by Lili Valente
“Private shit never stays private,” Brendan says. “But sometimes that’s a good thing. I know the baby isn’t here yet, but I’m sure anticipating all the changes you’ll have to make is stressful. That’s all I’m saying. That I get it, and I’m here if you need an ear.”
I rake a clawed hand through my damp hair. “Who told you?”
“Nowicki.” Brendan nods toward the locker room door, where Nowicki is slipping out with a guilty look on his face. “But he wasn’t talking shit. He wanted to help and thought I would be in a better position to offer advice. I heard Amanda’s living with you?”
This time I can’t help but laugh. “Jesus. This team gossips more than my grandmother and her quilting circle.”
“Don’t give Cruise any ideas,” Brendan says. “He’s already trying to make me learn how to knit.”
I roll my eyes. “I know. I sat next to him on the bus last week. I was about to give in and cast on just to get him to shut up.” Stepping into my boots, I drop my duffel by the couch and sag down onto the well-used leather cushions beside Brendan. This couch is a piece of shit, but so comfortable we won’t let management replace it. The couch was here—already old and faded—when I was a rookie, and it will probably be here long after I’m gone.
I run a hand over the creases near the edge of the cushion, wondering when I’ll start to crack. If I can’t even keep my shit together for three or four days of living next door to Mandy, it might not be long.
I sigh. “So yeah, Mandy’s pregnant. It’s mine, and she’s living in my pool house.”
“The pool house.” Brendan grunts. “Okay, so there’s some distance. You aren’t diving in head first before you’ve checked the water.”
“No, but… Well, I wouldn’t mind if she was living a little closer…” If there’s anyone I can confess my weakness to, it’s Brendan. We’re both senior members of the Badgers, and we’ve been through more shit together—on and off the ice—than any other two players on the team. I was there when his daughter was born, drove him to the hospital the day his wife died, and will have the privilege of standing up with him at his second wedding this winter.
If anyone’s going to get what it feels like to want something you’re too afraid to reach for, it’s him.
His brows lift. “Is that right?”
“There’s something about her,” I say softly. There aren’t many people left in the locker room at this point, but this confession isn’t something I want any of them to overhear. I have a reputation as a hard-ass who’s not to be fucked with, and I’d like to maintain it—if nothing else, just to keep the pranks at my expense to a minimum. “I barely know the woman, but every time we’re together there’s this feeling…” I shake my head, fingers curling into a fist as I search for the right words. “Like relief, almost. But stronger, better. It’s just so easy to be with her, even when it’s not easy. If that makes any fucking sense.”
Brendan smiles. “I get it. When there’s something there, it’s there from day one. Like with Laura—she always felt like a friend, someone I could trust, even back when we’d barely spoken a dozen words to each other. Something about her was always familiar.”
“Right,” I say, relieved to hear the crazy things I’ve been feeling validated by someone who doesn’t open up easily or often. “That’s exactly what it’s like. For me, anyway, though I’m pretty sure Mandy wants nothing to do with my ass.”
“Living in your pool house doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like she trusts you, at the very least.”
“I think she does.” I brace my forearms on my knees, guilt tightening my jaw, though I have no reason to feel guilty. I’m not lying to Mandy; I’m protecting her, keeping her safe from worry that would be bad for her and her pregnancy. “And the day she moved in, things definitely got more than friendly, but she shut it down fast. She said we had to think of what’s best for the baby, and what’s best is staying friends so we can be good parents. No sex, no mess, no drama. So…that’s where we are right now. Friendly and strained and awkward as fuck.”
Brendan grunts. “It’s got to be hard, navigating such an intimate situation without the, um…intimacy.”
I nod dryly. “Yeah. I wouldn’t recommend getting a woman you like knocked up before she decides if she likes you back.”
He laughs. “But at least you like her, man. It could be a hell of a lot worse.”
“Oh, I know. Believe me. Some of the women I took home after Renee and I broke up…” I let the words trail off with a shudder.
“I remember. You had some scary low standards during your slutty phase.”
I shrug. “I was drowning my pain in pussy. Pain isn’t picky.”
Brendan claps me on the shoulder. “I was just fucking with you.”
“I know,” I say. “I don’t mind. I can take it.”
“I know you can.” He leans forward, mirroring my hunched position. “You’re one of the toughest people I’ve ever met. You don’t give up, you don’t give in, you don’t back down.”
I shake my head. “But Amanda isn’t a defender from another team or a rookie with a bad attitude.”
“No, she isn’t,” he says. “She’s way scarier than either of those things. But since when do you let fear get in your head?”
My breath rushes out as my lips curve. “Point taken.”
Brendan returns my smile. “Good. And just FYI, being a dad is even scarier than falling for someone new. But in a good way. The best way. You’ll never be the same again.”
I nod, chest flooding with a mixture of fear and anticipation that’s becoming increasingly familiar. “I hear you. But honestly, I’m looking forward it. I’ve wanted this for a long time. To have a family.”
“I know,” Brendan says softly.
He only knows part of the story—the part where Renee had a miscarriage and decided that was a good reason to break off our engagement. I’ve never told anyone but my grandmother the entire sad, sordid tale, but Brendan knows how excited I was about being a father, and things are no different now. If anything, I’m more excited.
My breath rushes out. “Yeah, so as long as Amanda and the baby make it through the delivery safely, and they’re both okay, I’m never going to be anything but happy the kid is here.”
A soft noise from the entrance to the locker room makes both Brendan and I turn.
There in the doorway stands his fiancée and our team’s PR manager, Laura, beaming at us with her hand pressed to her heart. “Alexi Petrov that may be one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard.”
“Overheard,” I correct, glaring in her general direction. “Eavesdropping is a capital offense in some countries, you know.”
Her grin widens in response. “Well, good thing we’re in this country, then, isn’t it, you adorable, tender-hearted thing? I’m so glad I got here in time to drop some eaves on you. Now I know I can book you as a guest coach for the kids’ camp this summer without worrying you’ll terrify the children.”
I curse, and Brendan laughs, slapping me on the back as he stands. “Welcome to my world. This woman pimps me out like it’s going out of style. I can’t remember the last time I had an entire weekend to myself.”
“Oh, cry me a river,” Laura scoffs. “You poor man, having to go out in public and be adored by people who think you’re God’s gift to hockey.”
Brendan joins her at the door, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “I would rather stay home and be adored by my future wife.”
Laura tips her head back, gazing up into his face with such undisguised affection I feel like the one spying in doorways. “That reminds me. My mom said she could babysit this weekend. So we’ll have an entire kiddo-free evening and half the next day to ourselves.”
“Thank God for grandma. I’ve been jonesing for some grown-up alone time.” Brendan bends to kiss Laura’s neck with a growling sound, making her laugh.
“Stop.” She shoves lightly at his arm. “Your beard tickl
es, and we’re grossing Alexi out. I can tell.”
Before I can say that I’m not grossed out—I’m leaving so that they can be in love without an audience—Laura adds, “And Amanda’s waiting in the hall. I just came down to peek into the locker room for her and make sure everyone was decent before she came in.”
“Sorry to interrupt.” The sound of her voice from the hall makes my blood rush faster again as I wonder how much she overheard. “I locked my keys in the car at work and was hoping you had a key to the pool house so I could get in and grab the spare.”
I stand, wiping my suddenly sweating palms on my jeans. “Yeah. No worries, I’ve got the spare. Be right out. Or you can come in. Everyone’s decent.”
“Okay.” Amanda peeks around the doorframe, her big brown eyes sucking me under their spell the way they always do. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” My anxiety fades as she smiles a sweet, secret smile I can tell is just for me.
Whatever she heard, she doesn’t seem upset about it. In fact, she looks more relaxed and unguarded than I’ve seen her in days. Since the afternoon of the Giant Spider Debacle and the subsequent “we should never touch each other again” decision, in fact.
I grab my duffel, slinging it over my shoulder as I head for the door, ignoring the meaningful looks Brendan and Laura shoot my way. I get what those looks mean—they’re rooting for me, for us—but approval from other people doesn’t matter right now. There’s only one person I want to win over.
I stop beside Amanda in the hall, lifting a hand to stop her before she can apologize again. “It’s no trouble at all. I’m happy to help.”
“Thanks.” She rocks back on her heels. “The pregnancy brain is hitting hard this week.” Her stomach growls loud enough to be heard over the floor-polisher whirring at the other end of the hall, making us both laugh. “And the pregnancy belly, too.”
“Then why don’t we get dinner first?” I nod toward the front of the arena. “There are some good places within walking distance, and it sounds like the rain has stopped.”
“It has,” she says, brow furrowing as she motions down at herself. “But are you sure you want to be seen with a woman in stained baby-elephant scrubs? A little boy dropped his grape juice on my lap this afternoon, and my spare scrubs were locked in the car along with the keys, so I wasn’t able to change.”
I debate the wisdom of telling her she’s so beautiful no one would notice if she went out to dinner wearing a garbage bag for a dress. In the end, I decide not to push my luck. “We can find something low key if you’re feeling self-conscious, but I like baby elephants.”
She smiles, eyes twinkling. “Yeah? Even stained ones?”
“Especially those. We should hit the Mexican place on Ninth Street. Their tacos are so huge there’s no way anyone gets out of there without a few stains. You’ll be in good company.”
“Oh man, tacos sound good.” Her lashes flutter as she lets out a soft moan. “I’ve been craving something spicy all day.”
“Perfect. Mucho has a grilled pepper appetizer guaranteed to set your mouth on fire.” I start down the hall, managing not to think about all the ways I would personally like to set this woman on fire.
Yes, I’m attracted to Mandy, but right now I’m just glad to see her relaxed and happy, letting me hold the door for her as we step out into a clear-skied evening without a hint of rain in sight.
Chapter 10
Amanda
*
Heads turn as we step into the small, brightly lit restaurant with at least fifty rainbow-colored piñatas swinging from the ceiling and the hostess leads us to an empty booth at the back. Alexi is obviously and immediately recognized by the ball-cap wearing college boys at the bar against the far wall, but they keep their star-sighting excitement restrained to hushed murmurs and a couple of shots snapped on their cells from across the restaurant.
I tuck my chin to my chest, hiding behind my hair until I’m past the fans and able to slide into the shiny pink upholstered booth with my back to the rest of the diners.
It’s sweet that Alexi doesn’t care what I look like, but I’m keenly aware of the fact that I’m wearing rumpled scrubs and my hair is a frizzy mess from my walk through the rain, while my dinner date is a smoking-hot sex god in designer jeans and a gray sweater that brings out the flecks of mist in his dark eyes. We’re about as well matched as a tuxedo paired with house slippers, and these slippers would just as soon not be recognized or tagged on social media in any of those pics, thank you very much.
“Sorry about that.” Alexi hands me a menu from the holder at the edge of the table before lifting his at an angle that blocks his face. “I’ve found it’s best to ignore it. If I wave or make eye contact, someone will want to take a selfie together or something miserable like that.”
“You hate selfies, too?’ I ask, opening my menu.
“Loathe them. Makes me feel like a trained monkey. When I signed on to play hockey, I didn’t sign on to give a piece of myself to any schmuck with a cell phone who’s looking for a few likes on social media.”
I smile. “I just hate feeling like the fun isn’t real unless we interrupt the fun to take a picture of it. And my left eye is squinchier than my right when I smile, so I worry about that and end up glaring at the camera like a psychopath.”
He laughs. “I doubt that.”
“It’s true,” I say with a sigh. “You’ll see the evidence as soon as Diana shares the pictures from the wedding. But I get where you’re coming from, too. You love the game, not necessarily all the other stuff.”
“I don’t mind the other stuff with someone who’s a real fan,” he says. “I’m happy to take pictures or sign autographs for people who love the team and are excited about the way I play. It’s the people who know jack about hockey and just want a piece of someone famous to use as currency that set my teeth on edge. Especially when I’m just trying to grab dinner or get showered at the gym or something.”
“I understand,” I say, though I’m not sure I do, not in any meaningful way. I’ve never even known anyone famous, let alone been out to dinner with a person other people want to take pictures of.
You did a lot more than go out to dinner with this man, girl, and sooner or later the world is going to find out about it. Someone’s going to figure out that the dumpy, lumpy, potato person Alexi’s been spotted with around town is the one-night-stand who’s having his baby, and you’ll need a lot more to hide behind than your hair or a menu.
My breath rushes out right as my stomach lets out another long, tortured moan—damn drama queen of an organ—and I become acutely aware of how unpleasant it is to be hungry and riddled with anxiety at the same time.
“We can go somewhere else.” Alexi’s concerned eyes meet mine over the top of his menu.
I shake my head. “No way. It’s fine. I’m just thinking too much. Always a bad thing, but especially bad on an empty stomach.”
“What were you thinking about?” he asks.
“About what your fans are going to think of me,” I answer honestly, motioning to where my thickening waistline is hidden beneath the table. “Me and the pregnancy and everything else. I’ve never been in the public eye, and I can imagine at least some of your fans aren’t going to approve.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“I’m the trashy one-night stand who ‘trapped you’ with an unplanned pregnancy.” I lean in to whisper the last two words, just in case the people in the booth behind us are hockey fans, too. “People live to hate that girl. She’s the one girl men and women can both agree is the very worst.”
Alexi lays his menu down flat between us. “It takes two people to make a baby. And I’m a grown man, not a teenager who let himself get led around by the dick. I wasn’t trapped into anything.”
“Well, of course, I know that,” I say, cheeks heating at the mention of the part of his anatomy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since it was pulsing beneath my hand Sunday
afternoon. “But like it or not, that’s the way a lot of people think.”
He grunts, apparently still doubting my woman’s “I know how gossips roll” intuition. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no reason for the fans to know anything about our relationship.”
I cock my head and arch a brow.
His scowl softens, and his lips curve on one side in that half smile that makes my stomach flip every time it comes out from behind the cranky, Russian clouds. “Point taken. So, when the time comes to make a statement, we’ll say that we’re happy to welcome our first child in the spring. ‘First’ implies that we’re in a long-term relationship without giving any specifics about how we met or what our current status is. Hopefully that will be enough to keep speculation to a minimum until something more exciting comes along to distract the gossip rags.”
“Sounds good.” I glance back down at my menu, not wanting him to see the regret I’m so shitty at hiding these days.
Alexi is continuing to be absolutely wonderful, even after the disaster in my bedroom, and I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful just because I have a hard time not wishing that I really was expecting the first of many children. I’ve always wanted at least three or four, lots of babies and lots of sisters and brothers for them to turn to when times get hard.
They say you can’t miss something you’ve never had, but growing up an only child, I can verify that is completely untrue. I missed the siblings I might have had if my mother and father had been able to stay in love a little longer. I missed them like crazy until Diana and I became best friends in elementary school, and I finally had the surrogate sister I had always wanted.
But my baby will probably never have a sister. Or a brother. Or parents who live in the same house and are both there in the middle of the night when she has a nightmare and needs to crawl into bed between two warm, adult bodies big and strong enough to scare the bad dreams away.
“Are you all right?” Alexi asks.
I blink faster. “I’m fine.” I sniff as I run a hand through my hair, surreptitiously wiping the leaking corner of my eye with my thumb while I’m at it. Stupid pregnancy emotions—they’re even worse than my bellyaching stomach. “But I’m overwhelmed by this menu. Is it me, or are twenty different kinds of tacos at least five too many?”