19. Ethan
NINETEEN
ETHAN
We’re on a private jet en route to our first game. All around me, the team is a buzz of excitement, bordering on obnoxious. Their mouths haven’t quit yapping, and it has nothing to do with the start of the hockey season.
It has something to do with my pain-in-the-ass captain, who hasn’t stopped grinning. It’s infuriating.
“How’s the girlfriend ?” Grant asks, and a few of the guys snicker.
My attention is piqued, and I eavesdrop from a row ahead.
“Much better,” Jackson says, a smile clear in his voice. “Doctor said everything is fine with her and the baby.”
Baby? He has a girlfriend and a baby? Holy shit. I was way off.
“They think she’s stressed,” he continues. “They’ll monitor her blood pressure, and she’s staying at the resort while I’m gone.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Hoosier chimes in. “After all those videos went viral? People will know she’s your girlfriend.”
Someone scoffs. “She’s not his girlfriend.”
“Doesn’t fucking matter,” Jackson barks. “I hired a bodyguard to watch over her and spoke with the manager this morning. She’s been moved to my penthouse. It has a private elevator and staff.”
“Leave him alone.” Grant chuckles. “We all know Jackson is still hung up on Aurora.”
I’m lost. Jackson isn’t in a relationship with the mother of his child because of lingering feelings for Aurora? He hasn’t mentioned her in over a month. He has been dedicated to hockey and getting clean.
But this is Aurora we’re talking about, bikini supermodel with the heart of an angel. Who could forget her? Not me, and apparently not Jackson.
“The one who got away,” another player sings wistfully.
“Enough, assholes. Aurora is pregnant by some dickhead and needs a lot of support right now.”
His words hit me like a bullet to the chest. My world stops. My vision blurs. The chilling grip of shock knots my insides, the air frozen in my lungs.
Aurora is pregnant.
The girl I slept with months ago.
My body moves in slow motion, my limbs numb. With trembling fingers, I reach for my phone and search for the videos that captured Jackson’s moment of elevator fury. My heart ceases to beat until I find what I’m looking for, what I already know I’ll see.
Sure enough, it’s an unconscious Aurora falling into Jackson’s arms.
I scrub the video and watch it over again, blinking at the sight of her slightly rounded stomach.
Everything in me screams mine .
My girl. My child. The realization is so intense, pure adrenaline surges through my veins.
Pieces of a puzzle I didn’t even know existed snap into place. Of course, it’d be a threat to Aurora that’d have Jackson losing his shit. How did I not think of that?
“Dude, are you sure it’s not yours?” Grant asks.
I find myself both hoping it is and isn’t his.
“Positive. I threatened to get a paternity test. She said the father is married and wants nothing to do with them.” Jackson’s disgusted tone only twists the knife deeper into my gut.
Oh. My. Fucking. God .
My dreams and nightmares have collided. The baby is mine. It has to be. I got Aurora pregnant, the one woman my team captain is in love with. Obsessed.
Can this get any more fucked up? At least my divorce is final, and nobody here knows I was married. Not even Jackson seems to question if I’m the father.
“His fucking loss,” Grant says.
“For damn sure,” Killian agrees.
A wave of guilt washes over me. I’m that guy. I may not have explicitly said I didn’t want a baby, but during my panic, my behavior made it painfully clear. I judged her, acted superior, and used my marriage as a feeble excuse for my actions. And to make matters worse, I kept her in the dark about my plans to become the head coach of her ex’s team.
“That’s what I told her.” Jackson is grinning again. And why wouldn’t he be? Everything he wanted fell into his arms, quite literally. “I saw the baby at the hospital. A little boy. It was fucking incredible.”
A little boy. Tears burn my eyes, and I bite my lip to stop from crying or raging.
“She’s thrilled but working her ass off. I offered for her to move into my place because Emily is giving her trouble. You know how she can be.”
“Jealous and self-absorbed,” Killian answers, bitterness lacing his tone. “And she’ll cause problems between you and Aurora. She’s done it before.”
“Exactly, and I plan on spoiling the shit out of them.”
“Dude, that’s fucking awesome,” Grant says. “I’m happy for you.”
You know what’s not fucking awesome ? Learning, in the back of an airplane, from the man in love with the woman carrying your child, that you have a son on the way.
Pursuing Aurora will cause Jackson to despise me and shatter the integrity of the team I’ve poured endless hours into building. Yet, I can’t ignore the fact I have a responsibility. I won’t give up my child.
Eventually, she’ll find out I’m Jackson’s coach. What then?
I can handle them being together. After all, I’m accustomed to burying my emotions in work. But the idea of not being a part of my child’s life is unbearable.
I never wanted kids, but now that I know I am, I can’t let it go.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
“Jackson! Open up!” I shout through the door, my words coming out slurred, no matter how hard I try to avoid appearing drunk.
I admit, I had more than a few drinks at the hotel bar. I only intended to have one, enough to take the edge off while I processed the predicament I got myself into.
Then I thought about Aurora, overwhelmed with work and her roommate, and one whiskey became two. I thought about how she was supporting her grandmother and our child—a child I could easily afford—and the guilt pushed me to order a third.
The situation sank deeper.
The mother of my child is relying on another man—a man who met my son before me. She was hospitalized and had nobody but her ex to lean on. That shameful realization led me to one more.
I lost count, thinking about Jackson, who, surprisingly, has grown on me. I kind of like the kid. His attitude reminds me of the chip I once had on my shoulder. And even though he’s in love with the woman I desire, I still don’t hate him. He’s too fucking charming to hate.
Except in this particular moment, when he refuses to... “Answer the damn door!” I pound my fist harder.
Defeated and unsteady, I rest my forehead on the hard surface, rejoicing in the swirling darkness.
My thoughts turn chaotic. Deep whiskey eyes and a mischievous smile. The whimper of my name, a weight off my chest. A free fall.
I fell hard.
No, I’m falling—a ctually falling.
I attempt to catch myself, but my heavy arms aren’t quick enough, and I crash face-first. My world spins, and I decide staying on the floor is better than trying to stand. So I don’t.
“What in the actual fuck are you doing?”
I know that voice. Reality pierces through the haze, and I realize I’m in the room of the person who possesses the phone number I need. The problem is, I’m sprawled on the carpet, and standing is a monumental task when the floor is a tilt-a-whirl.
I groan and roll onto my back.
Jackson chuckles. “Wow, Coach. Can you even stand?”
Summoning all my strength, I push myself into a sitting position and cradle my head in my hands. “I need Aurora’s number.” My words are a drunken scramble.
“What are you saying? Jesus, it’s two in the morning.”
I lean against the wall and slowly articulate my thoughts. “I need. Aurora’s. Phone number.”
It doesn’t take him long to figure it out. After all these months, why else would I want to call her?
His expression contorts with rage, and his fists clench. “Are you fucking serious?” He shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not. You didn’t want her then and don’t deserve her now.”
“I was married?—”
He looms over me. “So, what? You’re single and think you have a right to her?She’s not a second option!”
Somehow, I muster the last of my sobriety to face his anger—self-preservation and all. “I’m sorry. I was in a bad place.”
“And what? You’re in a good place now?” He scoffs. “You’re shitfaced and can hardly hold your head up. Real fucking mature, Coach . Weren’t you the one who told me to stop trying to solve my issues with alcohol?”
He mocks my title and guidance, and I realize I’ve only worsened the situation.
“Yeah, I have a problem facing my problems.” I sound like a tool, but at least it’s the truth. “But I just found out I’m having a baby with a woman who has every right to hate me.” I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “Oh, and you love her, so there’s that.”
He sits on the edge of the bed and drops his head into his hands.“How the fuck did this happen?”
“Condom broke,” I mutter.
“Shut the fuck up. It was a rhetorical question. God, I wish you were sober so I could beat the shit out of you.”
I regret being here, but I’m desperate. I pull myself to my feet, holding the table for balance. “I don’t want her. I want to be involved.”
“Fuck off. I saw you and her, remember? If that were true, my feelings for her wouldn’t concern you—they don’t concern you.”
Well, damn.
I stumble to the mini-fridge, grab a bottle of water, and chug it, attempting to clear the fog of alcohol from my head.
But my mind has a singular focus. “Can I please have her number?”
“Are you a fucking idiot?” He holds my blank stare. “The answer is no. You’re intoxicated. You’ll do something impulsive, such as call her at two in the morning. She deserves better, and she’s resting.” His gaze drops to his phone, inadvertently raising my hopes.
“You’ve changed from that person who ignored and demeaned her.”
“Are you trying to piss me off?” He flashes his screen too quickly for me to comprehend. “And here I was, about to show you a picture of your kid.”
I snatch the phone, trip over my feet, and nearly fall on my face. Again.
Seated across from him, I stare at the grainy photo of my son, and tears fill my eyes. I now understand Jackson’s irritating smile.
The ultrasound pic doesn’t reveal more than the baby’s closed eyelids, button nose, and pouty lips, but it’s a small glimpse into my future, making everything incredibly real.
Holy fuck, I’m having a son.
I swallow the lump in my throat and return his phone. “Can you text it to me?”
His knee bounces. “Yeah, now, get out of my room.” Not glancing my way, he gestures toward the door.
“Jackson—” What could I possibly say to ease his heartache? “I’m sorry.”
He glares at me, his jaw clenched so tight, the muscle furrows. “I won’t let you have her.”
“I never thought you would.”