by Aleo, Toni
Changing Lines
A Bellevue Bullies Novella
Toni Aleo
Copyright © 2019 by Toni Aleo
All rights reserved.
Changing Lines is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editing by: Lisa Hollett of Silently Correcting Your Grammar
Proofing by: Jenny Rarden
Cover Design: Lori Jackson Design
Created with Vellum
Contents
Introduction
Hockey Wife Life
Happy Wife, Happy Tristan
New Beginnings
The Next Hit
The Test
Our Angel
Harrison River Phillip Sinclair
Coming Home
COMING SOON!
Also by Toni Aleo
Acknowledgments
About Toni Aleo
Introduction
Before you get started!
DONT MISS A THING!!!!
Join my newsletter for updates on new releases, sales, deleted scenes, and more!!! Sign up with confidence. NO SPAM EVER!
JOIN NOW!
Dedication
To anyone that struggles with infertility.
I'm praying for your miracle.
Hockey Wife Life
Claire
“You’re serious.”
My husband of ten years looks down at his hands and lets out a long and heavy exhale. My heart is in my throat, and I honestly feel as if my head is spinning. “You can’t be serious.”
Jude then leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs and avoiding eye contact. He’s acted this same way the last two times he’s come to me with this news. The first two times, I took in stride. I married a hockey player. A damn great one. And everyone wants him; I know this. But not now. We can’t do this now. So much is changing.
In a low voice, he says, “I didn’t ask for this.”
“I didn’t say you did,” I remind him, and then I shake my head, trying to ignore the tears welling up in my eyes. “Jude, we just bought this house, and our son will be here in no time. Tristan won’t be able to fly.”
“I know. You can stay here,” he says then, his dark green eyes meeting mine, but my eyes narrow to slits. He snaps his lips together and once more looks away, guilt on his face.
“So, you want me to stay here and wait for the birth of our son…by myself? Do you not want to be there? Does that make any kind of sense to you?”
He gets up suddenly. “No. Fuck, Claire. I didn’t want this. I know we had plans, but it’s the game, babe. It all changes—” he snaps, for the dramatics, I’m sure “—like that. I’m sorry. I know this is awful timing, but I have no choice.”
I know he doesn’t. I let my head fall forward, squeezing my eyes shut as the tears leak out and roll down my face. We just bought this house not even three months ago. His mom made it known that we needed a home for the new baby we are adopting. We’ve lived in apartments or rented houses since the beginning of our marriage. But nothing was really ours because we were both so career driven. When we decided to live apart so that I could run my aunt’s dance studio in Nashville, it was easy because we were so in love. Nothing could break our bond, and it didn’t. He is mine, and I am his.
Life was good—lonely but good. When he had home games, I would go home for the weekends, and whenever he was close to Nashville, I would go to him or him to me. We made it work. But the days turned into years, and we realized we wanted more. A family. For that to happen, we had to live together. Apparently, that’s not all you needed. We had the living and sex part down, but turns out, we also need good eggs and sperm.
Two things neither of us have.
When the doctor told us that his sperm were slow and my eggs weren’t strong, all I could think of was that episode of Friends when Monica and Chandler found out they couldn’t have kids. I wanted to be hopeful; it worked out for them, but then, that’s TV. That’s fiction. Things were not that easy. We went through all the options. My beautiful, amazing aunt, Reese, offered to carry our baby. Even my uncle Phillip was on board, but unfortunately, her uterus wasn’t strong enough. I blame it on her carrying two huge boys, and I promised her she didn’t fail me. Because she didn’t. If anything, I was failing Jude. Not that he ever told me that. He wouldn’t.
He has been supportive and hasn’t placed any blame. I know he even asked the women in our family, Baylor and Avery, but I assume they said no. I don’t blame them, though. Baylor almost died during her first pregnancy, and while the second went better, giving her another precious baby boy, the doctors told her she couldn’t chance it again. Avery is young, and she wasn’t the biggest fan of pregnancy. She has her girl and boy; what more could she ask for? Lucy, his sister, had actually just gotten a hysterectomy when we were looking for a surrogate. The twins had done a number on her body.
I don’t hold anything against our family. At all. I didn’t even want to ask, and the only reason I know Jude did was because his mom told me. With tears in her eyes, she said she’d have a baby for me, though I declined. She’s happy in her life with her husband, and they love being Grandma and Grandpa.
It’s all so overwhelming, the love of our family, and that should be enough. We have nephews and nieces galore. We could totally play that awesome aunt and uncle gig, but I yearn for the love of our child.
I searched for months through the profiles we were provided, trying to find someone to carry our baby, but no one was good enough. It also didn’t feel right. I didn’t want our baby growing in someone else. I wanted to grow that baby. I wanted to make that baby—inside me. I still have hope that maybe, down the road, something will happen. But I’ve learned these last three years that life is like the fourth line in hockey. Life is the goon, the guy out there to hit you, and we’re continually getting hit, left and right. I almost gave up hope, but then we met her.
Tristan Nordstrom.
Due to Jude’s participation in the Minnesota Wild’s Foundation, I find myself very much involved where he can’t be. Since I need something to do when he is gone, I volunteer at the shelter for women who are victims of domestic abuse. I love playing with the kids, and I even hold a small dance class every week. Something to make the kids feel normal. I love it, and I enjoy the people I meet very much.
Jude was on a long road trip when Tristan walked in. It was only six months ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. She had a nasty black eye, her poor lip was split, and she was clutching her purse while guarding her stomach.
“I left. I had to. I’m pregnant. He will kill it. Kill me.”
I was lucky enough to be in the lobby when she walked in. I went straight to her, and I didn’t leave her side for two days. I slept in the bed next to her. I watched over her. I felt like I was there for a reason. For her. In those two days, she didn’t say much. She was only eighteen—left home because her mom didn’t approve of her boyfriend. Can’t say her mom was wrong. He began hitting her for not making enough money at her serving job. She had to provide since he was between jobs. She was “too in love” to go back to the dorms. She wanted to be with him. So, she started working more shifts while trying to maintain her grades so she didn’t lose her full ride to Saint Paul College.
She is brilliant. She’s gorgeous, and I wanted so much for her.
“This is an accident. I still have so much school left. I want to be a doctor. I can’t get an abortion. It doesn’t feel right, and my mom
would kill me. God, she’s gonna be so mad at me. I’ve ruined everything.”
Oh, hearing those words gutted me. I wanted to beg her to give me her baby, but I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t right of me, and she was upset. Things would change. Surely, she’d want her baby. It’s a miracle, and yeah, she has so much going for her, but it’s her baby. I didn’t want her to regret it. I didn’t want her to rush into it, so I ignored her cries about the baby and tried to help her figure everything else out.
Tristan stayed at the shelter for three months. I knew she was staying for the protection; she was worried her ex would come for her, and that was okay. She attended all her classes, went to counseling, everything. I found myself coming to the shelter every day. I had to make sure she was okay. She always lit up when she saw me, and we’d spend hours talking. She had been a dancer her whole life, and she was on the basketball team’s dance squad at SPC. She came from a broken home. Her dad was a drug addict, and her mom was just trying to make ends meet. We had so much in common. I’d once been a lost teen in Minneapolis too, and I found myself sharing my life with her. We became fast friends, and I felt like I was filling the hole of needing a child with Tristan. I was taking care of her, which I realized wasn’t very healthy, but I didn’t care. She was too scared to call her mom, and God had me in that lobby for a reason.
For Tristan.
Through the program, which Jude and I fund, we give the women a lump sum to restart when they’re ready to leave the shelter. Since Tristan didn’t feel safe going back to the dorms, we found her a wonderful little apartment close to campus and also to the police station. She felt safe when we moved her in, and I felt like we had won. She was going to do big things. I remember standing in the middle of her living room when she looked over at me with her big brown eyes and wild, curly blond hair.
“I guess since my living situation is under control, I need to figure out what to do about the baby.”
Both of our gazes fell to her growing belly. My heart ached as I stared at her. I had gone through another fifty surrogate profiles, and I wasn’t happy with anyone. I couldn’t decide, and it was pissing Jude the hell off, but this was going to be the woman carrying our baby. She had to be perfect. I swallowed hard as I whispered, “You could keep it.”
She shook her head, her curls whipping against her face. “I can’t. Call me selfish, but I don’t want kids. I was on birth control, and this still happened.”
I hated how jealous I was of her. I’d basically stood on my head with Jude’s sperm inside me, hoping it would swim for my eggs. I don’t think people really realize how unsexy that is. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
Tristan’s gaze met mine. “Or you could adopt it.”
Remembering those five words will always give me chills.
They meant our dreams were coming true. But now, with the news of us moving, what if that dream is about to crash into the boards?
Happy Wife, Happy Tristan
Jude
I hate the pained look on Claire’s face.
My gorgeous wife is the most important thing in my existence, and I hate to let her down. We have so much planned. When we bought this house, it was to bring our baby home to. We were ready to make this Casa Sinclair, raise this amazing baby we’ve been blessed to get. But now we have to do that in Tampa Bay. I don’t even know if Tristan will be okay with that. What if she decides not to give us the baby now? I was just starting to feel like this was all real. We’ve had so much disappointment the last three years, but the more I get to know Tristan, the more I feel it’s really going to happen.
For Claire, though, she’s felt right about it since the beginning.
I’ll never ever forget that moment.
* * *
“Jude!”
I was playing Xbox with Jayden and Jace. It’s very rare when we all can get on Call of Duty together, but that night was the night.
“Jude!”
“Babe, what?” I say, knocking off my headphones. “I’m in the living room.”
She comes running in. Her hair wild, almost windblown. It’s changed over the years. When we first met, she had such bright, almost Ariel-colored red hair, but now it’s more of a strawberry-blond. She stopped dyeing it about three years ago when we started trying. It was one of those things she read that could help her get pregnant. I’m surprised how much I love it. I loved her red hair, but after all these years, I find that I just love her. All of her.
She drops down beside me, almost in my lap, as she grabs my shoulders. “I need to talk to you.”
I kiss her nose, a grin on my face. “I can tell. What’s up?” Tears gather in her eyes, and I drop the controller before turning off my headset. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Listen, I got Tristan into her apartment, and everything is great!”
My heart swells. The work we do at the shelter is probably my second favorite thing about my job. First is actually playing, but the second is being able to help people. I’m the highest-salary-capped player, and we don’t need all this money. My mom is married to an ex-hockey player and has three hockey-playing sons. My sister Lucy is also very successful in her design business and married to a hockey player, so Mom is set. We don’t need to support her. But everyone else… They need us. Claire is so devoted to the shelter, and it not only makes me want to do more, but it fills me with such pride.
“That’s wonderful. Does she feel safe?”
“Yes,” she gushes, her face red. “But it’s more than that.”
I draw in my brows. “What do you mean?”
“She asked if we wanted to adopt her baby.”
I couldn’t do much more than blink. “I’m sorry?”
“The baby she is pregnant with.”
“Oh, I thought it was the one she was getting from the store later,” I say, and she glares, the little wrinkle in her forehead sending heat through my body. “Be real, Claire. She isn’t going to give us her baby.”
“But she is.”
I feel like she’s growing a few more heads at this point. “Baby, stop.”
“Jude, seriously,” she demands, and I drop my head to the side. “Really. Tristan had said when I first met her that she didn’t want to keep the baby, but she couldn’t get an abortion. I said nothing, I promise. These last couple months, she’s never talked about the baby, or even wanted to. She knows it’s there, but it scares her. She’s young, and you know how badly she wants to get into medical school. But a baby will hold her back—”
“But it’s her baby,” I stress. “And like you said, she’s young. She’ll figure it out. We’ll help her.”
“Jude, seriously, this is helping her. I have said the same thing to myself for the last three months, but today, she honestly looked me in the eye and asked me to adopt it. Told me she wouldn’t want anyone else to have it but us.”
I refuse to get caught up in this matter. “Claire, we’re trying to find a surrogate.”
She shakes her head almost violently. “I have been looking at profiles for two fucking years, Jude, and I can’t find anyone because I don’t want anyone carrying our child but me.” When her eyes flood with tears, I have to look away. “I can’t give you a baby, and it kills me—”
“It’s me too, Claire. It’s not all on you.”
“But it’s my job,” she cries, her big fat tears running down her beautiful face.
“No!” I yell, getting fucking frustrated. “Your job is to love me. You don’t owe me anything but fucking love, and I won’t tell you that again.”
The tension is high, and both our eyes are flooding. I pull my gaze from hers, slowly shaking my head. When her thumb catches one of my tears, I cover her hand with mine and squeeze it. “We want a baby, Jude. Tristan wants medical school. We can help each other out, and she can be the cool aunt. I would want her in its life.”
I swallow hard. I want this, I do, but something is holding me back. “She’s okay with this? I don’t want you to get your hopes up
and she changes her mind.”
“Jude, when they asked if she wanted to know what the baby was, she said no. I asked if she was sure, and she said she didn’t want to know. I’m telling you, she isn’t messing around. She wants this.”
I blink and swallow hard. “And you’ll be happy? Even though we didn’t make this baby.”
She nods slowly. “Will you?”
“I will if you are,” I say as a promise. “All I want is for us to be happy. But, Claire, these last three years have been rough. I don’t want her backing out and crushing you.”
She swallows visibly. “I know, but maybe this is the answer to our prayers. And I honestly don’t think she will change her mind.”
Our gazes stay locked as our labored breathing fills the room. It all seems too perfect and I’m honestly terrified, but I’d do anything for this woman. I take in a quick breath as I reach into my pocket. “I’ll call our lawyer.”
“I’ll get Tristan.”
She jumps up, and I bring my brows in. “Where is she?”
“In the car,” she gushes as she runs to the door.
“What if I had said no?” I laugh, mostly at her excitement.
Her blue eyes dazzle. “I wouldn’t let you.”
* * *
And that is why I love her more than anything.
Claire never settles for anything less than exactly what she wants. I lace our fingers together, and she squeezes mine. “No matter what, Claire. We got this.”