Page 100 of Shootout Daddies
Brooke doesn’t hesitate. “Okay. Okay. No spiraling. We’re getting tests. Now.”
Chloe stirs in the swing, sensing the tension, her tiny lips wobbling. I scoop her back up, clutching her to my chest while my world crashes sideways.
Ten minutes later, I’m in the bathroom with Brooke while Claire wrangles the kids. Three tests sit lined on the counter, pink lines stark and undeniable.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
My knees give out. I grip the sink to keep from sliding to the floor. My reflection stares back pale and wide-eyed, breath coming in sharp bursts.
Brooke hovers close, hands steady on my shoulders. “Shit.”
Tears prick hot behind my eyes. “No. No, no, no. These could be wrong. False positives happen, right? Right?”
“They can,” Brooke says quickly, her voice fierce. “Stress, hormones, faulty sticks. It’s not final until a doctor confirms.”
My throat locks. “Brooke… if it’s true—if I’m?—”
She squeezes my arms, cutting me off. “Then we deal with it. Together. You’re not doing this alone. Not with me here. Not with them.”
Them.
The word pierces me like a blade. Hunter and Rhett are running drills right now, laughing on the ice, oblivious to the chaos unraveling here at home.
I walk back out of the bathroom and pick Chloe up. She gurgles softly against my shoulder.
Brooke tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, steady as ever. “I’m calling my OB. Tonight. No more guessing.”
I nod, but it feels like my head is filled with cement. My chest heaves. The pink lines blur through the tears I can’t blink away.
Less than two weeks. I’m supposed to leave in less than two weeks.
And now?
Now, everything has changed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Landon
Halpern’s voicefills my ear, steady and clipped as always. “Landon, I wanted to touch base about the handover. I know Allyson was supposed to be stepping in this week.”
I grip the phone tighter, pacing the length of my hotel room. The contract was supposed to be done. My summer stint with the Miami Icemen, a neat little bridge before I headed back to Chicago where my life was supposed to resume.
“Yes, sir,” I say, keeping my tone sharp. “I was just about to finalize the handover notes.”
There’s a pause. The kind of pause Halpern never lets sit unless he’s leading up to something.
“Well,” he says, “that might not be necessary.”
I stop pacing. My stomach tightens. “Excuse me?”
“Allyson won’t be taking over the position. She’s been poached. Rival firm. You know how these things go.”
His voice is matter-of-fact, but my brain catches on the words like they are hooks.
