16. Jinx
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jinx
The highway unfurls endlessly before me, a gray ribbon lined with blurred green exit signs and a steady stream of cars whooshing past, their engines humming a monotonous tune.
My breath comes in uneven bursts, and a band of tension squeezes my chest, making each inhale feel like a struggle.
I shouldn’t have let this happen.
Tears well up, distorting my view of the road with their hot, furious haze.
A scream rips from my throat, raw and desperate, as I slam my palm against the wheel. The sharp sting in my hand is a futile attempt at relief, but it’s the only outlet I have.
How did I let it get this far?
I should have kept things professional, maintained that invisible line. I should have known better.
But no, I had to convince myself that I could just… have this, that I could share in the happiness Kenzie and Ally found.
That a harem could actually function without chaos.
A bitter laugh escapes me, a mocking echo in the confined space of the car, as I veer onto a longer route to work, purposefully bypassing red lights and avoiding stops that would force me to pause and reflect.
My stomach churns violently, though it’s not solely the morning sickness causing turmoil. It’s the crushing weight of my own foolishness.
How long before my parents come across the headline? How long before I receive that inevitable call: the one where their voices are thick with disappointment and anger, demanding explanations for the choices I’ve made?
At a stop sign, I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing down the lump in my throat and swallowing hard.
And what the hell am I supposed to do when they discover I’m pregnant, too?
As soon as I pull into the parking lot, the tires barely come to a halt before I shove the gear into park and push the door open with a frantic shove. The acrid tang of bile rises up my throat, and I vomit onto the rough, oil-stained asphalt.
The sharp burn sears my throat, and tears sting my eyes as I lean against the cold, dented metal of the car for support. My entire body quivers uncontrollably with mounting dread.
I am so fucked.
With a shaky hand, I wipe my mouth on the back of my sleeve, trying to steady my breathing with ragged, uneven gulps of air. My mind spins furiously, cycling through every possible disaster like a relentless, nightmarish highlight reel.
What if I get fired? What if I can’t land another job? Who in their right mind would hire me now that I’m plastered across every national tabloid?
My chest constricts painfully, and I force myself to stand upright, pressing a trembling hand against my churning stomach.
I can’t afford to let myself unravel right now. I have to step inside that building. I have to maintain the facade that I can handle this.
I push through the front doors of the rink, the cold air biting at my cheeks as I keep my gaze fixed on the scuffed tiles beneath my feet. The curious eyes of onlookers prick my skin before I even meet their gazes.
Ally and Kenzie’s voices echo through the space, laced with concern as they call out my name, but I don’t pause. I can’t afford to.
The panic is a tight knot in my chest, threatening to unravel if I acknowledge them for even a moment.
My boots clatter against the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls as I stride down the hallway. I pass the familiar scent of sweat and ice near the locker rooms, the muffled cheers from the rink entrance just a distant hum.
My destination looms closer with every step.
I practically tumble into my office, the door slamming shut with a force that reverberates in my bones. I lean forward, resting my forehead against the cool, solid wood, and exhale shakily. My breath is a ragged whisper in the silence.
For a fleeting moment, I let the intrusive thoughts in: flashes of newspaper headlines blaring accusations, the endless stream of ruthless online comments, and the press’s relentless, judgmental eyes that seem determined to haunt me forever.
The moment is shattered by a sudden, sharp knock at the door. I barely have a second to gather myself before Coach Walker enters, his face a mask of neutrality that offers no clues to his thoughts.
“Come with me,” he instructs, his voice steady and firm.
My stomach twists with dread, a sinking feeling that anchors me to the spot.
Coach’s office feels like a sauna, the air thick with tension and the scent of old paper. I lower myself into the worn leather chair across from his cluttered desk, my hands clenching into tight fists on my lap.
The silence drags on, heavy and oppressive, until he finally clears his throat.
“I’m assuming you’ve seen the news,” he says, his voice gravelly with frustration.
I release a slow breath through my nose, trying to keep my composure. “Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
Coach rubs his temples as if trying to massage away a migraine, his expression weary. I understand his concern, but it’s my future that’s on the line, not just the team’s reputation.
“This is bad, Jessica,” he says, his use of my real name reinforcing the weight of the situation. “We’ve been working to maintain a family-friendly, clean reputation. And this—this whole thing,” he gestures vaguely with his hand, “isn’t it.”
I press my teeth into the inside of my cheek, a silent rebellion forming inside me. I refuse to apologize for who I am or the choices I make in my personal life.
“You do realize I’m not the only one in a relationship like this, right?” I challenge, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
Coach leans forward, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes me squirm. “No, but you’re the only one to get national attention and embarrass the organization with your antics, aren’t you?”
His voice cuts through the air like a knife.
“See, those other situations? They can keep their heads down. Stay out of the spotlight. But you,” he scoffs, “you want to go have sex in public and act like there aren’t cameras following the players everywhere.”
His words slam into me, leaving me breathless, like a punch to the gut.
I sit there, speechless, my heart pounding like a drumbeat in my chest, as the world continues to unravel around me.
I cross my arms tightly over my chest, feeling the frustration simmering just below the surface. “I get it, Coach. I really do,” I say, keeping my voice steady and controlled like a tightrope walker balancing on a thin line. “I was already thinking about going back to college anyway. Guess I just needed a push.”
Coach leans back in his worn leather chair, his fingers massaging his temples as if trying to ease away the tension. “That’s not what I want, Jinx. You’re good at your job. I hate to lose you over this mess.”
I force a small, strained smile to my lips. “Well,” I say, “now you don’t have to fire me. I quit.”
His mouth forms a tight line, but he gives a reluctant nod. “I’ll miss having you around.”
I stand up from the chair, eager to leave the office before my emotions start to unravel like loose threads.
“You know,” he calls out just as my hand touches the cold metal of the door handle, “you could always just…stop seeing them.”
I grip the handle tighter, feeling the coolness seep into my skin. “I really can’t promise something like that.”
With that, I walk out, trying to keep myself from hurling again.
Sitting in my car, I pull out my phone and open the group chat. My fingers hover over the digital keyboard, hesitating for just a moment before typing.
Moving back into my own place. Also, I’m pregnant. You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to be. No hard feelings.
I hit send, the decisive tap echoing like a finality in the quiet confines of the car.
Almost instantly, my phone vibrates with urgency—each buzz a cascade of messages flooding in from all three of them, their words waiting impatiently on the screen.
I don’t read them.
Instead, I turn up the volume of the music, letting the pounding rhythm and soaring melodies wash over me, drowning out the whirlwind of thoughts in my mind.
As the car hums along the road back to Rowan’s house, the familiar landscape blurs past the windows. It’s time to pack.
Time to be done with this whole damn thing.
When I pull into the driveway, my phone screen is practically burning with notifications.
The boys are pissed. But I don’t really know why.
They wanted honesty, right?
That’s what I gave them.
I’m not going to lie about the pregnancy. I’m not going to keep the kid from them.
What else do they want?
Don’t they see everything’s falling apart?
I shake my head, pushing the phone deep into my pocket as I grab an empty duffel bag from the hallway closet.
I don’t have much stuff here, just enough to fit in my car. But my reptile tanks, my actual essentials? Those are going to take more than just one trip.
I sigh and pull up a truck rental site, frowning at the prices.
Great. Another expense.
A knot settles in my stomach, but I push through it. Just a few more things to pack, and then I can be gone.
I get to work, organizing my closet, packing up my clothing. Then I move to the bathroom, grabbing my soaps, my toothbrush, my shampoo, and my conditioner.
It feels so strange leaving like this, without closure, but I don’t think I need any. I shove all of my stuff into the bag, zipping it up before moving on to the few dressers I’d forgotten.
Suddenly, the front door slams open, reverberating off the living room wall downstairs.
I freeze mid-fold, gripping the sweater in my hands as I hear their footsteps gallop up the steps. Bruno, Rowan, and Thomas barrel into the room, their faces contorted and red .
“You’re just leaving?” Bruno snaps, arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes burn with an anger I haven’t seen yet, and it pisses me off instantly.
How dare you think you have a right to be angry!
“You didn’t tell us you were pregnant.” Rowan’s voice is quieter, but there’s a deep pain there that I don’t like.
I roll my eyes, turning back to my packing. “I did. I texted you.”
Thomas scoffs. “Oh, yeah, great way to break life-changing news. You really think you can just throw us away like this? You think you have the right to get us all attached to you and then just toss us like we’re leftover pizza?”
I exhale through my nose. “I’m not throwing anyone away. I just—” I shake my head. “I’ve never been the relationship type, okay? I’m independent. That’s not going to change just because there’s a kid in the mix.”
Bruno steps forward, jaw tight. “That’s not fair, Jinx. You don’t get to make this decision for all of us. You don’t get to meet our families and?—”
“That’s not fair, Bruno,” I retort, feeling myself rising with anger. “I didn’t ask to meet your grandma, you took me to meet her. In fact, you told her about me when we were just sleeping together—we weren’t serious!”
The admission sets them all off, each one of them sputtering over each other, trying to make points about shared breakfasts and intimacy, walks we took, and conversations we had.
I feel myself welling up with emotion at their words, my eyes filling with tears as I see the hurt expressions on their faces. I didn’t know how seriously they felt for me before this…
Thomas runs a hand through his hair. “And what if we want to be involved? What if we still want you?”
“Still want me?” I ask, my voice incredulous. “Hasn’t all of this proven to us we shouldn’t be together, I don’t… I don’t even know if I could be with one man, let alone three! What do I know about being a girlfriend, a wife? Now I’m going to be a mother, and that’s another thing I don’t even know how to do!”
Rowan steps forward and looks me dead in the eyes. “We’re in love with you, Jinx. Can’t you see that?”
The air is sucked out of the room.
I can’t handle this.
I won’t, and I don’t have to.
They’re ganging up on me, trying to clip my wings and pressure me into something I’m not ready for.
Something that frankly, terrifies the fuck out of me.
So I grab my bag, the one closest to me, with half of my closet and all of my toiletries.
I shove past them, storming out and slamming the door myself on the way.