Chapter 18 - Everett
EVERETT
What the fuck am I doing?
I had planned to attend the DNA testing and then walk straight back out, get in my car, and fuck off until I had concrete evidence that I needed to be here.
But one look at Beatrice as she paced back and forth across the waiting room, and everything came crashing down.
Just like it did that night.
One look at her on the other side of the plexiglass, wearing my jersey, and I was gone.
I wanted her.
And today, when I walked into that waiting room, nothing had changed. Only, backing her up against a wall wasn’t my first thought. Instead, I wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
There are only two women in my life I’ve ever felt that need with before: my mom and my sister.
It was fucking unnerving to feel it for a woman I barely know. A woman who may or may not be carrying my baby.
When she turned and saw me, I swear, the only thing I could read in her expression was fear.
That, along with Hailee’s confidence in Bea, knocked me for six, and I’ve found myself following her around this hospital ever since.
The moment my ass hits the chair, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and drop my head into my hands.
My heart is racing and my head is spinning.
Beside me, Bea and her friend are silent, and when I glance over, I notice that Bea’s knee is bouncing. She may no longer be pacing, but she’s anxious as hell.
“Can you stop?” The words are out of my mouth before I’ve thought them through.
“I-I’m sorry?” The words are quiet and timid, the complete opposite of the fire that filled her voice as she turned me down that night.
“Your knee. Can you stop it bouncing?”
For a moment, the movement pauses. But then she clearly thinks twice, because she sits a little taller and resumes.
My teeth grind, and when I glance over, I find a defiant smirk on her lips.
Get up. Walk out. Don’t get involved.
Ripping my eyes from her, I let my eyelids lower and take a deep breath.
If, and I mean a really big if, this baby does turn out to be mine, I’ll forever regret walking away from this moment. And if it isn’t mine? Well, then I can walk away knowing that I did the right thing.
With my fists curled, I keep my eyes locked on the scuffed wall ahead of me.
The low rumble of staff and patient chatter fills the air, and people walk back and forth. Every time someone comes out to call another patient in, my heart lurches into my throat. But despite it being long past our allotted appointment time, no one has so much as acknowledged us.
My confusion and anger collide, and I jump to my feet.
“What are you doing?” Bea hisses behind me, but I ignore her as I march toward the reception desk.
“Our appointment was almost thirty minutes ago, yet we’re still sitting here,” I bark, internally cringing at my own rudeness. It’s not this woman’s fault, but unfortunately for her, she’s in the firing line.
“I’m so sorry, sir. The sonographers are running a little behind today.”
“Five minutes would be a little,” I mutter. “She’s pregnant,” I say, throwing my hand behind me to gesture to the woman who was sitting beside me. “She shouldn’t be sitting on that uncomfortable chair for this long because your staff can’t stick to a schedule.”
The woman pales. “I know, and I’m sorry. But there isn’t—”
“Leave it,” Bea sneers as she rushes up behind me. “They’re busy. There is nothing we can do about this. Leave the poor woman alone.”
I turn to look at her, and for the first time since meeting her that night, I really see her.
She isn’t wearing any makeup, or at least, if she was, it’s all been rubbed off.
Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. Her skin is pale, and her hair has been twisted up in some messy kind of knot with strands hanging everywhere.
She’s wearing an oversized hoodie, leggings, and Crocs.
But all those details pass me by, because the only thing I really register is how beautiful she is.
She’s got freckles littered across her nose and cheeks; her eyes are a sparkling light blue, and under the harsh electric lights, they have a hint of violet in them. Her lips are full, as if she’s spent hours kissing someone, not chewing on them anxiously.
My hand flinches at my side, the need to reach out and pull her into me almost too much to deny.
That’s how we got into this mess in the first place.
Assuming this is my mess, of course.
“Either find some patience and manners, or leave. Just because I invited you here, it doesn’t mean you need to be.” Her eyes narrow in challenge, and the air crackles between us.
This is the moment where I could walk out and not have to go through what comes next. But when my feet move, they don’t take me toward the exit.
They lead me back to the empty chair I vacated not so long ago.
“Feel better now?” Bea’s friend snarks. “Have a habit of making women cry?”
“She isn’t crying,” I mutter as Bea wanders back over.
“Then maybe you should look again.”
I do, and I discover that she’s right. The receptionist is wiping her eyes.
Goddamn it. Is there anything I don’t screw up?
“I just…you deserve better care than sitting around like this.”
“I don’t disagree, but we’re not all famous hockey players who probably have doctors on speed dial,” Bea points out before dropping into the chair.
“I’m going to get a coffee. Would you like anything?” the friend asks, hopping to her feet.
“A glass of water would be great,” Bea says, her voice soft once again.
Her friend starts walking off as if I’m not sitting here.
“I’ll take a coffee,” I call.
She freezes, then glances back over her shoulder. Her eyes are narrowed, and I know exactly what she’s going to say before the words leave her lips.
“I wasn’t asking you,” she states before marching from the room.
“Well, isn’t she a delight,” I mutter under my breath.
Bea snorts a laugh beside me.
“Says the one who shouted at the receptionist.”
“I didn’t shout. I was just pointing out the shitty service.”
“It was rude, whatever it was.”
“Things just shouldn’t take this long,” I point out, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Maybe not in your life. But you’re hanging out with us normal people now.”
“I’m not—” I cut my own words off when I realize she probably has a point. Thanks to my father’s success, both Parker and I have lived privileged lives. It’s easy to get swept up by it all sometimes.
When I look over at her, she’s wearing an accomplished smirk.
Silence falls between us as the clock continues to tick forward.
“Still think this is bullshit,” I complain.
She’s about to tell me to leave when her name is finally called.
“Finally,” I grunt, pushing to my feet a second after her.
By the time I’m at full height, she’s standing before me with her hands on her hips and a fierce expression on her face. “You know, you don’t have to do this. If you want to wait until—”
“Your friend has gone,” I point out.
“And I’m a fully grown woman who can attend an appointment alone.”
I glance at the door and then back at Bea. There’s still fear in her eyes, but there’s also excitement and hope.
My gut tells me that she isn’t a bad person. I can demand DNA tests and accuse her of being wrong. But deep down, I really don’t think she’s manipulative enough. She genuinely believes it’s mine, and if I’m being honest with myself, then yeah, there is a chance she’s right.
“You’re not doing this alone,” I state before marching forward and pressing my hand to the small of her back.
The sonographer introduces herself to both of us, and she doesn’t so much as flinch when she hears my name or looks at my face. I breathe a sigh of relief that she has no idea who I am.
Being here is a risk. Anyone in here could recognize me, and the story about me being a baby daddy could hit the internet in seconds.
Unease rattles through me.
I should have taken control of these appointments. Booked them somewhere a little more discreet.
I shake my head as I lower my ass to another uncomfortable chair. Looking back, there are a lot of things I should have done, but it’s too fucking late now.
Bea shuffles up the examination table and gets into position, following orders perfectly. She makes it look effortless, as if she’s done it a million times before. I can only assume she hasn’t.
My heart races as the sonographer squirts some gel on Bea’s stomach and grabs a wand.
She hasn’t stopped talking, telling us what she’s going to be looking for and what to expect.
But I barely hear a word of it. I’m too busy spinning out of control.
And it only gets worse when the black and white fuzz on the screen comes to life.
My eyes are glued to it, trying to decipher what I’m seeing, but I can’t.
“There you go,” the sonographer says, pointing at the screen. “Head, back, legs all tucked up.”
Beside me, Bea sniffles, and I reach out without thought, my fingers entwining with hers as I slide to the edge of my seat, my eyes wide with disbelief.
“Holy shit. That’s a baby.”
Both the sonographer and Bea laugh. They both discuss dates and things, but it all passes me by.
I’m staring at a baby growing in this woman’s belly.
M-my baby.
I just…I don’t…I can’t…
Fucking hell.
I know I don’t have the confirmation from the DNA test yet. But fuck…this is happening.
I’m…I’m going to be a father.
I’m going to have to look after another person.
No, not just another person. Two of them. Because as long as Bea is my child’s mother, I owe it to her to take care of her as well.
She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t go out that night with the intention of having her life entwined with mine.
“Would you like a printout?”
“Yes, please,” Bea says, her voice cracked with emotion.
Finally, I rip my eyes from the screen and take her in. Her cheeks are wet with tears, her eyes red and puffy again.
“Are you okay?” I ask. It’s a stupid question. If she feels even half of what I’m feeling now, then no, she’s not okay.
“I…I don’t know,” she confesses. “All of this…it’s…it’s a lot to absorb.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “You’re telling me.”
Bea cleans up, and only a minute or so later, we’re exiting the room, her clutching her new scan pictures proudly. The second her friend sees us, she comes rushing over, demanding to know if everything is okay.
“Everything looks perfect.”
“The dates line up with the night at the club?” she asks, shooting a glance at me to ensure I get the dig.
“Yeah,” Bea agrees.
“So what’s next? DNA results and …”
“I don’t know,” Bea responds nervously. “I’ve never done any of this before. I have no idea what—”
“Can I take your number?” I interrupt.
“Um…yeah, sure. Probably a good idea,” Bea mumbles as I pull my cell from my pocket, open my contacts, and hand it over.
“Does that mean you’re going to call her?” her friend asks.
“Let’s get the results and we’ll go from there.”
“You don’t need the results,” she snaps. “You can be a decent human being right now.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I shoot back.
“Can you two stop?” Bea pleads. “I’m starving, and I really want to get out of here.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” her friend agrees, linking their arms together and towing her away from me.
“I’ll message you,” I call, but Bea doesn’t respond; she doesn’t even look back.