Another Goal, page 4
“Oh, Mil-bil. You don’t need to be so frightened. Women have babies all the time.”
“Not that. Not only that.” I looked around for tissues, a napkin… Nothing. So I used the sleeve of my cardigan and grimaced. Oh, that was going in the wash as soon as I ended this call. I didn’t like bodily fluids—another reason I was freaking out about parenting. From what I’d seen and heard, babies eliminated from every hole possible, and often. The idea made me gag.
“What if…” I licked my lips. “What if Luka’s like…” I didn’t want to say his name. I shuddered. “What if he uses the baby to control me?” I whispered. Like my father did.
Maxim appeared behind Ida Jane, his bulk blocking most of the light. He peered in closer, his face softening as he took in my forlorn expression.
“Ah. Because someone has hurt you. Your father that you mentioned.” He gave a sharp nod. “It is as I told Ida Jane. Stolly is one of the best guys I know.”
“Luka,” I said. “His name is Luka. And the baby is a she. I’m having a girl, not an it, and her name will definitely not be Gordie.”
“We already ruled that out. You should have led with the baby’s gender! You had the sonogram?” Ida Jane asked. “Is it the three-D kind where you can see her little face? Show me, show me, show me! I want to see her sweet nose and chin. I hope she has your chin, but maybe Stol—er Luka’s cheekbones. That man’s cheekbones are to die for.”
Ida Jane leaned in so close, her nose had to be touching her laptop’s screen.
I shook my head. “I have to wait almost six more weeks for the sonogram because the doctor said that’s the best time to find out the baby’s gender.”
Wow. Eighteen weeks was…a good way through the pregnancy. Almost five full months.
“And you’re right,” I continued. “She really needs to inherit his cheeks.” I groaned. “Dammit, now I’ll be sad if she doesn’t.”
“No, you won’t. She’ll be precious no matter whose cheeks she gets.”
“And you’re going to be her godmother.” I was on a roll now.
“Of course I am.” Ida Jane smiled happily. “I’ll spoil her properly.”
“But not too much,” I said, wagging a finger.
“You really think you’re having a girl?” Ida Jane asked.
“I really do. It’s a…feeling, I guess. But it’s more than that. And I’m going to name her Bree, because I love that name and I love her, so she gets the best of everything.”
Ida Jane’s expression turned dreamy, a smile curing her lips. “She will, Millie. I know she will, because you’re going to be an amazing mom.”
I snuffled a bit, surprised at my show of emotion but, at the same time, pleased with it. I hadn’t been sure I’d be able to love anyone after Trent. My hand crept down to my belly.
Ida Jane tracked the move, and she must have understood some of my thought process because her expression soured and worry glinted from her eyes. “Does your father know about the baby?” she asked.
“Not from me. I never plan to tell him.”
And just like that, my burgeoning power drained out of me. My lower lip quivered. These hormones were insane.
I never cried. Not even when Trent had refused to use a condom that night. He’d told me he was getting me pregnant whether I wanted to be or not—which I had not—so I’d had to run away from the man my father had chosen for me. I hadn’t cried when my father had stormed into my workplace, steam curling out of his mouth and raising his eyebrows as he shoved his face close to mine and told me I was marrying Trent immediately. And I hadn’t cried when I’d begged Ida Jane to move into my new condo with me and started searching for out-of-country jobs.
I hadn’t even cried when my father had taunted me with all that money, telling me I only got to have it if I was a good girl and did the right thing by Trent—that he and Trent deserved their next big merger, and I would not mess up a multibillion-dollar deal with accusations that should have stayed quiet between a man and his fiancée.
That’s when I’d blended up my engagement ring, nicking the platinum before mailing it back and cutting all ties.
That was a lesson I would never forget. My father cared more about his precious empire than his only child. He’d been more upset on Trent’s behalf than mine. I would never, ever put my baby Bree in a position where she had to deal with my father.
It was more important than ever that I stay tucked away, a long distance from my father’s wealth and power.
“I don’t blame you there,” Ida Jane murmured. “Look, your dad’s a piece of work, bless his heart, but St—er, Luka’s not like him. Maxim just told you, Luka’s great. And he really is, Mil-bil. He’s around all the time for dinner, and I really like him.” She gave me her most winning smile. “Don’t go lumping him in with your father just yet. You need to give him a chance.”
“You’re right,” I said on a sigh. “That means I need to call him back.”
“You already did the hard part of telling him about the baby…”
“Bree,” I reminded her. I’d better have a girl, because otherwise I was going to end up with a kid named Gordie. I shook my head. “I’ll call him.”
“Now.”
I blew out a breath. “Now.”
“As soon as you hang up,” Ida Jane said, her expression stern.
“Talk soon,” I said.
“Love you, Mil-bil!”
Sure, she did. She wasn’t the one having to make this call.
I sucked in my breath and dialed Luka’s number.
“Is now a bad time?” I asked when he answered.
“No! Don’t hang up.” He glanced away from the screen. “We’re just hanging out. Cormac, I’m hitting your office.”
I closed my eyes as Luka carried his phone to a different location, away from the tumult of voices.
“Okay. It’s quiet here.” He took a slow breath. “Thank you for calling me back.”
He was angry. I could see the tension around his eyes and in the set of his mouth. I deserved that anger, but it made me feel small, mean—and I hated that. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
I glanced away as I swallowed. “I’ve been in one serious relationship.” I shook my head. “It ended terribly.” Understatement of understatements, but I wasn’t getting into that mess right now.
“So you steered clear of men.”
I met Luka’s gaze, which had softened. “I did. I also was determined to see your entire gender as…” I pressed my lips together. Luka didn’t need to know about Trent and his predatory behavior. “Then you sat down that night, and I…” I smiled, and it felt wistful. “You swept me off my feet, Luka. That sounds so ridiculous—”
“It was the same for me.” He cleared his throat, his gaze direct. “I want to be involved. With the baby.”
“Okay.” I nodded, then nodded again, unsure what else to do.
“I’m serious, Millie. I don’t know yet what that means, because we’re basically a day’s travel apart, but I want to be involved in my kid’s life.”
I nibbled my lip. “I have a sonogram. In six weeks. To find out what we’re having.”
“When?” Luka asked.
“You’ll have a game—”
“When, Millie?”
I stuttered out the date and time.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “But I want to be there.”
“You’re in the middle of a playoff run,” I reminded him.
“So? I’m only going to go to… How many sonograms do you have?”
“Well, since I’m healthy, not that many.”
Luka narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Right. So this is important. We get to find out what we’re having.” He squirmed. “I’d like that to be together.” His supplication melted my heart.
“I’d like that, too.” I bit my lip. “But I think she’s a girl.”
“Well, we’ll find out for sure together.” His smile beamed so brightly, I couldn’t help but be dazzled once again by Luka Stol.
Chapter 3
Luka
Cruz tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as we headed home from Cormac’s house. We’d stayed longer than he probably wanted, but I liked hanging out with the guys, especially this time of year.
“Something’s up with management,” he said into the silence.
I sighed, still focused on my conversation with Millie and how I was going to manage to be in the fucking room when we found out our baby’s sex. I shifted in my seat. I wasn’t completely reassured by Millie’s comments that she was well and the baby was, too.
There were few things I’d wanted in life, and fewer still that I’d grabbed hold of with both hands. Hockey was one. The Wildcatters had been my dream team. But Coach’s frustration with my performance could have me well on my way to fucking up that dream.
“I saw Gunnar heading out of Coach’s office when I was up there. Figured there’s a trade in the works,” I said. I won’t let that happen. I can’t. I knew how to work hard. So I damn well better buckle down—with a brief break to go to Sri Lanka and see Millie in person.
Coach would never go for that.
Cruz grunted. “I know I’m supposed to stay open-minded about trades, but I like our team, our chemistry. Our playoff chances.”
“Me, too.” But it didn’t change the fact that my name was out there as a trade option. “What are you doing after the season?” I asked, suddenly desperate for something, anything, that wasn’t related to my new reality.
While we were at Cormac’s, Keelie’s cat, Slippers, had used my lap as her resting place, and I now swiped at the fur coating my pants.
My mind continued to whirl. I’d wanted more time with Millie, but I hadn’t expected our hookup to come with a lifetime connection. Millie thought we were having a baby girl. A girl. I was having a daughter. Of course I was. And I was excited. Thrilled about meeting my daughter.
Last laugh on me there. I’d been more than happy to love and leave my share of women. But that had changed when I met Millie. She meant something to me. Somehow, during those days I’d spent getting to know her, she’d wormed her way inside.
I didn’t know if what I felt for Millie was love—anger, rejection, and frustration overpowered the sweeter emotion. But what I felt for my baby was pure adoration. I loved my baby.
Now and always. Even if I hadn’t already decided to be better about casual sex, the idea of my kid one day asking about my romantic life made me want to be a man she could respect, trust—and know I respected and trusted her.
Jesus. Less than a day into parenthood, and I wanted to become a monk.
“Gonna reunite more veterans with their dogs,” Cruz said, pulling my mind out of my strange musings and back into the truck with him. “Maybe I’ll bring one home with me this time. Get a house and a yard. Do the whole responsible-adult thing.”
I shook my hand, trying to get the fur I’d extracted from my pants to detach. The bundle got near the air-conditioning vent and shot up my nose.
“Fuck!” I batted at my face, coughing. I sneezed once, twice, three times.
Cruz stuck his finger in his ear and twisted it. “You’re loud.”
“Sorry.” I used the hem of my T-shirt to wipe my face. Note to self: no pets.
“I’m hungry,” Cruz grumbled. “Want some tacos?”
“Good idea. I’m buying.”
He turned into a parking lot that housed a few food trucks, and we walked up to the window. Cruz ordered for us both in Spanish, then shot the shit with the wizened man while I paid.
“Stolly?”
I turned at my name, then winced.
Brenda…Bridget…Brittany? stood a couple of feet away, eyes wide, a panther’s grin on her lips. She was tall, lithe, and bottle-blond with a banging body.
“Hey,” I said weakly.
“You never got my number. Back when we were together.”
That had been at the start of the season, about a month before I sat down at the table with Millie.
“Yeah, well, we had fun…”
She edged in closer, so that her cute, strappy sandals were on the toes of my sneakers. “I rocked your world—and you rocked mine.” She bit her lip.
“It was fun,” I said, stepping backward and bumping into Cruz, who made a sound like a startled bear. “But, ah, I met someone.”
Brittany? blinked. “You met someone. That’s why you didn’t call me?”
“Well, I didn’t have your number, but yeah.” Focus, dumbass. “We’re, ah, together—exclusive.”
She tipped her head forward so all that long, blond hair streamed over her perky tits. “You’re telling me you’re in a relationship?” She giggled. “Please.”
I straightened. “Why is that funny?”
“Because your eyes were roving even while your hands were on me.”
I wasn’t that bad, was I?
“Food’s done,” Cruz said. “Let’s go.”
“Good luck with your life,” I said with a halfhearted wave.
“Good luck having an actual relationship,” she shot back.
I heaved a sigh as I climbed back into the truck. “Don’t start,” I snapped at Cruz. I grabbed my drink, shoved the straw in, and took a long pull. I shuddered. Unsweetened iced tea. Damn Cruz and his religious zeal for nutrition.
“I didn’t say anything,” he said as he started the engine. “She’s pretty.”
“She wanted to fuck a hockey player. I obliged.”
Cruz said nothing.
“And I regret it,” I said into the deepening silence.
He looked over. “I know.”
Much as I wanted to yell at him, I couldn’t. Cruz hadn’t gone through the puck-bunny stage. Cruz had been a responsible adult from the time he was in diapers; I was sure of that. The man seemed to ooze dependability. He’d told me his dad had died when he was really young; he’d been a truck driver and didn’t make it home from a haul. Cruz’s older brother, Raymond, had been a K-9 handler for the Army. When Raymond died, Cruz’s family spent years trying to get his dog, Zeus, home with them.
Cruz didn’t talk about Raymond much, but we all knew he’d managed to track Zeus down, get him discharged, and bring him home. The two of them had been inseparable until Zeus died, right around the time Cruz started playing in the NHL.
I wasn’t supposed to know that Cruz had bought his mother’s house outright and gotten her and his sisters new cars, paid for their college. Cruz didn’t like to make a big deal about supporting the women in his family, but they were damn lucky to have him.
Hell, I’d become like his little brother, using Cruz’s sense of duty to get me through my workouts and the season.
I am a dad. That was so much more responsibility than dealing with adults. I needed to buck up, get my shit together. Be more Cruz than Cruz.
“I’m thinking it’s time to buy a house near the rest of the guys,” Cruz said. “I want a dog or three.” He shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Plan to reunite more.”
“Need any help?” I asked.
“You’re going to be busy with a kid,” he reminded me.
I sighed. “Not if I can’t talk Millie into sharing custody.”
“Then you better come up with a plan to do that.”
I spread my hands on my knees, fingers as wide as they could go. “I’m not sure I want to.”
Cruz glared at me so hard I was sure my skull cracked. “You don’t want to be part of the kid’s life?”
When a car horn blared, he turned back to the road, just missing a couple of parked vehicles.
“Oh, I’m definitely going to be part of my kid’s life.” I cleared my throat. “Millie thinks the baby’s a girl.”
Cruz chuckled. “That would be something—you with a sweet little baby girl.”
I shot him a look. “My daughter’s going to know I love her and want her and all that shit. I’m just not sure we should split custody. I mean, that messes kids up, moving back and forth between houses and friends and all that weirdness. I’d rather be an everyday part of my girl’s life.”
Cruz grunted. “That might be harder, especially if your baby’s mom is on the other side of the world.”
“Believe me, I know.”
I might not even get to my kid’s sonogram, and that bothered me. I needed to show Millie, our baby, myself, that I was all in. Why did she move so damn far away?
“Any ideas about what you’ll do?” Cruz asked.
Well, the thought of having a girl was growing on me, for one. But that wasn’t what he was asking.
I tried to ground myself as worries spun through my mind. I knew what I wanted—Millie in my life and my bed, our baby in her room down the hall. But Millie didn’t seem amenable to that, and I didn’t know how to talk her into it. It wasn’t like I planned to give up my job; I loved hockey, and I made great money, thanks to the lucrative contract my agent had put together when I was drafted.
I had to assume Millie didn’t want to give up her job or her career. And it was in Sri Lanka—not a great way for us to share dinner at the table whenever I was in town.
“None.”
“Talk to Coach,” Cruz suggested. “He might help out.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and grunted, hating the idea of getting Coach involved in my personal life. Not after our last “talk.”
“Seriously, Coach knows stuff,” Cruz said.
“Yeah, he’s great at reaming asses.”
“Well, you have been playing like shit for weeks now,” Cruz said.
I winced. He wasn’t wrong. “Maybe I need some positive reinforcement. Ever thought of that?”
“Nah, man.” Cruz shook his head. “We’ve coddled you long enough. You need a fire lit under your ass. Maybe the kid thing is it for you.”
Cruz pulled into our parking garage, and I jumped out of the truck, not interested in a lecture on my shortcomings. “See you tomorrow,” I called over my shoulder as I slammed the door. If Cruz responded, I didn’t hear him.
