Page 1 of A Little Puck Luck

Prologue

Annette

Seven years ago

Lookingatthepregnancytest, all I could do was swear. Terry and I weren’t ready to have a kid. Hell, Terry was days away from getting drafted into the NHL. Everyone in the city was excited to see how Terry “Scuba” Scrubewski would be a top ten pick.

My parents were going to kill me. Us.

A couple of tears fell as my mind spiraled.

Do I tell Terry and wreck his life, too?

I was already on the fence about the two of us staying together. I was moving to Trysdale University in Toronto while Terry was either moving to Cleveland, Raleigh, or Dallas. At least, that was his thoughts from the talks. It all depended on who drafted him.

Maybe I shouldn’t tell anyone.

Now, I had to hide my growing stomach and pretend nothing was wrong.

I just didn’t understand how this could have happened. I had an IUD, and we always used a condom. It had to be God’s will for me to have a kid, but I didn’t see why.

There was a knock on the door. “Sweetie, is everything okay?”

I grabbed a tissue and wiped my face. Thankfully, I wasn’t actively crying. I looked in the mirror to see if there was any way I could hide my tears.

Nope. My face was flushed, and my eyes were so puffy and red. I washed my hands and splashed some cool water on my face.

My mom knocked again, and I decided it was time to tell her. At least my family was so supportive that I could tell them anything, even if it sucked.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and hugged my mom. “I need to go to the doctor. I think I’m pregnant.”

Mom just hugged me back. I didn’t cry again, but I was sure my life was over.

Of course, the earliest appointment available with my gynecologist was the day of the draft. So, instead of hanging out with Terry like I promised, I sat in a doctor’s office.

My mom held my hand. All I wanted to do was run and hide, but that wasn’t going to fix anything.

Talking to the doctor about my options made it feel real. Not that many of her solutions felt plausible. With my faith, abortion was off the table, so it was only between the possibility of adoption and raising it on my own.

I felt so damn scared.

As we talked, I got a text from Terry.

Terry:Sorry you’re not here with me. Wishing you luck at the doctor’s.

Thanks to my stupid hormones, I told him about the pregnancy scare, the real reason I was at the doctor, and why I couldn’t go to the draft with him. He was so excited at the thought of raising a kid and was ready to come with me to the doctor’s, but that felt so wrong. So, instead, I told him to go to the draft.

On the biggest day of his life, he was thinking only about me. It told me everything, especially since he would have to give up his career if we kept the kid.

There was no way we could carry the kid to term. It would wreck his life.

Two Months Later

Ever since Terry reported to the development camp for the Cleveland Sound, he called every night to check on me, but I saw the reports from the media. They were all saying he was unfocused and might have been drafted too high.

It was all my fault. I needed to give Terry his life back so I didn’t destroy his dreams of killing it in the NHL.

When the phone rang, I wanted to decline the call, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was too cold to do it over text.

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