Page 89 of Stick Work

I tug my coat around me tighter, and don’t miss the way Sahara keeps one eye on me and one eye on the Bucks as they play Detroit on the ice in front of us. I didn’t want to come tonight, didn’t want to set eyes on the man I love, who just wants to ‘fix’ everything, and by fix, he means move on with his life, and definitely without me as his wife. He as much as said…I don’t want…I don’t have to be a brain surgeon, or a psychologist like our friend Melanie, to know what that means.

But now there’s a baby. Our baby.

How the hell did that happen? God, I should have guessed by the way my body was feeling so off. I’d been so stressed with school, work, theater and playing a role that felt far too real, to sit down and figure out what my body had been trying to tell me.

I don’t know how I’ll manage school and a newborn, but I do know one thing. I want this baby. No matter what. The doctor said I’m due in the summer, which buys me time to recover before the fall semester. Logically, that should be reassuring. But logic doesn’t quiet the storm in my heart.

Elias said we weren’t done talking. He’s texted so many times. I know I should respond and I will respond. But not yet. Not until I can face the reality that the man I love doesn’t love me back.

I shake the thought away, but memories crash over me like a tidal wave—the way he’d look at me across a crowded room, like I was the only person there. The way he held me, touched me, made me feel like I mattered. Like we mattered. How could I not fall for a man like that? And worse… how could I have believed, even for a second, that he was falling for me too?

Maybe I’m too naïve. Too young, and too hopeful, to believe in a love that was never mine to believe in.

Now here I am at the rink, because Sahara dragged me out of the house—literally—after days of nothing but school, doctor’s appointments, and hiding out in my bedroom. She thinks she’s saving me from myself, but what she doesn’t know is that I’ve been torturing myself in a whole different way.

I’ve driven past Elias’s place more times than I care to admit, my hands gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. Every time, I told myself I wouldn’t do it again. And yet, I’d find myself there, staring at the house I once poured my heart into decorating, only to see unfamiliar vehicles parked outside. A rotation of them throughout the week.

Was he partying? Filling the place with beautiful, carefree women, bunnies? Honestly, that doesn’t sound like him. At least, not the Elias I knew.

But maybe I never really knew him at all.

The truth is, I thought I wanted freedom. A year ago, the idea of running wild, being young and unattached, sounded exhilarating. But that was before Elias. Before I knew what it felt like to have someone make even the smallest moments feel like everything. Now, I don’t want any of those things. Not without him.

A sharp pang hits my chest, and my eyes sting with unshed tears. A mix of baby hormones and heartbreak. I press my hand to my stomach, cradling the tiny life inside me, and force myself to breathe.

“It’s going to be okay,” Sahara consoles, squeezing my hand. I turn to her, wanting to believe her.

But it’s not going to be okay. We both know that. Unless, of course, she knows something I don’t. Which isn’t possible.

My mind once again drifts back to last week, to the conversation I’ve replayed a million times. No matter how hard I try to twist it into something else, I keep landing on the same painful conclusion.

It was all pretend.

What about the bunnies, Taylor?

The thought crashes into my mind out of nowhere, and for a second, I don’t even know where it came from. Then I remember. Kalen had told Elias he should’ve stuck to the bunnies. He didn’t agree. He didn’t laugh it off. He said my name. My name.

I sit up straighter, my stomach twisting in a way that has nothing to do with the baby. Did he say my name because of the act we were putting on… or because…

Wait.

He’d stopped seeing the bunnies long before we ever started pretending.

That was because of his parents, though. Because of his ex selling pictures to the media. Right? Oh, God. What if I’m wrong? What if he stopped seeing them… because he wanted to be with me? Is that just wishful thinking?

“Oh God,” I whisper, my fingers tightening over my stomach as my eyes blur over the rink below.

Sahara squeezes my hand tighter. “I know,” she murmurs, wincing.

That’s when I snap back to the moment—just in time to hear the buzzer and the crowd erupting in fury. I blink, refocusing. The entire arena is screaming at Kalen, and not in a good way. What the hell just happened?

My eyes dart across the rink, searching for my brother. I spot him skating toward his coach, and before I can even process what’s happening, he’s on the bench—benched. A chill runs through me, my stomach twisting into knots as I glance at Sahara.

“He’s not being a team player,” she explains quietly. “Elias was open, and Kalen wouldn’t pass to him. Detroit stole the puck and scored.”

Oh God.

My pulse pounds in my ears. “This is all my fault.” Right from the start, I swore I’d never come between friends. And now, here they are, unable to even play together.

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