Page 44 of Beautiful Storm

I lift my gaze as the guys jog off the field toward the tunnel, and my stomach knots knowing what I have to do. But while I have an urgent need to get this secret off my chest, now’s not the time to talk to Luke. I know better than to throw a man off his game. No matter how much I dislike him, I’d never do that. No, it will have to wait.

But when did I go from hating Luke to merely disliking him?

Being the father of my child doesn’t automatically give him bonus points. All he did was treat me to mind-blowing sex—that I still dream about daily—and break the damn condom. It’s not—The condom?Webroke it. Not me,we. There’s a silver lining here. At least Luke can’t throw the blame completely my way. If he gets mad, I can remind him of that tiny yet important piece of information.

But what if he doesn’t get mad?

What if he ghosts me and refuses to acknowledge his child? Or worse, what if he has a family one day and our child gets left out, abandoned when they're old enough to understand what that means?

What if…Jesus, I’m spiraling.

I need to get this talk over with or God knows what kind of scenarios I’m going to conjure up.

As soon as the game is over, I have to talk to Luke. Let’s hope the team wins. I need him in a good mood.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Luke

We’re celebrating another win as we exit the locker rooms, ready for a big night out. Preseason is almost done, and as suspected, we are killing it. The confidence I have leading into the regular season should be illegal. But fuck, am I certain this is our year.

“See you there.” Reed waves over his shoulder as he beelines to the left while I head right, and I’ve just reached my truck when I remember Keeley asked to see me.Dammit.

Spinning around to rush back inside, I almost crash into Amelia where she stands behind me.

“Jesus.” I grab her shoulders to still her before dropping them quickly and stepping back. “What are you doing?”

“Can we talk?” she asks, barely reacting to me almost knocking into her, making my body tense, automatically going into fight mode.What did I do this time?

“I’m supposed to be meeting—”

“Please,” she rasps, making me pause.

“Okay, I have a minute.” I’ve barely spoken a word to her since finding out she has a husband—information I easily confirmed with the trusty Internet. They’ve been married for years. I saw a grainy clip of them on stage after he proposed at a music festival. The caption read “If this isn’t the most romantic proposal ever!!!!” Four exclamation marks.Four!

Amelia steps closer while my thoughts run rampant, and her eyes are wide like a deer. “Somewhere private.”

Ouch. Now I know I definitely did something wrong. But fuck if I know what. It could be anything. I sneeze and this woman hates me for it.

“Private as in one of the meeting rooms here at the stadium, or…”

“Not here.” She shakes her head.

Jesus. “Okay, what about my place? It’s not too far from here. But I have to chat with Keeley for a minute first.” Amelia’s eyes widen before she glances around, probably checking if someone overheard me. “I promise to be discreet, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll give you my address and we can meet there.”

“Oh, it’s not that… your place is great. Let me give you my number so you can text me the details.”

After putting her number into my phone, she walks away without another word, and my eyes follow her until she gets to her car. The second she’s out of sight it hits me. Someone found out about the fire. That has to be it, because what else could it be?

When I pull up at my house, Amelia’s sitting on my top step with her knees pulled up to her chest, waiting for me, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. A tightness works itsway into my chest. Whatever she wants to talk about is worse than I thought. And after working myself up on the drive over, I can’t wait any longer.

I rush past her, making her jump as I open the door.

“Come on in. Let’s get this over with,” I say as she stands, and I motion for her to walk in ahead of me.

Amelia gulps but nods as she heads inside, and I note that her outfit is back to the casual style I’m used to. Effortless. Easy. Something you wear when you’ve got more pressing things on your mind. Kind of like when I throw on a hoodie or sweats. Although I’ve been told I still look hot dressed like that. It’s a blessing.

I lead Amelia into the living room and sit while she remains standing. A beat passes before she starts pacing the floor, wearing a hole in my ridiculously expensive rug.

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