Page 156 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

The team is still swarming around me, celebrating, shouting, patting my back, but it all feels distant, muffled, like I’m underwater. I can’t look away from her. From the sign. From the sheer seriousness etched across her face.

“Gio, you good?” one of my teammates asks, smacking me on the back of the helmet.

“Yeah, I…” My voice trails off as I glance at him, then back at the stands. “I need a second.”

I skate toward the boards, my legs heavy, my heart pounding in my chest. Austin doesn’t move. She stands there, gripping the sign like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. Nova looks as if she’s trying not to laugh, arms crossed as she stands next to Austin like a mama bear.

Daring me to skate away.

Clearly, she knew about this.

When I reach them, Austin’s eyes meet mine—I can see the fear hidden behind her usual self-assurance.

I unhook my helmet, pulling it up so she can see my face. “Austin,” I breathe. “Is this for real?”

I know she can’t hear the words coming out of my mouth, but I’m certain she can understand me.

She nods.

Yes.

The air feels like it’s been knocked out of me. My grip tightens on the boards as I try to steady myself, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might explode. She doesn’t break eye contact, her usual confidence flickering just beneath the surface of her fear.

Nova leans toward her, muttering something I can’t hear, and Austin’s grip on the sign falters before she clutches it tighter.

I AM PREGNANT.

Bold. Bright.

Not a joke…

PREGNANT.

Holy shit.

I can’t get to her.

Can’t do anything.

My brain is short-circuiting, the enormity of her words crashing over me like a wave. But my body knows what it needs to do, even if my head doesn’t. My glove goes up, instinctive, pressing against the plexiglass between us.

Austin’s eyes soften, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the noise, the crowd, the game, even Nova’s soft smile.

It’s just us.

Her hand hesitates, then rises to meet mine on the other side of the glass.

I want to say something, to do something, but all I can manage is a single word that barely escapes my lips: “Okay.”

She nods, understanding more than my voice can convey.

We’re okay.

The moment is over in a nanosecond.

My teammates are already skating toward the center of the ice, the coach shouting something about sportsmanship from the bench.I know I have to go.

If I don’t, I’ll catch hell for it later.

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