Page 76 of The Goal

“You do whatever you need to,” I whisper into her hair. “I’ve got you.”

It’s all I feel like I can say at this point, and I know it’s not enough.

19

TUCKER

Ialways thought that if I knocked someone up, I’d be able to talk to my friends about it. But I’ve known for nearly a week that my girlfriend is pregnant, and I haven’t said a single word to anyone.

Actually, no one even knows Ihavea girlfriend.

For that matter, neither do I.

Ever since Sabrina peed on three sticks and got three positive results, she’s been avoiding seeing me in person. We’ve texted every day, but she insists she’s too busy to meet up because she wants to get a leg up on the new semester. I’ve been trying to give her the space she clearly needs, but my patience is running thin.

We need to sit down and discuss this. I mean, we’re talking about a possible baby. Ababy. Jesus. I’m freaking out here. I’m the guy who’s unshakable, the guy who can take any lickin’ and keep on tickin’, but the only thing ticking right now is my heart—at double time.

I don’t know how the hell to handle this. Sabrina said she couldn’t have a kid, and I plan to support whatever she decides, but I want her to include me, damn it. It rips me apart to think of her going through this alone.

Sheneedsme.

“You making something to eat or just staring at the stove for funsies?”

Garrett’s voice draws me out of my misery. My roommate strolls into the kitchen with Logan on his tail. Both guys make a beeline for the fridge.

“Seriously,” Logan gripes as he peers into the refrigerator. “Feed us, Tuck. There’s nothing edible here.”

Yeah, I haven’t shopped for groceries all week. And when you live in a house full of hockey players, skipping out on the shopping is bad news.

I stare at the empty pot I’d placed on the burner. I didn’t have a menu in mind when I wandered into the kitchen, and with the sad assortment of ingredients we have on hand, there’s not much I can work with.

“I guess I’ll make some pasta,” I say glumly. Carbs at this hour isn’t the smartest idea, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Thanks, Mom.”

I cringe at that word.Mom. He might as well have saidDad. As in, I might be a fucking dad.

I draw a calming breath and fill the pot with water.

Logan beams at me. “Don’t forget to put on your apron.”

I give him the finger on my way to the pantry. “One of you lazy asses make yourself useful and chop some onions,” I mutter.

“On it,” Garrett says.

Logan flops down at the kitchen table and watches us like a jerk as we prepare a late dinner. “Make enough for five,” he tells us. “Dean’s working one-on-one with Hunter tonight. The kid might come back here with him.”

Garrett glances at me in amusement. “Nah, I think we’ll only make enough for four—right, Tuck? If Hunter’s here, he can take Logan’s spot.”

“Awesome idea.”

Our roommate rolls his eyes. “I’ll tell Coach you’re trying to starve me.”

“You do that,” Garrett says graciously.

While I wait for the water to boil, I scrounge around in the crisper for anything green. I find one pepper and two carrots. Whatever. Might as well chop ’em and throw ’em in the sauce.

We chat about nothing in particular as we prepare dinner. Or rather, they chat. I’m too busy internally freaking out about Sabrina. I guess that’s a testament to my acting skills, because my roommates don’t seem to notice that anything is out of the ordinary.

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