Page 39 of Chasing The Goal
Mallory
The hallway between thelocker room and the back exit always carried this weird blend of bleach and old sweat—like the ghosts of every game and injury lingered there, soaked into the cinderblock. Usually, I powered through without a second thought.
Today, it made my stomach lurch.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, sneakers squeaking faintly as I paced the short strip of polished concrete. My pulse thudded somewhere in my throat. The muffled sounds of the locker room filtered through the heavy door—laughter, the rustle of gear being shoved into bags, Logan’s exaggerated storytelling that always seemed to end in him getting chirped by Connor.
I shouldn’t be this nervous.
It was Jaymie. Just Jaymie. The dorky hockey player with a heart of gold who’d made me an omelet without asking. The guy who, for reasons I couldn’t quite pin down, kept showing up for me—quietly, reliably.
And maybe that was the problem.
He made it easy to want more.
But I couldn’t go there. Not with him. Not with anyone, not now.
I wasn’t ready for more. I wasn’t even sure I could do this pregnancy thing as a whole person, let alone someone’s partner. What if I started to rely on him? What if he got too close? What if I screwed everything up by hoping for something that was never on the table?
No. I wasn’t asking for that.
I was asking as a friend. Strictly as a friend.
He'd offered support, made himself available. He'd said "anything," and this… this counted, right?
I bit my lip and turned toward the door again, fingers curling into fists and uncurling. I’d told Dakota last night—not because she’d pushed, but because the words had been sitting in my throat for days. I’d typed them out over three different drafts of a text and finally hit send just before midnight.
Herresponse had been immediate. Warm. Surprised, but supportive. She’d sent a ridiculous GIF of a dancing baby and then followed it up with,Please tell me you have a doctor’s appointment scheduled.
I had one. Tomorrow morning. Bright and early. And no one to go with me.
Until maybe now.
The door creaked open and Jaymie stepped out, a beanie half-slouched over his curls and a hoodie looped over one shoulder. His cheeks were still flushed from the skate, his mouth stretched in a post-practice grin.
And damn it, he looked good.
His eyes found mine immediately, and that grin softened, like I was the reason he was smiling.
“Hey, Mal.”
God, that smile. All lopsided charm and sincerity. I suddenly forgot how to breathe.
“Hey,” I said, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets. “Got a second?”
He glanced behind him, then back at me. “Sure. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said too quickly. “I mean, kind of. I just,”
He stepped closer, brow furrowing in concern. “You’re not feeling sick again, are you?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No. I’m good.”
I exhaled sharply and stared at the ground for a second, watching the toe of my shoe nudge a scuff on the floor.
“I have my first doctor’s appointment. Like, for the baby. It’s next week.”
Jaymie’s gaze softened, and I felt his attention settle fully on me, like the world quieted around us.
