Page 36 of Hooked On Them

“I need to...” She gestured vaguely toward the bathroom, already pulling away. “I should clean up.”

“Yeah, of course.” I sat up, giving her space to move past me.

Her face was a careful mask as she gathered her clothes, but I caught the tremble in her hands. She disappeared into the bathroom, and the soft click of the door closing felt like the end of something that had just started.

I sank back against the couch, naked and suddenly cold. I grabbed my boxers from the floor and pulled them on, trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions crashing through me.

Disappointment? Sure. Relief? Not really. But mostly, weirdly, protectiveness. Because while I might not be the father, I’d seen Dominic in action, and I knew enough to know what kind of man he was.

Not to mention her job was even more at risk now.

The sound of water running in the bathroom couldn’t quite mask the quiet sob I heard through the door.

Fuck.

I pulled on my pants, mind racing. I’d thought that receiving this news might change my feelings and be my exit cue. It certainly was a reason to bow out gracefully if I wanted to. Instead, I felt more invested than ever.

I made my final decision right there, half-dressed on her couch with the scent of her still on my skin. I wasn’t walking away. Not from this. Not from her.

I wasn’t the father, but I wanted to be there for her. For them.

It wasn’t my place, and I had no right, but when had something being a bad idea ever stopped me before? If anything, it usually encouraged me.

I’d be whatever she needed: a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a buffer against the inevitable drama. I had resources, connections, and a pathological need to solve problems. And I’d be damned if I let her face this alone.

Chapter13

Surprise

Nora

I’d been avoiding this moment for forty-eight hours, watching the clock tick by with the enthusiasm of someone awaiting their own execution. The rational part of my brain knew I needed to tell Dominic about the pregnancy, but the survival-oriented part of my brain had a much stronger argument: Don’t poke the bear after a loss.

And last night’s game had been a disaster.

But was now a good time? We started out the morning with a team meeting in which Coach Lovell highlighted the numerous mistakes from last night’s brutal five-to-one loss to Vancouver, and now the team was having a shit practice.

From my position near the boards, I watched Dominic. His posture was a case study in frustration. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw clenched tight enough to pulverize a jawbreaker, and his eyes focused on some distant point like he was trying to set it on fire with his mind. Every play was executed with barely contained rage.

After what felt like the longest practice in hockey history, Coach Lovell wrapped things up. I lingered near the entrance of the locker room as the players filed past, wiping sweat from their brows and discussing plans for their day off tomorrow. Miles caught my eye and gave me a small smile that I returned half-heartedly.

My stomach churned as Dominic approached. Whether it was morning sickness or nerves, I couldn’t tell anymore. I’d been putting this off for too long. Game day protocol meant never delivering potentially distracting news before a match, but now there were no more excuses. Just me, him, and a truth that would irreversibly change both our lives.

“Wilson, got a minute?” My voice projected a confidence I didn’t feel.

“What for?” His tone held all the warmth of a Minnesota winter.

“I need to discuss something with you.” I swallowed hard, tasting the remnants of this morning’s ginger tea, my new constant companion instead of coffee. “In private.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, reminding me of one of those wind-up toys ready to explode. “Can it wait? I’m not exactly in the mood for another skating lecture.”

“It’s not about that.” I lowered my voice, aware of the curious glances from passing staff members. They’d gotten used to our post-practice discussions, but this was different. Everything was different now. “My office. Please.” I tacked on the ‘please’ like a peace offering, though the news I had to share was more akin to dropping a bomb.

He studied me for a long moment, and I wondered if he could see the secret written across my face in neon letters. Then he gave a curt nod. “Fine. Let me shower first.”

I’d straightened several stacks of papers and was pacing the small confines of my office like a caged animal.

I’d rehearsed this conversation a dozen different ways, but none of them seemed right. When the knock finally came, it startled me, even after spending the last twenty minutes anticipating it.

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