Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Nova leans toward her, muttering something I can’t hear, and Austin’s grip on the sign falters before she clutches it tighter.
I AM PREGNANT.
Bold. Bright.
Not a joke…
PREGNANT.
Holy shit.
I can’t get to her.
Can’t do anything.
My brain is short-circuiting, the enormity of her words crashing over me like a wave. But my body knows what it needs to do, even if my head doesn’t. My glove goes up, instinctive, pressing against the plexiglass between us.
Austin’s eyes soften, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the noise, the crowd, the game, even Nova’s soft smile.
It’s just us.
Her hand hesitates, then rises to meet mine on the other side of the glass.
I want to say something, to do something, but all I can manage is a single word that barely escapes my lips: “Okay.”
She nods, understanding more than my voice can convey.
We’re okay.
The moment is over in a nanosecond.
My teammates are already skating toward the center of the ice, the coach shouting something about sportsmanship from the bench. I know I have to go.
If I don’t, I’ll catch hell for it later.
I glance back at Austin one more time. Her hand lingers on the glass as I drop mine and skate backward, keeping my eyes on her as long as I can.
Nova is saying something to her now, enveloping her in a side hug, both of them watching me; the fear in Austin's expression is replaced by something softer.
Hope?
Shit, I don’t know.
At the center of the ice, I shake hands with the opposing goalie, who’s saying something about a great game. I nod, moving my lips to say the words but nothing comes out—I am miles away.
My glove feels heavy where it touched the glass, like her touch is still there, singeing my fingers.
We’re okay.
As the formalities wrap up and I head back to the locker room, my thoughts are racing, my pulse pounding in my ears. What happens next?
I’m not running from this. From her.
Holy fuck.
A baby?
My mind is fucking mush as I step off the ice…
My legs feel unsteady—not from the game—but the weight of what just happened. This is insane!
A baby.
The thought is as overwhelming as it is exhilarating, and I can’t keep my feet from moving faster.
Shoving past my teammates, most of whom are trying to slap my back in congratulations, I ignore the chatter in the locker room as I head straight through it.
Still on my skates, I don’t bother unstrapping anything, don’t bother stopping.
Some of them start yelling.
They think I’ve lost my goddamn mind but I have one destination in my sights:
Austin.
I have to get to her.
I can’t leave her sitting there alone—after a normal game I could be here for hours, post-game massage, ice plunges, all that shit…
The heavy metal door slams open as I burst into the corridor leading toward the stands.
My chest heaves, my breath catches in the tight space of my throat.
I’m moving fast, the blades of my skates scraping against the concrete, but I couldn’t give a shit.
Everyone is watching in stunned silence. Out of my peripheral view I notice several fans beginning to get their phones out, holding them to film me…
I move toward section 107.
Lingering fans part like the sea, stepping aside as I barrel through without slowing down. The yellow glow of the sign still lingers like a ghost in my mind, bold and bright, impossible to forget. I AM PREGNANT. It flashes behind my eyes with every step, like a neon warning light.
When I reach her section, Austin is exactly where I left her—still standing, still clutching the crumpled sign in her hands. Her face is flushed, and her eyes widen as she sees me approach, a mix of relief and anxiety flickering across her features.
Nova’s saying something to her, her hand resting lightly on Austin’s arm, but Austin’s focus is completely on me.
The moment I’m close enough, I reach out, pulling her down the last couple of steps and into my arms.
“I can’t believe you came out here,” she breathes, her voice shaking.
“Of course I did,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “What the hell did you expect me to do?”
Go about my business like she didn’t drop a bomb?
Her hands grip the collar of my jersey as she stares up at me, the noise of the arena fading into the background. People are gathering around.
Murmuring.
Cheering, even.
“I don’t know,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t sure what you’d do.”
I glance down at the crumpled sign still clutched in her hand, shaking my head with a disbelieving laugh.
“You weren’t sure?” I ask. “Austin, you put it on a damn poster.”
Typical.
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“This will do it.” I just can’t fucking believe it. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say “how can you be pregnant? It’s only been a few weeks…” but I’m not an idiot. Instead I say, “Leave it to you to make it a public roasting.”