A female media personality is held to unrealistic standards, and she could easily be fired for these pictures.

As I file out of the women’s restroom after my friends, I wonder why I feel like there’s more to all of this than meets the eye. I keep feeling like there’s something that I’m missing, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

One thing I know for sure is that we need to figure out what we are doing about this situationship that we are all in, before someone gets hurt.

25

LIV

Can you come around to the back and get me? The media is everywhere today.

I send my brother a text as I peer around the corner near the back door of the rink.

I can see a gaggle of reporters looking in the glass doors eagerly, pushing and jostling for position, and frustration coils in my gut. Maybe if my brother shields me, I will be able to get past them, and out of this building.

I’ll be right there.

I sigh and lean back against the wall, trying to collect myself. I still don’t feel great, but at least I haven’t had any more bouts of embarrassing nausea to deal with. I think about earlier, being cornered in the bathroom with all of my men, trying to hide the truth from them. I feel so bad.

It’s getting harder and harder to hide this from them. I can’t imagine a reality where I can tell them about the baby right now, though. It will threaten their chances at the playoffs, and I want them to be recognized for their talents, not our drama.

I try to imagine what it would be like if I were to reveal to everyone that I’m pregnant. There would be so many questionsabout who the father is, and all this nonsense with the pictures of the boys leaving my place would be brought back up. The media would put together a scandal in an instant.

I grimace and close my eyes. I don’t want to do that to them. I knew this was a bad idea. I just knew that we should have kept all of this in the past, where it belonged.

I think about the packet of birth control pills in the drawer in my bathroom. Why hadn’t they kept me safe? Had I really been that off in my timing when I was taking them? I feel so betrayed by the security net that I thought was firmly in place to protect all of us from this kind of mistake.

But is it a mistake? I press a hand to my belly and smile softly. When I think about having a baby, it doesn’t feel like a mistake, despite the poor timing. I always wanted kids. Not planning on having them right now and being uncertain about who the father is never played into that but hey, here we are.

“You’re not a mistake,” I whisper to the tiny life inside of me. “I will never let you think that.”

“You ready to brave the press?”

I glance up to see Max striding toward me, his bag of gear slung over one shoulder. He looks tall and confident, prepared to protect his sister against any kind of threat.

I smile at him warmly. I’m so glad that my brother and I are close. I’m worried that telling him the truth about what has been going on behind his back will cause him to be incredibly hurt, but at least I know that he and I have always been able to work through any adversity. He will recover, I hope.

“Yeah. Thanks for coming to help me out,” I say with a tired sigh.

“That’s what big brothers do for little sisters,” he says, slinging an arm over my shoulder as we start to walk toward the door.

“You’rebarelyolder than me,” I remind him as he pushes the door open.

“Yes but I’m bigger and stronger,” he reminds me as the press pushes forward with mics and questions.

“Are you having a fling with multiple members of the team?” one of them shouts out.

“There are rumors about your friends coming and going from your sister’s apartment. How do you feel about that, Max?” another reporter calls.

I feel Max’s arm stiffen on my shoulders. He grits his teeth and increases our pace.

“You’ve been struggling with health issues on and off,” another reporter yells out. “Are you pregnant?”

This time, I go rigid, then lean myself against him, grateful for his support as we hustle toward his car.

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