28. Jaymie
Jaymie
I was supposed to be sleeping in.
Again.
Now she was in my head every damn minute.
And last night?
She’d looked wrecked.
Not the usual post-game tired. Not the I’ve-been-on-my-feet-all-day ache we all carried. She’d been pale. Unsteady. Her eyes had a glassy, sheen to them that had made something in my chest clench. She told me she was fine. That she just needed a little quiet.
I didn’t believe her.
But I let her go anyway.
Now I was sitting in my apartment, nursing black coffee and watching the sun creep through the blinds, wondering if I should text her. Ask how she slept. If she was feeling better. If she needed anything. Or maybe I should shut the hell up and give her space.
She was a grown woman, who was thirty-one weeks pregnant.
She didn’t need me showing up like some overeager, idiot with a smoothie and a playlist. Those were movies for best friend Jaymie, not future lover Jaymie.
Clearly spirially, I got myself out of bed and somehow ready for the day, nothing like skates on ice to clear the fog that consummed me.
But before I drove off to the rink I shot off one quick text.
Morning Mal! How are yo u feeling?
***
By the time I got to the rink, half the guys were already in the weight room. Darren was in full rookie mode, trying to max out on the bench press like he didn’t have three more hours of skating ahead.
“You trying to impress someone?” I asked, leaning on the bar as he racked the weight.
Darren grinned. “Just staying sharp. Gotta keep the vets sweating.”
“Connor’s old, not dead,” I said, jerking my thumb toward the captain, who was tying a resistance band around his wrist. “You’ll pull something trying to keep up with him.”
Connor smirked. “Flattery’ll get you nowhere, Jay.”
Logan chimed in from the leg press, voice dry. “Speak for yourself. I thrive on compliments.”
“You thrive on protein bars and chaos,” Connor said.
Darren groaned as he sat up. “Jaymie, are you actually going to work out or just heckle me to death?”
“I came for the free show. And because Coach said I had to.”
The banter was easy. Familiar. The kind of teasing that came from knowing one another too well, from months on the road and ice and locker room chirping.
I gave as good as I got, but I was off my rhythm.
Mallory was still in the back of my mind—her face, her voice, the image of her pressing a hand to her lower back as she walked away last night.
She hadn’t texted back.
And I hadn’t stopped worrying.
***
Practice was short—tactical drills, recovery skates, nothing too aggressive. Coach was in a good mood, which made everyone else loose, and chatty. I lingered after we wrapped, not really sure why. The rink was thinning out. Lights dimming. Equipment bags thudding against rubber floors.
I was about to grab my gear and head out when I caught sight of her.
Mallory.
She was walking down the back hallway, headed toward the lot by the surface entrance. Her hoodie was too big, sleeves pulled over her hands. She moved like she was made of glass—each step careful, cautious.
Something was wrong.
I stepped into the hallway just as she stumbled.
She caught herself on the wall with one hand, but the other went to her belly, and her knees buckled. She sank halfwa y to the floor, a breathy sound escaping her lips that didn’t sound anything like okay.
“Mallory!”
I was at her side in seconds, dropping my bag and catching her under the arms just as she slumped.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she mumbled trying to slide back up the wall. "Just a little light headed,"
Logan came flying around the corner, Connor right behind him.
“Shit,” Logan breathed. “What happened?”
“She’s dizzy,” I said, heart racing. “She nearly went down.”
Mallory’s eyes fluttered. “I’m seriously fine.”
“No,” I said sharply. “You’re not.”
Connor was already on his phone, calling Eliza. Logan crouched beside me, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead.
“You’re burning up.” Her skin was clammy, her breathing shallow. She tried to sit up straighter, but I tightened my hold.
“Stop. You’re scaring the shit out of me,” I said, barely keeping my voice level.
“I just got lightheaded—” she started.
“Seriously, Mallory?" I moved my hand over her belly, "This isn’t a shrug-it-off situation.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but her face crumpled instead. “I didn’t want to make it a thing.”
“ It already is a thing,” I said. “And you’re not walking anywhere.”
Connor nodded at Logan. “Get the car. I told Eliza we’re going to the hospital.”
“No ambulance?” Logan asked.
“She’s seems stable, we can take her, but I want her seen now.”
Mallory buried her face in my shoulder, humiliated. I could feel the tremble in her limbs.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” I murmured back. “Youre scaring the hell out of me. That’s all.”