Page 152 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
Ava nods, her hands restless in her lap. “That’s good. You’ll be back on the ice before it’s over.”
“Yeah. I’ll still travel with the team for Game 3. We head out in two days.”
She looks up. “Do you want me to come with you?”
Her question catches me off guard, hitting somewhere deep.
“Only if you want to,” I say carefully.
“I do.” She slides her fingers into mine, giving my hand a firm squeeze. “I want to be there with you. Miss Taylor can stay with the boys.”
I curl my hand around hers, my thumb tracing softly over her knuckles.
“I’d like that.”
She nods, then her brow furrows. “I should probably call my doctor.” She swallows. “They’ll want to check everything. Make sure…”
I squeeze her hand. “I’ll drive,” I say. “I’ll sit in the waiting room. Or go in if you want me to. Whatever you need.”
She gives a tiny, relieved nod, her shoulders dropping just a fraction.
She nudges her knee against mine. “This wasn’t in my plan,” she says softly, a rueful little smile tugging at her mouth.
“Mine either,” I admit. “But plans change. What doesn’t is me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
AVA
Isit in the passenger seat of Jackson’s truck, hands twisted together in my lap. Jackson drives confidently, his good hand steady on the wheel. Every so often, he glances at me, like he wants to say something but holds back.
Yesterday, after we saw the result, I called my doctor’s office. When they learned I was pregnant with an IUD in place, they squeezed me in for an appointment first thing this morning.
The closer we get to the clinic, the more my thoughts splinter. The test was one thing, but this appointment feels real in a way that roots into my bones.
When we pull into the parking lot, I let out a nervous breath. Jackson cuts the engine but doesn’t move to open his door right away. He turns to me instead.
“Hey.” His voice is low, careful. “You ready?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we’ll sit,” he says, easy. We breathe for a few beats.
“Okay,” I whisper at last. I pop the handle and push the door open. Cool air spills in as I step down.
Without a word, he offers his hand. I take it and he gives a steady squeeze. It anchors me just enough to take a deep breath as we cross the lot.
Inside, Jackson keeps hold of my hand while I check in, and we find seats in the corner.
My knee bounces restlessly.
For the past week, I’ve been consumed by what-ifs, and what it might mean for us if I was pregnant. I kept imagining that if I said it out loud, I’d somehow lose everything we were just beginning to build.
But now, with his hand over mine, with him showing up in every possible way, the weight starts to slip off my shoulders. It’s notgone, but it’s lighter. Because no matter how scared I am, I know I’m not in this alone.
When they call my name, I stand on wobbly legs. Jackson rises too.
The nurse smiles as she leads us down the hall. “Right this way. We’ll take good care of you.”
