Page 62 of Huge Pucking Play

I rise on unsteady legs and somehow make it to the door.

"And Ms. Lockhart?" Her voice stops me with my hand on the doorknob. "I'd advise you to make the right choice. Men like Coach Hughes move on. Careers, once damaged, rarely recover."

I step out without responding, the door clicking shut behind me.

I make it halfway down the hallway before my legs start to shake. I need somewhere quiet, somewhere private. I slip inside the supply closet, flick on the light, and lean against shelves stacked with therapy bands and foam rollers. My breath comesin shallow gasps. I couldn't defend myself because, deep down, I knew every word Marjorie said was true.

Every. Damn. Word.

My phone buzzes in my pocket—probably Garrett, checking in like he does most days around this time. I can't look at it. Can't think straight.

End it or lose everything I've worked for.

My career. My independence. The validation that I made it here on merit, not connections or luck. Years of student debt for a degree I might never use again if word gets out I was fired for ethical violations.

But also: Garrett. The baby. A future I never planned but suddenly can't imagine giving up.

My fingers press firmly against my abdomen. As if I could somehow protect this tiny secret from the impossible choice ahead. Is Marjorie right? Would Garrett eventually move on while my career lies in tatters? Or would giving him up—giving us up—leave a wound that never heals?

I need to talk to Sophie. She navigated the complicated terrain of dating someone who’s part of the team. She married Evan despite the challenges of his hockey schedule and her journalism career.

I pull out my phone, ignoring the message from Garrett for now.

Me: Lunch today? Need to talk. It's important.

Sophie's reply comes seconds later.

Sophie: Antonelli's at 12:30? Everything ok?

Me: Not really. Will explain in person.

I push the door open. I have two more sessions before lunch. Somehow, I need to keep it together. Pretend everything is normal. Act like my entire life isn't balanced on the edge of a cliff.

The hallway light is too bright. Everything seems slightly off-kilter, like I'm moving through a world that has subtly shifted while I wasn't looking.

One foot in front of the other. That's all I can manage right now.

Antonelli's is packed with the lunch crowd, but somehow Sophie snagged us a corner booth. I spot her the moment I walk in—she's practically glowing, her honeymoon tan setting off the white cardigan she's wearing. She waves with that infectious enthusiasm that's pure Sophie, and for a second, I consider turning around and walking out. How can I dump my mess on her when she's so happy? But she's already seen me, and honestly, I might shatter if I don't tell someone everything.

"Cyn!" She jumps up to hug me, her arms wrapping tight around my shoulders. "God, I've missed you!"

I hug her back, holding on a beat too long. When we separate, her smile falters.

"You look terrible," she says, dropping back into the booth. "And I mean that with love."

"Thanks. It’s been a rough week." I slide in across from her, grabbing a menu. "How was Antigua?"

"Magical." Her eyes light up. "Blue water, white sand, swim-up bar with these rum punches that knocked Evan on his ass by two every afternoon." She laughs, then reaches across the table to take my hand. "But clearly something's wrong, and I'm guessing it's not my vacation stories you need right now."

The waitress appears, and I order an iced tea. Sophie asks for a sparkling water. When we're alone again, she leans forward.

"Spill it."

I take a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

Her eyes widen, mouth forming a perfect O. "Oh my God," she whispers. "Garrett's?"

I nod, feeling the first tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "Found out last week. Told him last week."

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