Page 91 of Slap Shot Daddies

Kenzie shakes her head, her smile turning a bit shy. "I can’t," she says, hesitating for a heartbeat before letting out a nervous laugh. "Because I’m pregnant."

Time seems to freeze.

My breath stumbles, catching in my throat. The vibrant noise of the bar dims, replaced by a high-pitched ringing that fills my ears. Next to me, Reggie stands as if turned to stone.

It's as though the very balance of the universe has shifted, the floor beneath us tilting dangerously. Kenzie's revelation reverberates in my mind, a shocking echo that lands like an unforeseen blow.

Jinx’s eyes widen, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, but Reggie and I are even more taken aback.

Instinctively, we move closer.

Reggie strides forward, his heavy boots thudding against the worn, creaky wooden floors with urgency. I barely notice the mumbled complaint from the guy I accidentally bump into.

My attention is laser-focused on Kenzie, whose expression shifts rapidly from amusement to sheer panic the instant she catches sight of us standing behind her.

Her fingers grip the edge of the bar as if anchoring herself to reality. "H-how much did you hear?" she asks, her voice barely more than a strained whisper, each word trembling with unease.

"All of it." The words scrape out of my throat, sounding foreign and rough, leaving my mouth dry and my stomach twisted into a tight knot of confusion and dread I can’t quite unravel.

Reggie remains silent beside me, his gaze fixed on her. His green eyes are darkened by a mix of hurt and shock that seems to weigh heavily on the moment.

Kenzie swallows hard, her face growing paler under the harsh, flickering neon glow of the beer signs, as if the light itself is draining the color from her cheeks. Her eyes dart between us, searching desperately for an escape route that isn’t there.

Jinx, perceptive as ever, immediately senses the tension crackling in the air. She stands up from her barstool, smoothing her dress as if brushing off invisible specks of lint.

"I think I’m gonna go talk to Bruno," she announces with forced nonchalance, clearly intent on giving us the space we need.

She gently pats Kenzie's shoulder before slipping into the crowd, leaving a void where she stood.

Now, it’s just the three of us, and the silence is oppressive, filled with the weight of all the things left unsaid.

Kenzie nervously rubs her arms, as if trying to physically ward off the suffocating atmosphere, her eyes never meeting ours for too long. The usual clamor of the bar fades into an indistinct background hum, replaced by the relentless pounding of my heart.

I clench my teeth and force the words out, “Were you ever going to tell us?” The question feels rough and unpolished in my throat, loaded with resentment.

Kenzie swallows hard, her lips pressing into a thin line as she responds in a trembling murmur, “We need to talk outside.” Without pausing for a reply, she pushes past us and heads straight for the parking lot.

We exchange quick, uncertain glances before following her into the cool night. As soon as the heavy bar door swings shut behind us, the raucous noise dims to a low murmur, a distant hum of passing cars, and the subdued bass from inside echoing in the background.

Under the stark glow of streetlights, Kenzie wraps her arms tightly around herself. Her breath puffs out in visible, jittering clouds in the cold air.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she finally confesses, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. “And I was scared.”

Reggie’s face crumples, and with a thick Scottish accent, he blurts, “Scared of what? Of us? That we wouldn’t want the baby?” His words crackle with raw disbelief and pain.

Kenzie doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she bites her lower lip, the silence between us swelling with more meaning than words could ever capture. Reggie steps back, his eyes glistening under the harsh glow of streetlights.

“Are ye saying ye don’t even know if you’re keeping it?” he rasps, his voice hoarse, as if the very idea is too heavy to bear.

Kenzie’s gaze falls to the ground, her hands tightly gripping the fabric of her coat until her knuckles blanch. In that long, heavy moment, she says nothing, leaving the air thick with everything that remains unsaid.

Something inside me snaps like a brittle twig underfoot. "We need to tell Braden," I say, my voice harder and sharper than I intend, each word laced with the frustration and betrayal coiling in my gut like a snake.

Kenzie winces, her shoulders hunching slightly as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I already did," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

The rage that follows is instantaneous, a wildfire spreading through my chest. "Wait, you told Braden over a week ago?" I demand, my voice cutting through the air like a knife, and I see Kenzie physically flinch at its intensity.

"So, Braden knew, and now Jinx knows, and Ally knew?" My hands clench into fists, knuckles white and trembling at my sides. "When were you planning on telling us?"

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