Page 71 of Slap Shot Daddies

The thoughts bring me to shuddering sobs.

They’d all raise their hands in surrender, back away, deciding I wasn’t worth the trouble any longer, I’m sure of it.

Tears blind my vision, hot and unwelcome.

I clutch my stomach, whispering softly, “I want you…but I’m so scared. So scared they won’t…”

The exhaustion finally wins, pulling me under like a gentle tide.

I curl into the couch, blanket pulled tight around me like a cocoon.

The room blurs as I drift into uneasy sleep, my hand still resting protectively over my belly.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Reggie

It’s been days now,and I’m struggling not to let worry consume me, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult.

Kenzie hasn’t shown up at the rink, hasn’t replied to any of our messages in theKenzie’s Entouragegroup chat.

Every time I check my phone, nothing. Just our own nervous chatter, skirting around the fact that none of us have a clue about what’s happening with her.

Braden suggested we put together a care package for her, brimming with ginger ale, crackers, and the little electrolyte pops he swears by.

Ambrose seemed somewhat agreeable, but Ally quickly shut us down. She told us to back off, explaining that Kenzie had a stomach bug and needed rest, not us hovering over her like needy puppies.

I understand. We’re a lot to handle, three guys all fussing over one woman.

It must feel overwhelming at times.

But this silence? It’s unbearable.

It gnaws at me, right in the chest, like a persistent ache.

I can’t just sit around waiting for Monday. I need to see her.

I slip on my jacket, the cool leather a comforting familiarity under my fingers, and grab my keys. The frosty air outside is sharp and crisp, and my teeth chatter as I start the car.

I head toward Feather & Fur Veterinary Clinic, hoping that perhaps I might catch a glimpse of her.

Or at least find some peace of mind.

But deep down a nagging feeling tells me that she must be really sick.

The little brass bell hanging above the door jingles merrily as I step into the clinic, its sound crisp and clear against the quiet of the space. The air inside reminds me of the musk of animal bedding, and the sharp tang of wet dog.

It's a familiar scent, one that evokes memories of working on Scottish farms.

A woman sits at the front desk, her head lifting as I enter. Her eyes crinkle with a polite, practiced smile that reaches the corners of her face.

She's an older woman, her short silver hair framing her face, and glasses perched low on her nose give her a scholarly look.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you?" she asks, her voice warm yet professional.

"Aye, I'm lookin' for Dr. Wood," I respond, leaning casually on the counter, my voice slipping easily into its natural lilt as I deploy my easy charm. "Kenzie."

Her smile wavers, just a touch. "Oh, I'm sorry. Dr. Wood is out for the rest of the week."

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