Page 83 of Dirty Groom (Slayers Hockey 7)

I don’t ask if she watches the games. I don’t know if she saw my assist tonight.

What I do know is that she hasn’t told me about the baby. She still isn’t ready for me to know. And my only indicator that nothing serious is going on is Noel.

Cutting a look across the visitor’s locker room we’re wrapping up in, I see he’s doing some kind of “mash-up” with Rux. So, while he hasn’t said word one to me about Stormy being pregnant, or anything else about her since we ended things, his behavior suggests she’s okay.

Which means I can make it through one more night on the road, and we’ll be home tomorrow. Not that it’s any easier being in the same city with her than it is being away. I still have to fight the urge to go to her, call her, and beg her to come back to me every minute of every damn day. But at least I know I’m close if she needs me.

We take the bus back to the hotel, but as I’m filing out, I realize I don’t have my phone. I pat down my pockets, dig through my bag. Turn around as the bus starts to pull away, and run over, smacking the door with my hand.

“I need to get back to the arena,” I shout through the glass to the sound of squealing brakes.

One of the trainers tells me to wait. That they can call over to the arena and have someone check the locker room, but it’s not good enough. My heart is starting to jack, my muscles tense, readying for a fight.

I’ve been waiting for two weeks. I can’t take any more. I can’t wait in this cycle of fucking inaction for another minute. Not when she doesn’t have a way to reach me.

There’s a cab at the end of the parking loop, but even if there wasn’t, I’m thinking I might just run. Yeah—

A hand on my shoulder pulls me around.

Noel jumps back, hands raised… two phones in one of them.

“It was on the floor under the seats.”

I take it from him, nodding as I suck air, frantically checking the notifications. “Thank you.”

Nothing from Stormy. Nothing from Jess, who called a few nights ago but hung up as soon as I answered.

“You need to chill the fuck out, man,” he says, pulling me off to the side of the hotel entrance so we’re standing by a cluster of oversized planters while the Boston traffic buzzes past.

“I just— What if she called? What if she needed me?”

His brows shoot up, and he looks pissed. “Needed you?” He coughs out a laugh. “That’s rich. She’s been needing you since the day you told her it was over. That there wasn’t anything real to your relationship. What’s different now?”

“Like you don’t know?” My fists ball.

He starts to shake his head, and I snap, grabbing his suit coat to pull him in. “She’s pregnant. And I fucking know you know it. For two fucking weeks you’ve known. And the guy who claimed he wanted to be my brother hasn’t said a fucking word.”

Noel blinks, then lets out a gust of breath and pulls me into a hug so tight— Hell, I don’t have it in me to fight it.

“That’s why you’ve been—” He hugs me harder. “Liam, man. I’m sorry. She’s not pregnant. I don’t know where you heard it, but it’s not true.”

“What?” I choke out, pulling back to search his face and finding only pity.

“There was a rumor at work. She’d been looking tired. Wasn’t eating. Said she felt sick. Word spread like wildfire.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. “Is she okay?”

“No, man. How the hell would she be okay when you broke her damn heart?”

I rub my hand over the break in my own chest, feeling it split even wider. “I was trying to protect her.”

His hands come up like he’s confused. “From what?”

There are so many answers. From Jess. From scandal. From rumors. From the potential of me losing my position on the team.

“From what being with me could cost her.”

He rubs the back of his neck and looks out into the night. “Whelp, you’re doing a shit job. She’s fucking wrecked, bro. And anyone with eyes can see you’re no better.”

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