Page 90 of Stick Work

“We have to do something. I need to talk to Kalen.”

“Yeah, you do.” Sahara pats my hand, her voice gentle but firm. “And you also need to talk to Elias.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight. “I…” The words stick in my throat, tangled with fear. Then, finally, I force them out. “You’re right.”

Relief floods her face. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

I exhale shakily, trying to gather my thoughts, but my eyes betray me. They drift back to the ice, and land on Elias. My heart jumps into my throat. He’s looking at me. The air around me seems to still as our gazes lock. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something there, something raw. Hurt. And beneath it, something that looks dangerously close to love.

I’ve seen that look before.

A sharp pang cuts through my chest. When I told him to leave, I was an emotional wreck—overwhelmed, reeling from the pregnancy news, and then Kalen lost it, making everything worse. It all happened so fast. Did I even give Elias a chance? Have I made a terrible mistake?

I stay frozen in place as the game plays out, my hands clenched in my lap. Kalen never leaves the bench. By the time the final buzzer sounds, we’ve lost. Most of the guys clear out quickly, and for once, I’m relieved. The last place I want to go to is Kilting Around for a post-game drink—non-alcoholic, of course. I need to talk to Kalen, and that’s not going to happen in a loud bar filled with distractions. As we make our way out of the stadium, movement in my peripheral vision makes my breath hitch.

Elias’s parents.

My stomach clenches. I lower my head, my pulse hammering in my ears. If they were here watching the game, they had to notice something was wrong. They had to see the way Kalen played—how he didn’t play. They’re going to know something happened between Elias and me.

How do I tell them that I’m carrying their first grandchild? That Elias and I are… divorcing? A fresh wave of nausea rolls through me.

Wait.

Maybe they already know. Maybe Elias told them everything. He’s close with his grandma.

I gulp, and my brain stalls.

Grandma.

I don’t get to call her that anymore.

Sahara must sense the ache in my soul, but she doesn’t say a word, she just puts her arm around me and guides me outside to her car. My body moves on autopilot as I climb into the passenger side and she stands outside the car, her phone in her hand. She spends a few minutes texting and then slides in beside me. I stare out the window as she negotiates the busy parking lot, but when she takes a left instead of a right, I sit up.

“Where are we going?”

“Kalen wants to go to Kilting Around,” she tells me, her eyes locked on the road.

“Really?” That doesn’t sound like Kalen. After a loss, he usually just wants to go home, watch games in replay until he can’t keep his eyes open.

“You guys can talk there,” she says, still not looking at me.

“Sahara, I don’t want to go there if Elias is there. I’m not ready and while I know we need to talk, I don’t want to do it in a busy pub.”

She casts me a fast, nervous glance, and I can’t help but think something is going on with her. Heck, how would I know? I’ve been wallowing in self-pity so long that I haven’t looked up long enough to see how my friend is doing.

“Saha—” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“It’ll be okay. From what I heard, his parents are in town, so he’s with them.”

I sink a little in my seat. I can’t imagine his grandmother would want to go to a pub so I relax a bit. Not that I ever truly believed he spent the past week filling his house with bunnies, but one of those unfamiliar vehicles in his driveway suddenly make sense. It was his family.

God, I miss them.

A little while later, she finds us a parking spot on the quiet street. If the guys had won, the streets would be busy. They didn’t so I’m assuming they’ve all gone straight home. I tug my hat on as I step from the car and a cold breeze blows down the street. When we reach Kilting Around, there’s a sign outside indicating that it’s closed for a private event. I’m a little relieved.

“That’s too bad,” I say, faking it.

“Let me just check inside.”

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