One-Timer (Carolina Comets), page 8
“But you did. You did get mixed up in it, and look where that got you.”
Fuck. He has me there.
I rest my elbows on the counter and drop my head into my hands. I can’t believe I got myself into this situation. Again, technically.
Only this time, it’s real. It’s very real and very fucking scary.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like shit. My face hurts, and I now have a pounding headache and I think my tooth is loose. And I’m—”
“No, not that. About the baby, you idiot.”
Right. That.
That is a whole different barrage of emotions I’m not sure I want to get into this early.
I’m scared.
I’m angry.
I’m worried.
I’m confused.
I’m so many different things, and I’m having a really hard time processing it all.
“I—”
Another loud knock sounds on the door, interrupting me.
Who the hell is it this time?
I look to Collin, and he shrugs. “Beats me.”
I push off the counter and head for the front door. I peel it open, and, for the second time this morning, a fist connects with my face.
“Ow! Son of a bitch!” I cradle my nose, which is now bleeding along with my lip as I stumble back from the impact.
“You stupid fuck!” Rhodes rages, tossing me against the wall just like Collin did. “Are you insane? Do you have a death wish? Do you—”
Movement from down the hall catches his attention. Collin’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the show.
“Don’t mind me,” he says. “Please continue.”
I shove at Rhodes, trying to get the beast of a man off me. He glares up at me, shoving me into the wall once more before letting me go.
I can’t decide if I want to keep my nose covered or rub at the bruise that is no doubt forming on my chest at this point.
“Fuck,” I mutter, looking between them. “Is anyone else going to punch their way into my house today?”
The door, which was never closed, is pushed open, and in steps Miller.
“I won’t hit you, Lowell.” He holds his hands up. “I can’t afford to mess up these silky mitts.”
“Why the hell are you all here so early?”
“Uh, because apparently you’re a dumbass who needed an ass beating, and that’s saying something coming from me,” Miller explains. He shuts the front door, then claps his hands. “So, what’s for breakfast, boys? I’m starving.”
With a sigh, I shake my head and leave them in the hallway while I head to my bedroom for a clean shirt since this one now has bloodstains on it after I got punched in the face twice.
How is it not even eight AM and I’ve already been bloodied and bruised?
After I grab a shirt, I head back to the kitchen. Collin and Rhodes are leaning against the island glaring at me. Miller is helping himself to a pot of coffee but can’t seem to figure out how the filter works.
I shove him out of the way and finish the job, setting the sizing for a full pot and pressing start before turning around to meet the glares of my teammates.
“Harper?” I point at Collin.
He nods.
“Ryan?” I say to Rhodes.
Another nod.
I look at Miller. “Then why the fuck are you here?”
He shrugs. “I was just coming over because I was bored and the summer skate camp isn’t for another few hours. I honestly have no idea what’s going on.”
“It’s like seven in the morning!”
“Are you really going to be mad at a guy for missing his captain?” He juts out his lip, pouting in a way that makes me want to be the third guy to throw a punch today.
Instead, I just roll my eyes at him and turn to grab the now-finished coffee. I grab two mugs—because fuck Collin and Rhodes—from the cabinet above the pot, pour a cup for me and a cup for Miller, and slide one his way.
“Thanks,” he says, taking a loud sip. “So, what’d I miss?”
His innocence makes us all chuckle.
“Dipshit over here”—Rhodes hitches his thumb my way—“slept with Harper’s sister at the wedding.”
“You dirty dog, you.” Miller smirks at me, shaking his head. “Thought she was too crazy for you?”
I don’t answer him. The only person who is crazy at this point is me for thinking what we did was a good idea.
“That’s not all,” Collin adds. “She’s pregnant.”
Miller gasps. “No way! Did you not wrap it?”
I toss my head back on a groan. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Of course I did!”
“Not well enough, apparently. You gotta double up and shit.”
Rhodes shoots Miller a concerned look. “You do not double up. Ever. Do you do that?”
“Uh…n-no,” Miller says, not sounding the least bit convincing.
I’m not even touching that right now. I don’t have the energy. I have my own problems to be dealing with.
“What are you going to do?” Miller asks the million-dollar question they are all wanting an answer for.
Fuck. What am I going to do? I wasn’t looking for this and certainly wasn’t prepared. Hell, I went to dinner with Hollis half-expecting to get my dick wet at the end of the evening. I didn’t expect this major, life-changing bomb to be dropped on me.
So, what am I going to do?
Long term? I don’t have a clue. That’s not entirely up to me.
But I know what I need to do short term, and that’s apologize to Hollis…if she’ll let me.
I look at Collin and Rhodes, who are both staring at me, waiting to hear what I have to say. I swallow the lump that’s been hanging out in my throat since yesterday, then blow out a heavy breath.
“I guess I have a phone call to make.”
9
HOLLIS
After we left things at the restaurant the other night, the last thing I expected this morning was to receive a call from Lowell asking if he could come over.
I told him no at first because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to deal with the stress of seeing him before my appointment this afternoon, but he insisted on it and eventually I caved. Which is why I’m currently standing in front of my mirror in my third outfit of the morning trying to talk myself out of changing again.
Part of my brain is screaming that I should wear that leather mini skirt I bought two months ago because pretty soon I’m going to be too big to even get it up past my hips, but I know that’s completely impractical.
If it wasn’t for nausea and headaches and hormonal changes, you wouldn’t know I was pregnant. Everything looks the same, though I know that’s not going to be the case in the coming months.
I don’t know how I feel about that yet, seeing my body change like it’s going to. I know some women love being pregnant and love the way their bodies look while others loathe it. I wonder where I’ll fall on the spectrum.
I tuck two rolled-up pairs of socks into my bra, then grab a pillow off my bed and stuff it under my shirt. I check myself out in the mirror, trying to imagine what I’ll look like waddling around with a little human inside of me.
It’ll be…different, that’s for sure. I’m going to look like a whole different person. Hell, I’m going to be a whole different person. That’s hard to reconcile sometimes.
A knock sounds at the door, pulling me from my thoughts.
Shit! Lowell.
My heart rate picks up and my palms start to feel sticky. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t feel this way about the man whose baby I’m carrying, but I do.
I’m nervous because he makes me nervous.
I’m nervous because I have no idea how this conversation is going to go.
I’m just…nervous.
I pull the pillow from my stomach and toss it to the bed before darting for the front door. I take a deep, calming breath, brushing a hand through my hair. When I feel like I’m not going to pass out, I pull it open.
Collecting my breath was a smart move because the moment my eyes land on Lowell, he steals it back. He’s just so…magnetic. I don’t want to be drawn to him. I don’t want him to be north and me to be south.
He’s wearing a simple light gray shirt and a pair of jeans that hug his thighs just a little too well. There’s a baseball cap slung backward on his head, and he’s sporting what looks like a fresh cut on his lip that I want to ask him about.
When I reach those green eyes that make me feel all kinds of things I don’t understand, I find that he’s looking at me with a searching gaze, like he’s looking for any indication I’m going to slam the door in his face.
I won’t…yet.
Instead, I move aside, allowing him to pass. The moment he steps over the threshold, I breathe again.
I close the door behind him, leaning against it because all of a sudden I’m feeling lightheaded. I don’t know if it’s from being close to him or just being plain exhausted, something I am more than not lately.
He looks around the small apartment, and I realize then this place must be laughable compared to wherever he lives. He’s a freaking hockey player. He probably has a mansion…or two.
When he’s done with his perusing, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks at me. His eyes do a slow scroll of my body, starting at my feet, going all the way up. He inspects me closely, not missing a single inch, like he’s looking for any sign that I truly am pregnant. I want to tell him I’m not showing yet, but before I can get the words out, he grins.
“Well, those grew a lot faster than I expected.”
My brows pinch together, and I look down.
Oh god.
My cheeks are on fire as I reach into my bra, pluck the rolled-up socks out, and toss them onto the couch.
“I was…practicing.”
“Having tits?”
I glare at him, pushing off the door and heading into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Uh, yeah. Vodka if you got it.” I send him a look, and he laughs. “I was kidding. Though a drink does sound good right now. I’m, uh, kind of nervous.”
“You? Mr. NHL Superstar, nervous?”
He grins at the nickname as he takes a seat at the little breakfast nook. “Hockey players do get nervous, you know.”
“Huh. Would have figured you’d be used to the pressure by now.”
“This kind of pressure is a bit different.”
“That’s fair.” I pull open the fridge and reach for the container of orange juice. “I don’t have vodka, but I have mixer.”
“Mixer works too.”
I grab two glasses from the cabinet and pour each of us a cup. It’s funny because I’ve never been a huge orange juice person, but for some reason, it’s almost all I want to drink these days.
I slide a glass Lowell’s way, then return the juice to the fridge before grabbing my own glass and leaning back against the counter.
“Should you be standing?”
My eyes fall to slits. “Fair warning, there are many sharp objects in this kitchen I can stab you with.”
“I will take that into consideration.” He smirks at me over the rim of his orange juice before taking a sip, wincing at the sting of the acidity on the cut in his lip.
“What happened to your face?” I ask.
“Collin.”
I lift my brows, surprised.
“And Rhodes,” he adds.
“Because of…?”
He shifts uncomfortably on the stool, not meeting my eyes when he says, “You.”
Ah. So that’s why he called me up—because Collin and Rhodes made him, not because he actually cares.
“They aren’t why I called, though,” he says like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “I was going to call before they…well…” He motions to his face, then clears his throat. “I just didn’t really know what to say.”
“And now you do?”
“No.” He laughs humorlessly. “Not a damn clue, but I couldn’t just sit by and let you think bad thoughts about me either.”
“I wasn’t thinking bad thoughts about you.”
It’s not a total lie.
Did I think he was a dick for questioning the legitimacy of my accidental pregnancy? Most definitely. But…I also understood. Given the way we met, I’m not entirely sure I can blame him for lashing out during an emotional moment.
He lifts his cap off his head, then scrubs a hand through his deep brown hair before replacing it. He sighs. “I, uh, was engaged before.”
My brows shoot up because this is very much news to me, especially given how much he protested weddings.
“It was several years ago. I was seeing this girl for about eight months, and it was pretty serious, you know.” He shrugs. “I loved her.”
He chugs the rest of his orange juice, then gets up and heads for the sink. He rinses the glass out, sticks it in the dishwasher. I watch him move around my kitchen as if he lives here too, and I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that I don’t exactly hate it.
When he’s finished, he turns to me, resting his back against the counter opposite me. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I do my best to ignore the way his shirt stretches over his muscles as he stares a hole into the floor.
“I proposed when she got pregnant.”
My eyes snap to him, surprised.
Is he…already a father?
“We made the engagement announcement, planned the wedding…the whole thing. I was happy. I was excited. I wanted the wife and the baby and future. Four months.” His lips pull tight, and he shakes his head once before finally looking me in the eye. “It took me four months to learn she was lying.”
The pain in his eyes is so clear, and I have the urge to cross the kitchen and wrap my arms around him. Whoever this woman is, she did a number on him, and it really makes me hate her for hurting him.
“She was never pregnant. She just wanted me to propose and shotgun the wedding so I couldn’t back out. And I bought it, you know? I was so young and stupid and in love that I bought it. I didn’t question a thing. All of her doctor’s appointments were on days I had games, and I never once thought to question it because who actually thinks the person they love is out to screw them over like that?”
He stares at me but not really at me. It’s more like he’s staring through me, like he’s back there in the past and hearing all over again that she lied to him.
He looks so…broken.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say quietly, and he snaps out of whatever haze he’s in.
He sniffles a few times, then shakes himself off like he’s shaking off the memories.
“It’s why I assumed the worst about you—because I’ve been there before—but I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have put my past on you like that. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
I nod. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Thank you for not lying.” He narrows his eyes. “Right?”
“I’d say my morning sickness the other night was a pretty good indication that no, I am not lying.”
He nods a few times. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you’re in this situation.”
“I’m sorry, too. I definitely did not plan this.”
He gives a halfhearted chuckle. “I definitely didn’t either.”
I finish off the rest of my orange juice, and he takes the cup from me, rinsing it and placing it in the dishwasher as well. I’m struck again by how comfortable he seems to be in my apartment and how much it doesn’t bother me. Normally if somebody came over here and started acting like this was their place too, I’d be annoyed, but—and maybe it’s because I’m carrying his baby—I don’t feel that way with Lowell.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Tired, nauseous. Like I have to pee a lot. I keep having weird dreams of blonde babies who are babies but also look like old people.” I shudder. “It’s weird.”
I don’t tell him the other recurring dream I’ve been having because it’s about him. I keep dreaming that he offers to pay me a million dollars to take my baby and leave, to never contact him and to never, ever breathe a word of it to anyone. It’s had me waking up crying the last two nights, but I keep that to myself.
He laughs. “And about the baby? How are you feeling about that?”
“Scared,” I say honestly. “Like really, really scared. But also…okay.” He nods like he understands. “And you? How do you feel…about the baby?”
“Scared. Like really, really scared,” he echoes.
I smile because it comforts me that he’s also terrified by this new adventure we got ourselves into.
“When did you find out?”
“Officially? On Monday. Unofficially? Last Friday.”
“How?”
“Hazelnut lattes and egg sandwiches.”
He tips his head, brows drawn together. “Hazelnut lattes and egg sandwiches?”
“Yep. I was sitting at Cup of Joe’s, and the smell of those two things was so overwhelming that I vomited in my laptop bag. Honestly, if it weren’t for the old lady who commented on it, I wouldn’t have thought twice, and I still might not even know today. My period hasn’t been normal for a while because of all the stress with the divorce and everything, and since we used protection, I never even suspected I might be pregnant.”
I feel kind of stupid for not being more in tune with my body or questioning why I hadn’t had a period in months, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.
My phone buzzes against the counter, and I know what it is before I even look. I cross the kitchen to check it and can feel Lowell’s eyes on me the entire time.
“Did you need to take that?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It’s not a phone call, it’s an alarm. I have an appointment.”
“For the baby?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“And you’re going now?” I nod again. He pushes off the counter. “I’m coming with you.”
