by Anna Sugden
“Back off, man,” Kenny interjected. “Bella being pregnant isn’t great news, but it’s hardly J.B.’s fault.”
Mad Dog turned on him. “I bet numb nuts here hasn’t told you he denied the baby was his and accused Bella of trying to pass off someone else’s child as his.”
“It’s not like it hasn’t happened to him before,” Kenny said in an effort to be peacemaker.
J.B. was grateful for Kenny’s support, but he knew that would probably waver once he heard the whole story of how the evening had gone down.
“I know. I even got why he accused her of getting pregnant deliberately. I defended him to Bella.” Taylor’s lip curled. “Until she told me he announced her pregnancy in front of one of the parents of her pupils—which will cost Bella her job.”
“Hey, I didn’t do it deliberately.” J.B. felt terrible. “I didn’t see the woman.”
“Nothing’s ever your fault, is it?”
Mad Dog’s remark spiked J.B.’s irritation. “Why would I want Bella to lose her job?”
“What have you done to put it right?”
“What can I do?” J.B. shot back.
“Taking responsibility for your actions would be a good start.”
“I was completely open with Bella about not wanting a relationship. Nothing’s changed just because she’s pregnant.”
“As usual, someone else has to clean up your mess.” Taylor threw up his hands. “This time, it won’t be me.”
“Afraid it’ll screw up your sessions with your little bed buddy?” J.B. sneered.
“When will you grow up?” Mad Dog scoffed. “Bella’s better off without you. She doesn’t need to take care of two kids,” he tossed over his shoulder as he left.
If Bella was so much better off without him, why the hell was everyone so ticked that he didn’t want to get involved?
Kenny crossed his arms over his chest. “Not your finest hour.”
J.B. puffed out a frustrated breath. “I can’t get it right tonight, whichever way I turn. All I’ve tried to do is be honest, but I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Hell, the only reason that stupid woman overheard us was because I tried to help Bella when she twisted her ankle.”
“Emotions are bound to run high,” his friend said sagely. “It’s not like Bella can walk away from the pregnancy.”
“Sure, she can. She can give it up for adoption.” Even as he said it, he knew that wasn’t an option. “Scratch that. She isn’t like that.”
A strange sense of relief tugged at him.
“You’re right. It’s harder for her than it is for me. Worse, if the school fires her.”
“Right. But all of that works in your interest, because it makes her more likely to accept money from you. Which means you can dictate your terms. So what do you want?”
“I don’t know. She only told me tonight. Why am I expected to have answers already?”
“Because you usually have a smart-assed response to everything?”
J.B. glared at his friend. “Not helping.”
Kenny held out his hands, palms up. “You don’t have to make up your mind tonight. Bella will be pregnant for at least six more months. The key is that you have the right to make a decision about the child’s future and your involvement in it.”
J.B. could feel the chains of responsibility winding around him tighter and tighter, almost suffocating him.
Kenny continued. “That kid is your son or daughter, too. It’s an indisputable biological fact. The only way Bella can cut you out of his or her life is if you want it. Similarly, if you want to be included in your child’s life, she can’t stop you. The ball is in your court.”
His friend’s words triggered a moment of realization. The baby was J.B.’s, too. His son or daughter. Somehow, until that moment, the significance of that fact hadn’t really registered.
Kenny was right. It didn’t have to be all or nothing from day one. If—when—the Cats finished their successful Cup campaign, the child would be less than a year old. If they tried to go back-to-back, the kid still wouldn’t even be two. What could a child know about his father at that age? Surely it was more important for J.B. to be around as his child grew older.
In a few years J.B. might be ready for a commitment. He’d be able to find the time to teach his kid to skate or toss a ball, go to a game, take a trip. Stuff they’d both enjoy.
All he had to do was buy himself time while keeping his options open. The best way to do that was, as Kenny had said, to provide Bella with an offer she couldn’t refuse. Easy. Financial security. That, conveniently, was the one thing J.B. was more than happy to give her.
Problem solved. He’d work out the details tomorrow.
J.B. clapped Kenny on the back. “I’ve earned a beer. Want one?”
“Sure.”
As they walked downstairs, Kenny said, “Tell me about Bella. I know she’s a teacher and that’s it. Does she have a last name? Where does she live?”
J.B. stopped dead and swore. “I don’t know.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
FARLINGDALE ACADEMY MIGHT have moved slower than an impending Ice Age about Issy’s promotion, but they’d been slick as greased lightning about firing her. From the moment she’d told them—Issy had preempted Mrs. Allardyce and gone straight to the principal before school had opened on Monday morning—to the moment she’d left her classroom for the final time, on Friday afternoon, everything had moved at warp speed.
“Hypocritical jerks,” Sapphie raged as she paced Issy’s living room on Saturday evening. “Like those board members are perfect themselves. You should fight to get them to reinstate you. I’ll back you and we’d win.”
Issy had seen how vicious previous fights with the board had been and how badly it had affected the teachers who’d stood up to them. The thought turned her stomach.
“Even if I could afford to take them on, it’s not worth the stress. They don’t trust me and I don’t trust them. Plus, I don’t want to work for a school that doesn’t value me or my work. I’d rather put this behind me and move on. I have to—for my sake and the baby’s.”
Sapphie sat next to Issy on the sofa and put an arm around her shoulder. “I don’t blame you. Nonetheless, the whole thing sucks. Private school or not, that morality clause is freaking archaic. Hollywood of a century ago, not modern-day New Jersey.”
“When I signed my contract, I never believed in a million years I’d get caught out by that clause. Especially not this wa-ay.” Issy’s voice broke on the last word.
“You’ve survived worse. You’ll get through this, too.”
Sapphie’s unwavering support kept Issy from spiraling into despair. The uncertainty of her future terrified her. Not only because she’d lost her job, her only source of income and the bedrock of her security—though that was scary enough—but also because this was the first time she had no clear direction for her life. The plan she’d laid out for herself when she’d left home.
Worse, she no longer had only herself to worry about.
Issy started to lay her hand on her still-flat stomach but stopped. The superstitious side of her believed she should get past the critical date at the end of the first trimester before creating an emotional bond with her baby. Foolish really, because she’d already acknowledged the reality of her pregnancy and was committed to bringing this child into the world. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to make that simple physical connection.
“What am I going to do?” She fought to keep the panic out of her voice.
“What do you want to do?”
“I suppose I need a plan.”
“That I can help you with.” Sapphie switched instantly into business mode. “Before you create a plan, you need to decide what your goal is.”
“That’s the problem. What do I want to achieve?” Uncertainty shrouded her future like an impenetrable fog.
Sapphie thought for several moments. “Stability. Security. And you want to give your baby the loving, happy
, stable and secure childhood you never had.”
Instead of making her feel better, the task ahead seemed overwhelming. “How on earth am I supposed to achieve all that?”
“One step at a time. One issue at a time.”
Sapphie’s calm, confident tone eased some of Issy’s panic. No wonder her friend’s business was so successful.
“Where do I start?”
“With the thing that worries you most.”
“I don’t have a job. Without it, I have no money.” Her voice rose in pitch as her words spilled out faster and faster. “Without money, I have no secur—”
Sapphie held up a hand, interrupting her. “Whoa. Stop a minute and breathe.”
That didn’t stop the problems careening around in her head like bumper cars at a fairground.
“So the biggest issue is financial security,” Sapphie said. “We’ve already talked about you finding another job or part-time work. At least the principal at Farlingdale promised to give you a good reference.”
“To be fair, she stood up to the board and defended me, too, but was ignored.”
Sapphie’s wry look gave her opinion of that. “The point is that you are in a good position to find the work you want. That means we only have to think about how to ensure you have enough money to last you through the interim.”
“I have a small amount left in my savings. It won’t last long. Not with mortgage payments and bills. Getting a bank loan will be almost impossible.”
“You know I can—”
“I’m grateful, but we’ve been through this before. I won’t take your money.”
“Promise me that if things get tight, you’ll let me lend you what you need.”
Knowing Sapphie wouldn’t rest until she promised, Issy agreed. “But only if I’m desperate. And I’ll want to repay every penny.”
“Naturally. I’m not a charity.”
Bold words, but Issy knew her friend would be as stubborn about accepting repayment as she was about loaning it. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Sapphie paused. “There’s another source of financial support you should consider.”
“No way.” She’d rather be destitute than ask him for help. “I don’t want anything from Jean-Baptiste Larocque. He made it clear how he feels about me and the baby. I can’t believe you’d even raise it after the way he reacted.”
“I know he was a real jerk, but now that he’s had time to get his head out of his backside, he’s had a change of heart.”
“Puh-lease.” Issy’s laugh had a cynical edge. “You’ll tell me next he’s sprouted wings and a shiny halo.”
“No, but he has been trying to find out how to get hold of you. Apparently he doesn’t have your contact information.”
“We never exchanged details.”
“And you never told him your name isn’t Bella.”
Issy avoided her friend’s gaze. “What does he want?”
“To apologize. He also wants to try to find a way forward for you both.”
“Now he wants to be involved in my baby’s life?”
“I don’t know if he’s only thinking of financial support or more than that, but he wants to talk. It’s up to you.”
Issy was about to say no, but Sapphie’s expression held her back.
“What have you got to lose?” Sapphie pressed. “If you don’t like what he has to say, tell him to get lost.”
“What if what he says makes sense?” Could she stand having J.B. in her life? Knowing his feelings about responsibility and commitment, what kind of role could he play? Given they had no possibility of a future together, did she want him to play any role?
Sapphie added, “If nothing else, J.B. could provide you with financial security. Even if only in the short term.”
Issy had barely started to get used to the idea of being a single parent. “Let me think about it... I suppose Taylor’s the one who talked you into raising this with me. What’s going on with you two?”
“We’re friends.” She shrugged. “With benefits.”
Issy didn’t understand how that worked. It wouldn’t for her. She couldn’t envision seeing anyone regularly, let alone sleeping with him, and not wanting more. Look at how quickly she’d fallen for J.B. “Wouldn’t you like it to be more?”
“Not really.” For the first time a hint of uncertainty appeared in Sapphie’s eyes, but she quickly masked it. “No,” she said firmly. “Not with my lifestyle—my work, the travel. My business is too important. And Taylor feels the same way about his career. That’s why this works. For both of us.”
Issy thought her friend protested a little too much.
* * *
THE PUCK CLANGED off the pipe and onto J.B.’s stick.
He shot a crisp pass to Juergen on the right-hand side of the blue line, who then flew up the ice, with J.B. and Kenny flanking him, on a three-on-two. Monty, the backup goaltender, shifted to the edge of his crease, anticipating Juergen’s shot. But the Swede used a no-look pass to drop the puck back to J.B., who slotted it home through Monty’s five-hole.
Before he could celebrate with his linemates, J.B. was knocked on his butt by a late check. He didn’t need to look up to know who’d laid him out. This was the second time in the past half hour.
“What the hell is your problem?” J.B. snarled as he got up.
When Taylor didn’t respond, J.B. skated up and got in his face. “Spit it out, dickhead.”
“Just finishing my check.” Taylor shrugged.
“Bull crap. The puck was long gone. It was already in the back of the freaking net and you know it.” J.B. shoved Mad Dog.
“Stop being a wuss.” Taylor pushed him back. “I barely touched you. I can’t help it if you lost your footing and landed on your candy ass.”
“This is a practice. It. Doesn’t. Freaking. Count.” He jabbed Mad Dog to emphasize each word. “Are you trying to injure me before tomorrow night’s game against the Leafs?”
“Do not poke me.” Taylor swiped J.B.’s hand away. “Ass hat,” he muttered as he turned to skate to the bench.
J.B. grabbed his friend’s sweater and pulled him back. “What did you say?”
Taylor wrenched away from J.B.’s hold. “Get your freaking hands off me.”
“Why are you being such a jerk?” He didn’t understand Mad Dog’s attitude. J.B. thought they’d moved on from their argument in the gym the previous week.
“You can talk.”
“Enough.” J.B. smacked Taylor in the logo. “Tell me what your freaking problem is or back the hell off.”
“I told you not to touch me,” Mad Dog growled before ripping off his gloves.
J.B. dropped his gloves, then threw the first punch, catching his friend on the jaw. The work he’d been doing with his fitness boxing trainer, Prince, was paying off, he thought just before Mad Dog’s right hook smashed into his left cheek.
J.B. narrowed his gaze, raised his hands slightly to protect his face, then hit out again, harder this time. His fist connected with Mad Dog’s jaw with a satisfying thud, making his friend’s head snap back.
Taylor wobbled on his skates but recovered quickly. He retaliated by swinging wildly at J.B., landing a punch to the side of his head.
The rat-tat-tat of sticks tapping against the boards echoed around the rink as their teammates stopped what they were doing to watch.
The two of them circled each other slowly, exchanging blows, watching for the moment to take the other man down.
Coach Macarty blew his whistle. “Knock it off. Whatever problems you’ve got, fix them on your own time.” He glared at both players. “And if you can’t get it straightened out by tomorrow’s morning skate, don’t bother showing up, because you’ll both be healthy scratches. Capisce?”
“Yes, Coach,” Taylor and J.B. said together.
Macarty pointed to the bench. “Get your asses off the ice and let the grown-ups work.”
J.B. and Taylor picked up their gloves and sticks, skated to t
he bench and parked their backsides away from the rest of the team. Mad Dog grabbed a bottle and squirted water over his head. J.B. drank from his own bottle before resting his chin on his arm, which was propped on the butt end of his stick.
“Thanks for that, numb nuts.” J.B. heaved a sigh. “The best practice I’ve had in weeks and you blew it for me.”
“Yeah, yeah. As usual, it’s all about you.”
“What have I done to piss you off?”
“Like you don’t know.”
J.B. racked his brain but came up with zip. “I don’t. You weren’t this ticked about how badly I screwed up Bella telling me she was pregnant. What could be worse than that?”
“If you care so much about doing right by Bella, how come you spent last night screwing Susie again?”
Realization dawned.
And it was true.
He’d fully intended to spend the night taking advantage of the former cheerleader’s flexibility with some hot gymnastics, but he hadn’t been able to go through with it.
The whole situation had felt weird. Wrong. Like he was cheating on Bella.
“It wasn’t like that,” J.B. said quietly. “Nothing...happened.”
Mad Dog barked out a laugh. “Right. Nothing happened between Jean-Baptiste Larocque and a woman.”
That made him angry. “Keep your damn voice down.” J.B. elbowed him. “What does it matter, anyway? You won’t give me Bella’s phone number or address. Hell, you won’t even tell me her full name. So if I sleep with other women, that’s nobody’s business but mine.”
“That’s exactly why we’re protecting her from you.” Taylor snorted. “We don’t trust you.”
“Keep your damn voice down.”
Taylor and J.B. stared at each other from their opposite ends of the bench.
Finally his friend shrugged and broke eye contact. “Looks like you’ll have a shiner on that eye.”
J.B. turned to watch the players on the ice. “How’s your mouth? Did I shake any teeth loose?”
“Nah.” Out of the corner of his eye, J.B. saw Taylor wiggle his lower jaw. “I’ll survive.”