by Mandi Beck
“Whatever, you pussy. Get your goofy ass in the net so we can smoke you,” Levi tells him as he shoulders by.
“Ohhhh, I see how it is. You had to bring backup, huh, Sexy?” Murphy calls, following behind him, leaving me alone in the locker room again.
I can’t help but laugh at them. With a shake of my head, I finish tying my laces then check my phone to see if I have any texts or calls from Stella before I realize she doesn’t have my number.
“Fuck.” I mumble out loud to myself.
I don’t ever chase after women, but when it comes to Stella? I just might.
I throw open the door, a smile on my face. “I was about to come to your dorm and drag you back here.” I shouldn’t be this eager to see her but I was really going to hunt her ass down if she didn’t show up soon.
“I would’ve been here sooner, but we had a team meeting I totally forgot about,” Stella says, as she slides past me into the living room.
“You hungry?” Part of me is ready to skip right past the food I was initially thinking of. Once I laid eyes on her, my hunger shifted.
“Starving.”
“Good, I already ordered. We can eat it in bed.” Even as I make the suggestion, I’m pulling her behind me to my bedroom. I have no chill when it comes to her, and I’m already thinking of how fast I can get Stella naked and underneath me before the food is delivered.
“Be careful, Dagger. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you maybe missed me,” Stella teases.
“Oh, I missed you all right. I missed you naked,” I say huskily, as I lift the hem of her shirt, inching it up her toned abs. “I missed the way your breathing changes when I get close like this.” Up and over her head, I toss the shirt behind me, closing the space between us.
“I missed the way your nipples turn into tight little beads, begging”—I capture one of them between my teeth and smile around it when she gasps—“for my attention.”
Sliding my hand into the waistband of her shorts, I palm her ass, squeezing. “I missed this ass.” With a smirk, I grind my hardened cock into her. “Now, why don’t you show me how much you missed me.”
“What if I didn’t?” Stella murmurs, letting her head fall to the side as my lips find the money spot on her neck.
“Well then, let me make you miss me.”
Four
Jason
Six months later…
My leg bounces as the plane bumps across the tarmac in a rough landing. I’m on edge and this flight didn’t help in the least. It’s good to be home, even if I have shit to do while I’m here. Checking in on the team’s golden boy being on top of the list. I’m the assistant captain and what they call a veteran player, and since I’ve been playing with Chicago for ten years now, it’s part of my job to also mentor one of our incoming new guys. Every year, I have, at minimum, one draft pick out of Fulton University to babysit, since it’s where I went and Boston is my hometown. At least it allows me to come home a couple times a year to see the family. This trip is perfect, with Christmas being in a few days. Two birds, one stone, then it’ll be back to Chi-town and back on the ice.
The flight attendant comes over the PA, announcing we’ve arrived in Boston, and that the temperature is a chilly twenty degrees. Fuck. It’s not any warmer here than it was in Chicago. I really need to think about splitting my time between Chicago and someplace tropical. There’s only so much cold a man can take, even if I do live my life on the ice.
I unbuckle and stand, careful not to bump my head on the bins. As I wait for them to let us off, I catch the pretty attendant giving me one last look over. She spent the entire flight catering to my every need. If I wasn’t so sore from last night’s game, I might have let her cater to another need of mine. Maybe. Probably not, though. She’s not my type. Hell, lately nobody is. Still, a slow grin steals across my face as I make my way past her and she discreetly brushes her chest against my arm, slipping something into the palm of my hand. I’m guessing it’s her number. Not slowing to check I shove the scrap of paper into the pocket of my jeans until I can toss it. I’m not here for that. Normally, I would be all over that, but not this trip.
My sister offered to pick me up from the airport but I turned her down, insisting on taking a cab to my place. I needed the downtime to relax before being surrounded by the whole family. There would be plenty of time for that in the coming week. It’s the longest break I’ve had mid-season. The NHL doesn’t stop for the holidays typically, but by some freakish stroke of luck, our team has a seven-day blackout while they do some work on our stadium and practice facility. That it came at Christmastime is truly a miracle. This will be the first Christmas I’ve been home in the ten years I’ve played in the NHL, unless we were in town playing Boston.
Bypassing luggage—one nice thing about maintaining a house here—and heading straight for the curb and the lineup of taxis, I pull my beanie out of my back pocket and pull it low on my forehead, doing my best not to make eye contact with anyone. It’s not the norm for me to be recognized out of my uniform, but hockey is a big deal here in Boston, and this is my hometown, so it has been known to happen from time to time. I’m almost in the clear until the guy putting people in cabs recognizes me and asks for my autograph, which then draws the attention of other people. Most of them probably still don’t know who I am, but don’t want to miss out on the possibility of meeting someone who may or may not be famous.
For ten minutes, in the freezing ass cold, I smile and sign autographs. The only one I didn’t mind was a kid, Jake, who was about ten or so. He came over reciting stats and telling me he’s going to play for FU when he’s older, just like I did. Him, I liked and made sure to take some extra time for, even getting an email address from his mom so I could send him some stuff. He reminded me of myself when I was that age. With a two-finger wave, I climb into the waiting cab, giving him my address, and we head out to the harbor and home.
We pull up in front of my building on Commercial Wharf and I can’t help but smile. I love Chicago but this is home. After paying the cabbie, I slide out of the backseat and the crisp winter air swirls around, bringing with it the smell of the harbor.
“Hey hey hey! It’s the man with the plan. Welcome home!” the doorman, old enough to be my grandfather, greets.
“What does that even mean, Harry?” I chuckle, taking the hand he holds out for a firm shake.
“You know, the plan.” The old guy gives me an expectant look, waiting for me to get it.
“Whatever you say, old man. You’ll send my mail up?”
“You got it, kid. You need anything else? You got food up there?” Harry is more than the doorman here. He’s a little bit of everything. Concierge, locksmith, handyman. Hell, I’ve even had him go on a beer run a time or two.
“Nah, should be good. Thank you, sir.” I give him a mock salute and walk into the lobby and out of the cold. As I wait for the elevator, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and grin as I look down at the screen.
“Hey, Ma.”
“You home, sweetie?”
“Yeah, just got here. I need a shower and a nap, maybe a massage before I head your way though.”
“It was a rough game last night, huh? That Slejek kid hit you hard.”
I can’t help but chuckle. The “Slejek kid” is a six-foot-four goon. My ma has always been my biggest fan, and the one to drag my ass all over the damn country to freeze her ass of in one rink or another. “Yeah, he did. Few times.”
“I saw. Dad wasn’t real happy about it. Said he always was a dirty player.”
The elevator opens on my floor as I listen to her go on.
“It happens. I gave it back to him, though.”
“You sure did, sweetie,” she says, pride in her voice. Only a true hockey mom would be proud of her son for knocking a player on his ass.
“Okay, Ma. I’ll be by in a couple hours. I promise.”
“We’ll be here. Your sisters are coming for dinner to see you.�
�
“Sounds good. Bye.”
I think that was the shortest conversation I’ve ever had with the woman. Letting myself in and tossing my stuff onto the counter, I make my way over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to take in the view of the harbor, park, and the city. All right there. My eyes drift to the hot tub, and I can’t help but think about the last time I was in it and what I was doing.
“What if the neighbors look out their windows? They’ll see us.”
“Let ’em watch, Stella.”
I scrub a hand over my face, willing the thought away. After our last run-in, I can guarantee there won’t be a repeat of that performance, no matter how often I think about it and her. She got under my skin in four days. How?
With a groan, I walk to my bedroom, stripping along the way. I’ll hit the shower to wash off the plane ride, then head over to the Fulton University campus to talk to Coach and Levi, and maybe even get that massage from one of the Athletic Department techs. It won’t have the happy ending calling Shelly, the masseuse from the service I use in town, will, but it’ll do the trick. I tell myself I can’t decide if I want Stella to be there or not. I know the truth, though. It’s the reason I take an extra couple minutes to get ready. Like the spray of cologne and the washed hair is going to make her happier to see me somehow. Can’t blame a guy for trying, I guess.
“Dagger! What’s up, man? I didn’t know you were coming this week,” Levi says, standing from the bench and extending his hand for me to take. The kid is stand-up. He’s hell on the ice and he’s a great individual off it. I look forward to playing with him next season. He’ll be a great addition to the team.
“That’s the point, Sexton. If I give you a warning, you’ll be ready and I can’t catch you getting into any shit,” I tell him, slapping him on the back.
“Ha! Only thing you’ll ever catch me in is pussy,” Levi says, grinning.
“Nothing wrong with that.” Shrugging, I look around the empty locker room. “Where is everyone?”
“Mostly home for Christmas. I was just running drills with the few guys home.” As the captain of the team, it’s his job to make sure nobody gets lazy. “About to go pick my dad up from the airport, you wanna ride?”
“Nah, I’m gonna go see Coach real quick, before I head out to Cambridge to see the fam. Where’s your dad?”
“Connecticut, working on getting a pitcher. He’s got two prospects he’s looking at,” Levi says, as he stuffs his gear in his locker.
“A pitcher? What about Stella?” I try to act casual. Nobody knows about Stella and I spending that weekend together. Especially not Levi.
“Out for the season.”
“The whole season?” What the hell?
“Yup.” I’m staring at the top of his head as he ties his shoes, wanting to shake the information from him. It’s like pulling fucking teeth.
“Why?” My tone is clipped, and Levi must pick up on my frustration. He looks up at me, puzzled.
“She’s knocked up. Big ol’ belly. It’s kinda hot.”
His grin grates my nerves, even as I try to let what he said sink in. Stella is pregnant. Stella. Is. Pregnant.
“She drop out?” I manage to ask.
“Nah, she’s working in the treatment room to keep part of her scholarship, and then someone said that she was also working at Ruma.” Ruma is an upscale restaurant; there are a few of them around the states.
“She’s working pregnant? Where the fuck is her boyfriend?” I can’t hide my disgust. This is not the trip home I was expecting. I thought I’d let Stella be pissed at me, then I’d convince her to get over it and lock her in my apartment again for the next few days.
“No boyfriend. In fact, in all the time I’ve known her, I don’t think she’s ever had a boyfriend. Girl that fine should never be alone,” he tries to joke, but when I don’t laugh, he clears his throat. “Anyway, no boyfriend and she won’t say shit about who her baby daddy is.”
All of a sudden, my whole body goes solid with tension. Vertebrae by vertebrae, an icy chill dances up my spine. I try to do the math in my head, but I’m unable to quiet the roar in my ears long enough. Swallowing the lump in my throat so I can speak, I manage to croak out, “How pregnant is she?”
“I don’t know, bro. Pregnant, pregnant.” Levi holds his hands in front of his stomach to indicate how far her belly is. Son of a bitch. “Shit. I’m gonna be late. My dad will kill me.”
“Go on. I’m going to see if Charlie has time for a massage,” I lie. I need to go find Stella.
“Maybe Cruz is down there. Ask for her. All the guys do. Perverts love a pregnant chick rubbing on them.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Like any of them wants any part of that.”
The muscle in my jaw begins ticking at the thought of those fuckers making her work them over while she’s pregnant. Or at all. I do my best to play along though. “Maybe. Get out of here. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Levi gives me a high five and then jogs out of the locker room, leaving me alone to try and get my thoughts straight.
Fuck. Is Stella pregnant with my kid? Fuck.
Five
Jason
After going down to the treatment room and finding no Stella, I called my ma and told her I was going to be late. There was no way I was driving to Cambridge without answers. I don’t even have Stella’s number, and when I stopped at the campus apartment where I remembered dropping her off before, they said she didn’t live there anymore. So, Ruma it is.
I’m furious and I don’t even know why. It’s probably not even my kid. I mean, she’s in college. I can’t be the only guy she was fucking. She said I was, but isn’t that what all chicks say? Whipping my truck into the full parking lot, I curse under my breath. Of course it’s fucking busy. A couple deep breaths later, I get out of the car and walk through the doors into the dimly-lit restaurant. Fucking hell.
“Hi, welcome to Ruma,” the bubbly hostess greets.
“Is Stella Cruz working?” Her smile slips at my question and her eyes narrow.
“Stella’s shift is just about to end”—she looks at her watch—“in about five minutes.”
“Great. Can you seat me in her section?”
“No.”
I blink, confused. “Didn’t you say she was here?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then I’d like a table in her section.” I’m starting to get aggravated.
“Do you have a reservation?” the once-cordial hostess asks smugly.
What is with this chick? “No, I don’t.”
“Then I can’t seat you in the dining room. You can have a seat in the bar, though.”
“Is Stella in the bar?”
“No.”
Okay. I’m done with her shit. “Listen. I want to sit down and I want Stella to be my server. It’s not a difficult, or even unheard of, fucking request.”
Her eyes widen at the flare of my temper, then narrow back to slits. “Oh look, her shift is over.” She gestures with a flourish to the bar area. “Shall I seat you in our lounge?”
She knows good goddamn well she can’t. Not sure what I did to piss her off, I storm out the front door before I start cursing at her again. Days like this, I wish I didn’t have to watch the way I acted in public because I would love nothing more than to go in there and flip a couple tables, I’m so frustrated. I should call the fucking manager and have her fired. At my car, I turn to walk back in there when I hear her. Stella is walking out the front door with two other servers, laughing at something the guy said. Levi wasn’t kidding, she’s pregnant as fuck and it’s hot. Even in her black pants and white dress shirt, I can see the swell of her belly.
“Stella.”
She stops in her tracks, whipping her head in my direction. Much like the hostess, her eyes narrow into thin slits.
“What are you doing here?” She’s not happy to see me.
“Holy shit, man! You’re Jason Dagger,” the guy, the one who was making Stella laugh, say
s excitedly. “Holy shit! Can I get your autograph? Oh my god, the guys aren’t going to believe this. Can we get a picture?”
He never lets me answer, just keeps rattling off questions as he pulls a pen and paper from his book, all while juggling his phone. Figuring it will be faster to just get it over with, I pose for the picture and sign his paper with a hasty scribble, the whole time keeping my eyes on Stella.
“Oh man, thank you! This is awesome.” He finally notices I haven’t said anything and that my sole focus is on Stella. “Sorry. I’ll let you guys do whatever. Stella, do you need me to wait to give you a ride?”
Before she can answer, I make the decision for her. “I’ll take her.”
“Like hell,” she responds.
“Stella.”
“You can go ahead, Eric. I’ll catch a bus or an Uber.” He looks uncertain, so she reassures him again, and we both watch him walk to his car before she turns her attention to me.
“What are you doing here, Jason?”
“Looking for you.” She looks tired. Beautiful, but tired, which pisses me off.
“Well, you found me. Can I go now?”
“We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say,” she says stubbornly.
“Is the baby mine?” Go big or go home, right? No bullshitting around with her.
“Oh, nooow you want to talk, huh?” she drags out, taunting me.
“Goddamn right, I want to talk, Stella. You’re clearly pregnant. I want to know if the baby is mine,” I say through clenched teeth. I’m doing my best to keep myself in check, not liking that we’re doing this in public. Half of me is feeling sheer terror—we were careful, every time. The other half of me is elated, the thought of being a father exciting. How fucked up is that?
“Why do you care, Jason? You sure didn’t care about anything I had to say when I came to see you a couple months ago,” Stella says, a hand fisted on what used to be her hip.