Page 62 of Sexting the Coach
“Duh,” Mabel says, tilting her head at me. “He looked at you like he wanted to eat you from the first day we started working there.”
It should make me feel better, to hear all this. But it just makes everything feel stickier. After a second of silence, Mabel clears her throat.
When I look up again, Hattie is smiling at me softly, “Oh, that makes sense.”
“What does?”
“You’re in love with him.”
Now it’s Mabel’s turn to nudge Hattie, and my turn to melt into the back of the couch. I’ve suspected it for a long time, but now that the words exist in the universe, I can’t deny that they’re true.
I’m in love with him.
My face falls into my palms. I’m in love with him. I want to have his babies and move in together and sit at the kitchen island every night while he cooks me dinner. I want to cheer him on in his coaching career and treat his hip, force him to go to appointments and crawl into bed next to him every night.
I want him.
“So, I guess you need to talk to him, then,” Mabel says, “if you’re—if you’re thinking about keeping it, and he doesn’t want kids…”
“No.” Once again, I surprise myself with the force that the word comes out of my mouth. “If I talk to him, he’ll do the noble thing. He’ll have the baby with me and take care of it, even though that’s not what he wants.”
Hattie and Mabel sit perfectly still for a second. Then Mabel runs a hand through her long, straight hair, and Hattie pets at the arm of the couch nervously.
“What are you saying, Elsie?” Mabel finally asks, her voice quiet. “Are you saying you, like, want to be a single mom?”
I bite my tongue, thoughts racing through my head faster than I can control them. There’s no way I’m going to Weston with this information. I know what he’s going to do.
Even though he already told me he doesn’t want kids, he would go through with it, if he knew I was keeping it. There’s no way he would step out and make me care for the baby on my own.
Or, even worse, he might send me money. The thought makes me feel sick all over again. The idea of collecting a check from him without actually gettinghim.
“This is such a mess,” I mutter, dropping my head into my hands.
“Yeah,” Mabel whispers, then I feel her shifting, moving to the other side of the couch, the cushions dipping when she sits next to me. “But you’re not alone.”
“Like it or not,” Hattie says, enclosing me on the other side.
With my best friends on either side of me, I sit on the couch, hug the stuffed penguin, and cry.
Chapter 26
Weston
Elsie has been missing for five days now.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve been running around all day, dealing with fires. O’Connell and Meyers got into a fight after the game last night.
We didn’t beat the Rangers. Our dynamic was fucked the entire night, communication practically non-existent, tempers far too short. And not in a good way. We took stupid penalties, gave the Rangers a power play late in the game that totally fucked us.
And after, O’Connell and Meyers decided to put the cherry on the fucking sundae by throwing fists with their own teammates. The entire thing was caught on camera outside the hotel, and put up on TikTok in five seconds flat.
“They’re hockey players,” Bernie says now, walking alongside me, clearly trying to soften the situation. “Bad night. I don’t understand why everyone is reacting like this.”
“Probably because it’s fucking embarrassing,” I mutter, turning and walking into the elevator. PR has called me into the office, and Bernie is tagging along. At first, I thought it was about Elsie and was gearing up to tell them to fuck off.
But it’s not about Elsie.
We walk into the room and find the PR team—whiny guy and all—in something of a panic. They look like they haven’t slept, ponytails loose, glasses sliding down to the ends of noses.
