Page 212 of Pucking Sweet

“Wait—are you pregnant?” asks Tess.

I freeze like a deer in the headlights.Whoops.

“Oh, Pop.” Rachel reaches out, squeezing my hand. “It’s Novy’s isn’t it? Does he know?”

God, do I just tell them? Do I let it out? I search their faces, my anxiety making me choke on the words. “I ...”

Rachel searches my face, confused. “Wait, it’s not his?”

“Ohmygod,” Tess says from my other side. “She’s not sure.”

I take in the looks of surprise on their faces.

“You’re not, are you?” Tess presses. “You’re not sure.”

Slowly, I shake my head.

“This is a lot of information to digest at the turtle gala,” says Rachel. After a moment, she gives my hand another squeeze. “Well, are you—I mean—is ittwoguys on the team?”

Heart racing, I reach for the wine glass again, desperate for anything to do with my hands. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I mutter, shoving it away again. “No, okay? I don’t know who the father is.” Every awful, toxic thing my mother unloaded on me swirls in my head as I glare between my friends. “And yes, they’re both on the team. Andyes, I know I’m a mess. So why don’t you just slap the scarletAon my chest, and tie me to the stake already? Because this wanton hussy hastwogentleman callers.”

They lean back, eyes wide.

“And you know what?” I go on, righteous indignation surging through me. “I’m not picking. You didn’t have to pick, so why should I?” I say at Rachel. I know she’s just a stand-in for my mother at this point, but she’s here, and she asked, and now she’s getting all my deflected rage. Distracted, I pick up the wine glass for a third time. The glass touches my lips, and I all but fling it over to Tess with a shrieked, “Gosh darn it!”

She rescues me from the wine, setting it aside on the next table over.

“It’s Morrow,” says Rachel. “You’ve started something with Novy and Morrow. Right?”

I take her hand. “Please, Rach, you can’t say anything. I’m not ready for people to know. I’m not—we’re not like you, okay?” I’m stumblingall over my words as my head wars with my heart. “We’re—this hasn’t been easy for us the way it seems to be so easy for you. The boys are—it’s just not easy to fall into something like this ...” Not when you have a family who doesn’t support you. Not when you have a lifetime of personal and professional training that has made you conflict-avoidant to a fault. Not when you have the added burden of wanting to protect the peace and security of a child.

Rachel squeezes my hand. “I won’t say anything, Pop. It’s not my business. It’s not anyone’s business.”

I sniff back my tears, letting go of the rest of my anxiety before it eats a hole through my insides. “I just—god, I never meant for any of this to happen. And now it just keeps happening. Four months ago, I was arguing with Lukas in an Uber. Now, I’m meeting him in empty bathrooms at charity events like we’re a pair of horny teenagers.” Echoing his words, a smile flits across my lips. “If we’re not screamin’, we’re screwin’, and I don’t know how to stop.”

I don’t want to stop.

“And Morrow?” Rachel asks.

Looking out across the party, I see him standing with Lukas and some of the other defensemen. They’re both laughing, Lukas relaxed now that he’s had a taste of me. As I watch, he brushes a hand down Colton’s back. The others don’t notice. The others don’t care.

But I notice. I care. It’s not the touch of a teammate or a friend. It’s the claiming, reassuring touch of a lover, a life partner, a soul mate.

Calmness settles in my chest for the first time since the phone call. “I don’t know how to stop,” I say again.

I’ll never stop. Lord, help me, I willneverstop loving these men.

78

Two Months Later

Lukas and I walk side-by-side through the lobby of this swanky South Carolina hotel. Large potted palms tower in all the corners. Everything is marble and gold, dripping in elegance. It’s wedding weekend, and we have our game faces on. Literally. The moment the wheels of our team plane touched down in Jacksonville, we were getting in my car, and driving the four hours straight up to Charleston.

Poppy’s already been here for two days without us. Yesterday, she had to co-host a bridal shower, and then there was a “family only” dinner. Our grueling game schedule means this was the soonest we could get away. We’ve already missed out on the “guys and gals” events this morning. Apparently, the groom and his party went to play a round of golf, while the ladies headed to the spa.

Lukas and I are here just in time to check into our room, change our clothes, and head back downstairs for the start of the rehearsal dinner. He’s still got his shades on, a hint of stubble on his face. I trace my gaze down the thin pink scar on his jaw.

“Okay, now what are we gonna do?” I say, putting a hand on his shoulder.

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