Rushed: A Second Chance Sports Romance

by Lauren Landish

  Tyler comes into the office along with Coach B, and I get more worried. Having a bad game is one thing, but obviously something's up with Tyler. I suspected it last night when I got home from the stadium, and he was distracted during dinner and after. He tried to hide it, but there was something on his mind. I didn't push the issue since I wanted him to have enough rest for today's game, but obviously this is more serious.

  “Mr. Larroquette?” Coach says, knocking on the GM's office door. “I've got an issue that might need your attention.”

  They go in, and maybe it's an accident, maybe nobody remembered that I'm sitting in a desk on the other side of the room, but Coach leaves the door open, and I get half a view of the room as Mr. Larroquette has them take a seat. “Tough game today, Coach. I was hoping we'd pull it out in the fourth quarter, but we couldn't make those stops.”

  “They improved, which I think is going to help us when we take it back to Vancouver for the return game,” Coach says, just loud enough that I can hear it. “We just had too big a hole to get out of.”

  “Speaking of which, what happened today, Tyler? Three quarters, your play wasn’t at the level of the richest rookie contract in Canadian history, then you go out and have a bang up fourth. You were like two different players out there.”

  “It's tied in to what we came to see you about,” Coach B says. “Tyler got served with a lawsuit after the interview yesterday.”

  “What? Oh hell, Tyler, what did you get yourself into?” Mr. Larroquette asks, and I go pale. A lawsuit? Jesus, no wonder Tyler was distracted. But why didn't he say anything to me?

  “A paternity . . . excuse me,” Coach says, realizing now that he left the door to the office open. He comes over and closes the door, not before noticing that I'm sitting at my desk, doing a horrible job of pretending I hadn't heard his last sentence. I sit at my desk, my fingers numb as the word runs around and around in my head. A paternity suit…?

  I do somehow manage to get off that email to the hotel in Calgary without stumbling too much, but I re-read the note three times just to make sure I didn't screw it up too much. My mind and ear though are straining toward the GM's office, and so I'm able to hear it when Mr. Larroquette explodes. “TWO? How the fuck can you get two girls pregnant in one night? My wife and I tried for three years before she got pregnant the first time!”

  Two. Holy shit. It must have been those girls at the club, so soon after Tyler moved to Toronto. It explains why he'd be served the way he was too, as lawyers from the States would have normally approached the team first, while something produced in a local court might have skipped that step. Two girls, one night, two babies . . .

  The conversation goes on for another few minutes, and when the door opens again, he's at least somewhat in control of his temper. “All right, well, keep me up to date on this. Tyler, I understand about today, but Vince's advice was dead on. Don’t let this affect your game play.”

  Coach and Tyler leave, and he sees me for the first time since coming in. His face goes slack and pale, and he can see the truth in my eyes, I overheard enough to know the deal. Coach notices too, and gives the two of us a look. “Okay . . . well Tyler, I'll see you Monday for the video session.”

  He leaves, and Mr. Larroquette closes his door, giving us at least a little bit of privacy. Tyler's face is going red with shame, and I can't help but feel pissed off. “So were you going to tell me?”

  “I . . . I had to get my head wrapped around it all first,” he says, dropping into one of the other chairs in the office. “The asshole just dropped it on me out of the blue. How the hell did he even know where I'd be?”

  “Probably because the show's been advertising that you were going to be on for three days prior to your interview,” I say, my anger rising. “Tyler . . . two girls?”

  Tyler looks at me, his eyes pained, and nods. “That's what they're claiming. The two girls from . . .”

  “I know where from!” I nearly spit, then take a deep breath. Okay, I admit it, it hurts that on the night that I get burned at the club, Tyler not only apparently fucked the hell out of these two girls, but was so stupid as to get them both pregnant. “Don't think I haven't figured that out about four minutes ago.”

  “I . . . I'm sorry,” Tyler says, shaking his head. “I didn't mean to hide it from you, but I didn't know how to tell you.”

  “Tyler . . . I need to think about this a bit,” I finally say. “Let’s talk later”

  Tyler nods. “How much longer do you have to be here?”

  “Just a few minutes. But . . . I think I'll walk home. I need the time to think some, and to calm down. I shouldn't be too angry, but I am. I need to not be angry if we're going to have the conversation we need to have about this.”

  Tyler nods again and gets up, pausing at the door of the outer office, to give me one last look.

  He leaves, and I sit at my desk, looking down at the green jersey I'm wearing, trying to figure out what is going on inside my head, and more importantly, inside my heart. I knew I was dating a star when I got started in with Tyler, and I hate to be stereotypical, but why is this news so surprising to me?

  Mr. Larroquette's door opens, and he calls my name. “April? May I see you in my office?”

  “Yes sir,” I reply, closing my laptop and going over. I take a seat and try to put on my best professional face. “Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”

  “No, I just wanted to check how you're doing. I know you may deserve to know, but you overhearing that was a big mistake on my part.”

  “Sir, I assure you, nothing that you three said will get out to the rest of the team from me,” I quickly answer, putting my feelings aside.

  “April, if I had doubts about your professionalism, I'd have fired you as soon as it became apparent that you and Tyler are dating,” he says, laying it out in public for the first time. “You’ve conducted yourself well around the office, and wearing his jersey during games . . . well, I'll tell you my wife's opinion, she thinks it's cute. I'm a bit too much of a fogey to think a jersey is cute, but I can understand. If I were in Tyler's place I'd be moved by the gesture. As for Tyler himself, well, most of the time he's been a pro.”

  “He's stepped in it a few times,” I admit, and Mr. Larroquette shrugs. “I know, most of the players do at some level.”

  “Most professional athletes do. Before I joined the Fighters, I was an assistant GM in hockey, and I can tell you that Tyler Paulson is a model athlete compared to what some of the hockey players got up to. That's beside the point though, since you're caught up in this now. So I guess I need to just ask . . . are you okay?”

  “I'm pissed,” I reply heatedly, then take a deep breath. “But I'm going to see it through and get all the details. Besides, if it was just that night, he's been a good man since then, and a great boyfriend.”

  “As long as it doesn’t affect your work. I told Tyler, the team can't do much to help him, maybe some moral support. This isn't like America, as you know. We don't have legal teams on call for our players. We've got a few folks who can review contracts and that's about it.”

  “That's okay, I've been thinking, and I know someone who might help us out,” I say, before stopping at my choice of pronoun. Us? Yeah, I guess so. Tyler and I . . . it's us.

  The GM also notices and smirks. “I see. Well, best of luck, Miss Gray. Oh, and I’m sorry, but your request for travel reimbursement for that trip to London to get sausage has been denied. Please tell Tyler that if he really needs stuff from London, he'll need to pay for the gas out of his own pocket.”

  I nod, and can't help but smile a little. He's cut me a lot of slack, and I appreciate it. “Thanks, Mr. Larroquette. If you don't mind, I'll take off. I already emailed the hotel in Calgary. I'll check tomorrow, but I think everything should be in place for the team's trip on Friday morning.”

  “That's just fine, April. I'm sure it will be, we use those guys every time we go to Calgary. I'll see you Monday.”

  I th
ink more on the way home, coming up with my plan, and instead of the long, slow walk to calm down, I find that I'm picking up the pace, making the walk in only about five minutes and actually skipping the elevator, instead running up the stairs to our floor and opening the front door to find Tyler sitting on the couch, still worried. “You're home quick.”

  “I didn't want to delay our talk any more than I had to,” I say, coming over and sitting next to him. “Tyler, I just want to say . . .”

  “Wait,” Tyler says quietly, holding up his hand. “I need to say something first. You're perfectly right to be pissed off at me for not telling you last night. I was wrong to not do that, and even more wrong to have done what I did. I just . . . I freaked out. Everything was just going so good, and then this. What hurt me the most about this lawsuit isn't that it happened. I'm upset and angry because I wanted the first time I had a child to be with a woman I love.”

  I stop, then give him a smile. “Are you saying you love me?”

  Tyler looks me in the eyes, and I can see the fear and pain he's been torturing himself with. “I'm crazy about you. Yes, I love you.”

  “Good,” I say, leaning in and kissing him on the nose. “Because I love you too. And I'm not in the mood for a one way love. I guess I should have said it to you earlier, but we both seemed to be going along so well, it didn't need to be said. Now it does. Tyler, I love you. I'm in love with you, and that scares and thrills me at the same time.”

  He takes my hands and we kiss, not with passion, but instead with tenderness and commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers when we part. “I promise, no matter what happens with this, I'll be honest with you.”

  “Good, because you can tell that little voice in your head that I'm not going anywhere,” I reassure him. “Actually, that's part of why I got home so quickly. I think I know someone who can help us out.”

  “Who?” Tyler asks, his face clearing and the Tyler I know coming back to life. “Are you friends with Perry Mason or something?”

  “Who?”

  Tyler shakes his head. “A really old TV show, my grandmother was nuts about it, and I was forced to sit through enough of it that it’s engrained into my brain.”

  I laugh. “No, but I do have a university classmate who got a job as a paralegal,” I tell him as I pull out my phone, the number's got to be in here somewhere, “and happens to specialize in family law. He and I owe each other a few favors, and I bet he can talk with us tomorrow if you want.”

  “He, huh? Should I be jealous?” Tyler teases, and I laugh.

  “Hardly. In fact, you should be the one watching your back. Connor's into men, and I bet you’re just his type.”

  Tyler laughs, then leans forward and kisses me, his lips soft and tender. “I think dinner can wait. The lawsuit can wait, it all can wait. There's something more important right now.”

  “What's that?”

  “I want to make love with the first woman I've ever truly loved,” Tyler says. “I want to celebrate, not mourn or worry . . . at least for a night.”

  I nod, and kiss him back. “Then take me to bed.”

  Chapter 15

  Tyler

  “Thanks for meeting us on a Sunday,” I say, shaking hands with the giant of a man who takes a seat across from April and I at the cafe downtown. Connor Nash is huge, and if he didn't want to be a lawyer, I’m pretty sure he'd be able to make a good living as one of my offensive linemen. There's a freaky amount of intelligence in his eyes as he takes a seat and the chair groans in appreciation as his bulk settles. “When April said she had a friend who was a paralegal, I didn't quite know what to expect.”

  “When April called last night saying that she was dating one of the Fighters, and he’s in legal trouble, I didn't know what to expect either,” Connor states with a chuckle. “Especially when she said it was you. No offense, Mr. Paulson, but I spent a little bit of time after the phone call doing some research on you. Your reputation is . . . well, let's just say if reality matches the reports, you're going to need my law firm’s services more than once. In which case I'll need the same services, because I'll have to kill you.”

  “Connor!” April chastises him, laughing. She looks at me and shakes her head. “Don't let his size intimidate you, he's just a big teddy bear. Actually, he owes me one for exactly that reason.”

  “Oh? Well, I don’t think he has to worry. And please Connor, call me Tyler. I only get called Mr. Paulson when I'm in trouble.”

  “In which case maybe Mr. Paulson might be better?” Connor jokes, then grows serious. “Sorry. It's one of my weaknesses, as the partners at the firm have pointed out numerous times while they review my articleship, what you might call my internship.”

  “I thought you're a paralegal?” I ask, and Connor shrugs.

  “The law's a little different up here, the way it's structured. April was being nice in translating it that way, but I'm really a law student. I've got a little more time in law school, then I take my Barrister's and Solicitor's exams. In the meantime, I'm working for my uncle at Montague, Nicholson and MacKay. He's a partner, but not one of the named ones. It's a decent position, and if I keep my studies up, I've got a chance at getting a slot with them as a first year associate soon enough. But, fill me in on the details. April said you've caught yourself a paternity suit?”

  “Yeah, two at once,” I say, handing over the envelope. “Here, it'll save some time.”

  While he reads the papers, the waitress comes over and I order coffees and biscotti for everyone.

  Connor finishes reading and hands the papers back to me. “Until the firm officially signs papers with you, it's best if you hang onto that,” he says, then gives April and me an appreciative glance.

  “I know what this says, but I'll be honest Tyler, I want to hear your side of things. You know, this is a pretty fantastical story.”

  “I wish I had more to tell you,” I admit. “The hard part about all this is that I have almost no memory at all of meeting these women. I think April probably has a better memory of what happened than I do.”

  Connor hums, and takes out a smartphone, where he starts tapping away, I guess taking notes. “April?”

  “The two of us met up, we took a taxi to Ace High. I had a Cosmo while Tyler had a sangria. We danced once, Tyler said he was going to get some refills. I saw the two girls go up to him at the bar, and then he sort of got led away by them to the dance floor, where the three of them dry humped for a while, and then he left with them. I stuck around maybe ten minutes after that before I went home.”

  April sees the painful look on my face, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “It's over,” she tells me with a smile. “We found each other after that.”

  Connor taps his teeth with the stylus he's been using. I can understand. He's got hands like a lineman too. Trying to type on a touchscreen with his fingers must be impossible. “Tyler, you say your memory fades out soon after you meet the girls. It doesn’t sound like you had that much to drink. Did you have anything before then?”

  “No, in fact, I made sure to load up on water beforehand. It's part of the reason the next day's hangover was so strange. I know how to avoid hangovers, and I've never gone to blackout drunk before.”

  Connor nods. “And did you drink anything the girls offered you?”

  “Um . . . I don't know,” I say, but April interrupts.

  “You drank something at the bar with them,” she says. “I remember seeing that. You never even got your second order from the bartender. Two minutes later, the three of you were on the floor.”

  Connor sighs. “Shit. There's no way to prove it, but…”

  “What?” I ask, confused. April looks at me incredulously, as Connor looks at me the same way. “No, really. What?”

  “You never heard of Rolax?” April asks. “You know, Rohypnol?”

  “You mean date-rape drugs?” I say with a scowl of disgust.

  “Sangria's a strong flavored drink, and there are
some of the newer drugs out there, what some are calling party drugs, as fucked up as that sounds, that are pretty much flavorless, especially if they're dropped into a strongly flavored alcoholic drink like sangria. You said you had a headache, though?”

  “Felt like an ax through my forehead. I remember that much. I thought it was just the dehydration.”

  “Okay, well, it doesn't really matter at this point. Just . . . if there's any consolation, you may not have been in full control of yourself.”

  I shake my head, not caring. “Doesn't really matter, does it? I know you're trying to be nice, but it can't be proven, and it won't change the fact that I'm being sued.”

  “We'll see. Tyler, I'll be honest. If these girls are telling the truth and they are pregnant with your children, you're probably going to be on the hook for child support regardless of whether they drugged you.”

  I nod. “If I got these women pregnant, I’ll man up. But I want to know for damn sure that they're mine first. I mean, what are the odds?” It was what had been twisting and turning in my mind ever since I read the paper from the process server, or whatever the fuck it is they're called in Canada. “Besides, I always follow the motto of ‘no glove, no love’.”

  “Okay. Let me give my uncle a call. If you're mostly just looking for confirmation, that's a routine matter and won't be too difficult at all. We'll be in touch. Would it be okay if I routed everything through April? Just that you've got a busy job, and it'd be easier.”

  “That’s fine. There won’t be any secrets between us from now on.”

  “You're looking better.”

  Vince and I are warming up, throwing light passes back and forth as we get ready for the hardest practice of the week, a day earlier than normal on Wednesday since Friday is a flying day for us. Coach is planning on doing a video session during the flight, but other than that Friday is travel and rest for us, with the game Saturday night, which is going to be tough with the time difference. Oh well, fuck it.