Hard Checked: Ice Kings, #4

by Lynn, Stacey

  “You get anywhere with her yet?”

  Klaus and Jillian have been best friends for several years. They met at a signing we put on in South Park mall. She works for the company that has signed most of us to handle our promo gear. They provide the jerseys and hockey pucks and mature hockey sticks and we sign them and smile pretty for the camera.

  Since that day, Jillian and Klaus have always been close. But I’ve seen the way he looks at her. I know he wants more. It’s not the first or the thirtieth time I’ve asked him this question and every time he rolls his eyes and repeats, “We’re just friends.”

  “We’re friends,” he says, on cue.

  I roll my eyes and plop down into my seat as more teammates pass by. “Where we going out tonight?”

  I ask it loud, for anyone who’s planned anything. Across the aisle and a few rows up, Duke Fletcher throws his fist in the air and declares we’re taking over the hotel bar.

  Good enough for me.

  For the first time in a long time, I’m ready to party and not drown my sorrows.

  I’m in a pretty damn good place right now.

  It’ll be even better once I can figure out what’s going on with Gigi. Take care of that, and then move us forward, closer… perhaps end this charade of free and easy during the season.

  Playoffs start in two weeks and I can’t think of anyone else I want at my side, cheering me on.

  * * *

  I’ve had too much to drink. Not enough to risk passing out in a woman’s bed without remembering in the morning. Not enough to pass out in the elevator. I’m aware enough to know when I needed to stop tonight and I was having a good enough time with the guys that that was a while ago. Instead, I joined in seeing Mikah Lutzgo get drunk.

  At twenty-three, he’s the youngest player on our team. Sometimes that means we’re dicks to him. Other times it means we’re protective big brothers.

  I’ve played both roles tonight which is why I have my arm thrown over his shoulders, propping him up as I get him back to his room.

  “Holy shit, that was nucking futs.”

  “I think you got that wrong,” he says.

  “No. No. I said it right.”

  “Hm. It does not make sense to me,” Mikah slurs.

  He’s only lived in the States a few years. Lots of things don’t make sense to him, especially American slang. If he was more sober, I’d spend time explaining the joke.

  “How is Angelo?” He has a baby that has to be getting close to a year old or something now. It was dropped off at his doorstep, a one-night stand producing lifelong consequences.

  He’s loved him from the minute he showed up. I’m pretty sure that threw Madison over the edge for months. It might have been the final downfall of us before the final final downfall.

  Whichever. I kick the thought out of my mind.

  He grins up at me drunkenly and stupidly. Mikah doesn’t drink much or very often. Which is part of what made tonight so fun. I probably shouldn’t have bought him the last shot. But every man needs a slippery nipple every once in a while.

  “You and Paisley are getting married soon, aren’t you?” I don’t pay that much attention to other guys’ relationships, but when Mikah fell for his neighbor in his building, he fell hard and fast. And Paisley is sweet. They’d planned on waiting until she was done with graduate school but then decided not to.

  Mostly, I’m just trying to keep Mikah from passing out in my arm so I’m trying to keep him talking.

  His brows pull together and he shoves off me. “Yeah.”

  “Hey. I’m happy for you.”

  By now, the entire team knows what’s been going on with me. Only took Jason running his mouth and definitely after I took off for Minnesota months back. I get strange looks sometimes, when the guys talk about their wives or girlfriends.

  They don’t bother me anymore. Not because I’m drunk.

  Because I have Gigi. At least…I think? Shit. I need to sober up so I can call her. All night long at the bar we’ve been hanging out, chilling, drinking way too much and eating probably all the food they have in the kitchen. While the time with the guys is a blast, so much like it used to be before I became a grumpy asshole, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

  “Thank you,” Mikah says. We stop at his door, and I wait for him to dig out his keycard. It takes longer than it should.

  I prop myself on the doorframe while he fumbles with his wallet.

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “August? I think? She is planning everything, and I am too drunk to think straight.”

  “You’re too drunk to walk straight,” I remind him. I take the keycard out of his hands. He’s now tried to open the door at least three times and keeps getting the pesky red light. It takes me two times and when the light turns green, I open the door for him. “There you go, kid.”

  “I am not a kid,” he mumbles, but he’s already walking into his room, stripping off his shirt before it closes behind him.

  “Drink water!” The door slams in my face and my vision blurs in front of me. Hopefully, he heard me.

  Getting Mikah to his room took longer than I expected. Duke will be back to our room at some point. I left the bar early so I can have time alone with Gigi. The last thing I want is my FaceTime call going the way I want it to when Duke stumbles back into the room.

  It takes me almost as long to open my door as it did Mikah and I pull a repeat of him when I walk through, stripping out of my dress shirt before the door is fully closed behind me.

  Even though I quit drinking a while ago, I grab a bottle of water from the mini-bar and settle down into my bed.

  It’s one o’clock in the morning and we’re two hours behind North Carolina. Hopefully she’s awake.

  Lucky for me, my phone only rings once before it’s connecting, and then Gigi’s sweet, but tired face is blurred on the screen. She has her makeup washed off, hair piled on top of her head so chunks of her teal tips fly out in every which direction.

  She’s covering a yawn as her photo clears and we have a decent connection.

  “Hey. Did I wake you?”

  “No.” She moves a bit and I catch the hanging behind her bed, and my groin notices. She’s in her bed. Probably wearing one of those skintight tanks of hers. Barely there shorts. Possibly no panties. Definitely no bra. “I was waiting up for you. Congratulations.”

  I’m still stuck on the possible no bra part, so it takes me a minute. “Right. Thanks. Sorry I’m late calling. Guys wanted to go party.”

  Her sleepy eyes crinkle at the corners. “You deserved it. Have fun?”

  “I did. We got Mikah too drunk.”

  “Not nice,” she says, but she’s grinning. A cute little laugh follows her schooling.

  “He’ll deal. Mostly I thought of you and wished you were here with me.”

  Her eyes widen, surprised at the admission. This week has been… weird, to say the least. I thought after she came to the game she’d get that I want more. But then it seems like she pulled back.

  So maybe I’m the one who’s gotten wires twisted. Maybe she really does want easy.

  “That’s sweet. I watched all your games.” She scoots back on the bed and yawns again, covering it with her hand with that broken heart tattoo and fingernails that are hot pink. “I’m sorry. Long day.”

  “Everything okay?”

  She drops her hand and the typical, excited glimmer in her pretty eyes dims. Gigi almost always looks like she’s having the time of her life. There’s a sparkle in them that draws me to her, that pulled me in, and now it’s missing. Especially when she doesn’t answer right away.

  “Hey. What is it? You can talk to me, you know?”

  “I know. It’s… nothing. We can talk tomorrow. When you get back?”

  For the first time since we started hanging out, I get the distinct impression she’s lying to me. Or brushing me off.

  Either way, my chest constricts, like a fist is squeezing it,
bringing back more pain than I’ve felt in several months.

  I don’t want her to leave. I want her to trust me. I want to know what all her looks mean. All her thoughts—good and bad. Tonight isn’t the night to press. She’s tired. I’ve been drinking.

  “Our plane gets in at one. Can I see you?”

  “Yeah. I can meet you at your place?”

  “Sure. You’re always welcome there.” This conversation isn’t going at all like I want it to, but as she fights against another yawn, this time I notice the dark rings under her eyes. She is exhausted. “I should let you go; let you get to sleep.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to talk more, but like I said… long day.”

  “I get it, Gigi. No worries. See you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be there.” She grins and that grin disappears as she bites her lip. It’s a nervous gesture, one that catches me by surprise. She always seems so sure of herself. “And I missed you this week. A lot.”

  That fist squeezing my heart finally loosens. Finally. I sigh and my shoulders slump. “I missed you too, Gigi. Probably just as much.”

  Her smile wobbles and she blows me a kiss. “Good night, Sebastian.”

  “Good night, sweetheart.”

  The last thing I see is her eyes blinking in surprise.

  Sweetheart.

  I’ve teased her with Georgia even though she finally admitted she doesn’t really like the name, but unlike her nickname for her, I’ve never given her one.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll talk. I’ll figure out what happened this week, and then we’ll move forward.

  Hopefully, together.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gigi

  My sandals click a rapid staccato beat on Sebastian’s wood floor. I arrived early, hoping being in his home again before him will help me gather my thoughts and everything I need to tell him.

  I’m pregnant.

  How exactly am I supposed to tell him this when he doesn’t think he can even make children and we’re not even really together? There’s no denying the grainy little gray blob on the small picture in my back pocket though.

  It’s been a week from hell. Between an all-day exhaustion setting in that makes me feel like I’m walking through a constant fog, and decisions I’ve made with my dad regarding the bar, everything has gone wrong.

  Everything is changing all over again and a part of me, a large part, wants to do exactly what I did the last time things didn’t turn out the way I imagined.

  I want to slide on my running shoes and flee. I’d probably only get a mile away before I collapse from the exhaustion my body constantly feels, but I still want to run.

  The only thing keeping me from doing it so far is needing to tell Sebastian. He has to know.

  I only wish I knew how he was going to respond to this. I’ve imagined a thousand different scenarios this week. Multiple endings.

  Only a couple of them end happily and the way I want to.

  It’s probably foolish. Completely.

  We’re not going to go from walks in parks and messing around to living together in a matter of months. And I don’t want that just because I’m pregnant either.

  Plus, there’s so much that could happen before this baby is born. But there is no doubt, this baby is being born, assuming nothing bad happens over the next eight months.

  On the couch, Bruiser sighs and stretches. He chased my ankles and my pacing for the first thirty minutes and then, with his little pink tongue lolling out of his mouth, decided a nap was a better use of his time. I’ve gone pee twice. Chugged two bottles of water and then dug through Sebastian’s pantry for some crackers. I’m not nauseous, at least not majorly but too much water on an empty stomach doesn’t feel so great these days.

  My doctor assures me it’s normal, and only the beginning.

  I just pray this isn’t the beginning of the end for Sebastian and me.

  This potential tailspin of a day would have been so much more comfortable if I could have done it at my place, but it’ll be easier to do it here. If he breaks my heart, I can leave.

  Besides, if this is to be my last time welcome here, I wanted to see his home one last time. As it is, I’ve gotten here early enough, already being given his security code before. In all my pacing, I’ve taken a trip through the house. And I can’t help imagining being here. With Sebastian. Our child.

  Raising him or her together.

  Tears burn my eyes as I drop my hand to my stomach. There’s nothing there, not yet, but I’ve found myself doing it a lot this week.

  I’m having a baby. My vision blurs and I swipe my tears with the back of my hand.

  God. This is so amazing and so horrible. My stomach churns as I anticipate Sebastian’s arrival. If his plane arrived on time at one, he should be home any minute. I head to his hall bathroom to clean up, splash water on my face. If he sees my red eyes and dried tears, he’ll instantly know I have bad news to share.

  “Oh God,” I groan, hands grip the edges of the porcelain vanity sink. If there’s ever a time to throw up, it’s now. I hold it back, and inhale slowly until the feeling goes away and until my legs don’t tremble like a newborn fawn.

  Once I’m feeling steadier, I run my hands through my fingers. I actually attempted to look decent today, full face of makeup. My hair has been blow-dried and hangs past my shoulders unlike my usual do of pulling it back from my face. Now it’s just clipped with a small clip at the side, holding it back.

  I look as good as I can be. If only I felt the same.

  In the distance, Bruiser begins yapping and my stomach does another roll of unease. By the time I’m back in the entryway, Sebastian is walking through, suitcase being pulled behind him, suit coat draped over one arm.

  He jerks his head in his eyes widen as he notices me. “Well hey! This is a nice surprise!”

  He drops his suitcase and places his coat on top, coming immediately to me and when he reaches me, he doesn’t waste a moment to press his hands to my cheeks and his lips to mine. I inhale his scent, revel in his taste. His beard scratches my lips and my cheek as he takes the kiss deeper. On instinct, I curl my hands around his forearms to hold him close to me.

  Man. This guy can kiss. I savor it in case it’s my last and when Sebastian wraps an arm around my lower back, pressing me even closer to his body, I settle into everything. Until I feel his hard length against my stomach and a deep rumble of delight rattles deep in his chest.

  “Sebastian,” I breathe against his mouth and pull back. “We should stop.”

  “No. We should take this to my room. I’ve been thinking of you and now I finally have you.”

  Oh goodness. Pleasurable shivers dance down my spine as I fight against them. This is what got us into this mess.

  Summoning all my strength, both internal and external, I place my hand to his chest and push back. His heart is racing. Almost as much as mine.

  I love that I can do this to him. Love that he likes being with me so much.

  “We need to talk.”

  As if I’ve burned him, his hand falls from my back and my cheek. He steps back and frowns. “Talk? I don’t think anything good starts with that sentence.”

  I cringe before I can hide it.

  “I see,” he says, and another foot of space gets placed between us as he steps away from me. His face goes as blank as it used to be, almost as hard as he was on New Year’s. “This have anything to do with why you were so distant this week?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Right.” He swipes his hand over his beard and mouth, and I hate what I see in his face. “Listen, Gigi. Just say what you have to say—”

  The words I need to say lodge in my throat. “I wasn’t lying. I had a really long week. My dad and I… well, we talked. And I decided not to buy the bar from him.” At that, his brows shoot up. I’m certain he assumed I was going to. He practically encouraged me to do so, but instead, now I have something else more important. “I star
ted looking for a job. A real one. Like in an office and everything.”

  I can’t help the way my lip curls at the thought and now Sebastian’s brows are more twisted than ever. “That doesn’t explain why—”

  “Because I’m pregnant.”

  I blurt it out so quick it takes me by surprise. Sebastian’s face pales.

  Then hardens further. “Excuse me?”

  I step toward him, but he throws up his hands, immediately stopping me. “I’m pregnant.”

  I reach back into my pocket and just as my fingers brush against the slick photo, my body freezes when he asks.

  “Whose is it?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” He leans in a fraction. It feels like he’s right in my face, his rage is so sudden. “Who else have you been fucking while having your fun with me?”

  “No one. I swear.” I can’t even summon the strength to be upset by his accusation. “I swear it, Sebastian.” I grab the photo and whip it out between us.

  He doesn’t move his steely, angry gaze from me.

  My chin wobbles at what must be going through his mind. “I swear it, Sebastian. There’s been no one but you since well, since I got home from Europe. I’m pregnant and it’s yours. Ours. I swear.”

  “That can’t be.” He shakes his head and that fury rolling through him cedes enough for me to walk closer. “I can’t. This…”

  He trails off. I step closer. The photo in my hand shakes and trembles, I’m so nervous. “I thought I had to get my birth control shot done on April third, but instead it was supposed to be March fourth. So I missed it. And I swear, it wasn’t on purpose and I didn’t try. I just wrote it down wrong on my calendar but I got a call last week, right before your game that I was late…”

  I can no longer speak. Something like hope bubbles in Sebastian’s green eyes that makes me want to hug him and reassure him. Now that I’ve told him, the crushing weight of fear I’ve felt all week vanishes and relief slams into me like the harshest ocean waves.

  He glances at the paper still trembling in my hand and as he reaches for it, so slowly it might take him a year to touch it, he looks at me. “You’re pregnant.”