Offensive Plays: A Surprise Baby Hockey Romance (Heatwave Hockey Series)

32. Libby

Atext comes through on my phone and I don’t know whether or not I should answer it.

Or whether I have the energy to pick it up.

My sobs wrack through my body and it takes everything in me to even breathe. This is what I’ve been dreading.

This truth.

But unlike Mrs. Ferguson and her stupid non-disclosure agreement insinuated… I wasn’t the one to let the secret out.

Which means, in a very twisted way—I’m free.

I laugh to myself through the tears. She has nothing to hold over me anymore. Nothing to blackmail me with. The secret is out.

And for the first time in over a decade, I can breathe.

There’s rustling in a bush behind me. I think it’s Michael, but then a head of salt and pepper hair appears.

“Libby,” Mr. Ferguson says. “I was hoping I would find you.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes and sit up straight. “Mr. Ferguson, I’m not trapping Michael with a baby. That’s not… I’d never…”

He holds a hand up to stop me and motions to the empty space next to me. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” I say, sliding down the bench to give him room.

He looks around the shaded space under the giant willow tree.

“Libby, I’m so sorry for the pain my family has caused. If I had any idea what was going on, I promise you, I would not have let what happened to you take place. What Constance and Jonah had you do…” his voice breaks. “I’m just so sorry. That was never their choice to make for you.”

He looks at me and the man has tears in his eyes. “I want you to know something. I’ve never seen Michael as happy and carefree as he is since he’s been with you. I saw it the day it happened. This smile I haven’t seen in him since he was a kid.”

I gulp and look down at my hands.

“Libby, you don’t need it. But I want you to hear it anyways.”

I look up at him.

His eyes are a gentle blue. They remind me of Michael. Soft and welcoming.

“I give you my blessing. You are the mother of my soon-to-be grandchild. And…” his voice breaks again, but he clears his throat. “And the child that never was.”

A tear falls down my cheek and stains my dress.

Mr. Ferguson reaches into his pocket and hands me a fresh handkerchief.

“You deserve all my respect. And anything you and Michael need. I will be first in line to celebrate and give to you. You didn’t deserve what my family did to you. And I understand if you want nothing to do with us. But I hope that… I hope that I can meet this child.” He says with a smile.

He places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you for making my son happy.”

He walks off without another word. And I realize that I barely said a single word the entire time he was here.

I stand and look up at the weeping willow. The long branches reaching over me. Providing shade and comfort.

And somehow the man’s words have given me the courage I need to walk out of here.

And into Michael’s arms.