Page 16 of The Forever Play

“I’ll pull out before I pop, okay?” I’d barely managed the words. “Or do you want me to suit up?”

She hadn’t. She’d shaken her head and whispered, “It’s okay. I trust you.”

And I had been trustworthy. I hadn’t given in to temptation and exploded inside her the way I’d wanted to. I’d forced myself to pull out, to jerk and come all over her perfect stomach. She’d watched me the whole time, her gaze so strong and sure, drenched in adoration. I had to kiss her lips after that. I had to hold her close and not let go.

She spent the entire night in my arms.

And I had no idea one of my swimmers had been left behind.

Fuck. I thought pulling out was a safe method.

One you’ve never used with any other girl.

All my escapades in college have been all about the condoms and safe sex. There’s been something almost robotic and mechanical about every one of my one-night stands.

I’ve never lost myself with a girl the way I lost myself in Sienna. She fried my brain, made it that much harder to think about protection when our bodies were doing all the thinking for us. There wasn’t logical thought when it came to physical stuff with her. There was only harmony and passion.

Fuck.

I scrape my hand through my hair, reeling at this bombshell that’s exploded in my face.

Why didn’t she tell me?

If I am the father, why the fuck didn’t she tell me!

That’s the only thing that’s making me doubt Zoey is mine. Because Sienna wouldn’t keep something like that from me. It wouldn’t matter how hurt she was over the breakup; there’s no way she wouldn’t have told me I was going to be a dad.

So maybe Zoey’s not mine.

Maybe trying to find out will only unearth a shit ton of complications and drama.

But I have to find her.

And I have to see Zoey one more time… to know for sure.

The fact that she looks just like Monica did is a fucking obvious omen, isn’t it?

She’s yours. You know she’s yours.

But I need that shit confirmed.

Clenching my jaw, I keep staring at my half-eaten lunch, the world only coming back into focus when I hear Wily behind me.

“Well, that sucks.”

I blink and look over my shoulder. Wily’s talking to two of his high school buddies. Ethan Galloway and Liam something. I can’t remember. It starts with a C, I think.

Anyway, they’re hockey boys and seniors this year, just like Wily and me.

Ethan senses my stare and raises his chin in acknowledgment before rounding up his conversation. “We don’t get a say in who coaches us, I guess.”

“At least he’s only an assistant coach.” Liam sighs. “Although he keeps acting like he’s the boss.”

“The guy’s a fuckwit.” Casey Pierce glides past, chipping in his two cents as he heads to the hockey table. “I’m just saying it because I know you two pansy-asses don’t want to publicly trash-talk the guy, but it’s the truth!”

Ethan snickers and shakes his head, then mutters, “It’s kind of the truth. He acts more like a drill sergeant than a coach.”

“Dude. It’s always hard adjusting,” Wily says. “I know when Coach Jones started, I kinda hated on the guy.”

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