Chapter 19 - Everett
EVERETT
Itake the long way home in the hope it helps to clear my head. But it doesn’t. All I can see is that black and white fuzzy screen with a little baby in the middle.
I always thought that one day I might find a woman I could stand to spend more than one night with and maybe start a family.
But it was a thought for the future. I’ve still got loads of time for those sorts of things.
Right now, my only focus is hockey. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.
I’m damn good at my job, but I’m always very aware that it could be stolen from me at any moment.
One wrong intercept, one slam into the boards, one lapse in judgment, and it could all come crashing down around my feet.
I’ve seen it happen to teammates all my life. What’s to say I’m not next?
But while I’m fit and healthy, hockey is it. I don’t have time for anything else.
I see the other guys in relationships and with families. I see how they spend their days battling to be the player the team demands and the husband and father their family needs. I can’t imagine trying to balance both.
But have I had that choice taken away from me?
The sun is setting by the time I pull up in my parking spot in my underground garage and head toward my new apartment.
Parker and Linc chose it for me while I was packing up my life in Seattle.
It’s great. Loads of space, modern. The perfect bachelor pad.
It doesn’t feel like home, though. Being here is like being in any of the hotels we stay in while we’re on the road.
I’m more than ready to lock myself away and try to put the events of today out of my mind, as if that’s going to be possible, but the second I turn the corner toward my front door, that plan goes up in smoke.
“Ah, so you are still alive,” Casey quips. Beside her stands Freya, our goalie’s girl.
“So it would seem,” I mutter as I march straight up to them, happy that they jump apart so I can get to my door. “Did you want something?”
There’s a moment of silence that makes me nervous, and the second I’ve opened my door, I turn back to look at them.
“A-are you okay?” Casey stutters. I’ve known Casey almost all of my life. She’s been my sister’s best friend since they were in diapers. But while we’ve spent plenty of time together, both on and off the ice over the years, we’ve never really been friends.
“Am I okay?” I repeat, confused by her sudden concern.
“Yeah.”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Because you single-handedly lost the Stanley Cup. Because you let your friends and teammates, hell, the entire city, down. Because you’re a disappointment and your trade is probably being discussed at this very moment. Perfect timing to move across the country when you’re about to become a father.
“We…um…”
“Just spit it out, Watson,” I bark.
“Can we come in?” Freya asks, speaking for the first time.
I sigh but turn into my apartment, allowing them to follow.
“We’ve been trying to contact you,” Casey says as I march into my kitchen and pull a bottle of water from the fridge.
I don’t offer them one, letting them know that I don’t want them here.
“You found me. Well done. Now, if you could get to the point, that would be fantastic.”
“Nothing like feeling welcome,” Casey deadpans.
“We met someone in the restroom at the arena before the last game,” Freya says. “She…she was really upset, told us something.”
I study them as they stand nervously in my kitchen.
They know.
“Then you played like—”
“An asshole,” Casey interrupts.
“Y-yeah,” Freya agrees before glancing at her.
“Rett,” Casey sighs. “Have you gotten someone pregnant?”
I take a step back as if her words hit me like a physical blow. I bump into the counter behind me, and my free hand wraps around the cool granite, my grip so tight my knuckles turn white.
My eyes drop to the floor as my heart begins to race.
This is too real.
It isn’t just me, Hailee, Bea, and her friend who know.
If Casey and Freya know, does that mean the guys do? Does Parker? Do my parents?
“Rett?” Casey says softly as she steps closer.
“I don’t know,” I confess quietly. “Maybe. Yes.”
“Shit.”
She steps right in front of me, so close that the sweet scent of her perfume filters through my nose.
I look up, and the second our eyes meet, she gasps and throws her arms around me.
I want to fight it. I want to shove her away and kick them both out of my apartment. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need her hug.
“I’ll make coffee,” Freya says from the other side of my kitchen, and the next thing I know, Casey is leading me to my couch. She sits down beside me and stays silent, but her eyes never leave me.
Eventually, Freya appears with three mugs and places them on the coffee table before she takes a seat on the couch opposite.
“Take your time,” Casey says softly.
“Fuck,” I breathe, resting forward and dropping my head into my hands.
“We haven’t told anyone,” Freya confesses. “We wanted to talk to you first. We didn’t know for sure. We only guessed and—”
“I went to her ultrasound today,” I blurt.
“Shit, so it’s true. It’s yours?”
“I’ll find out in five to ten days,” I mutter.
“Wow. Shit. That’s…I mean, we thought but…we also didn’t—”
Finally, I drag my head up and look Casey straight in the eyes.
“What the fuck am I going to do?”
Casey and Freya stayed for an hour. Obviously, they had about as many answers as I did, but I can’t deny that it felt good to talk about it. I might not have dived into just how terrified I am, but I’m pretty sure they could see it oozing from me.
As I would have expected, Casey was brutally honest with me. She’s never been one to beat around the bush, and honestly, it was exactly what I needed. Freya didn’t talk much; she mostly listened, but I felt her support and appreciated it too.
Neither of them needed to turn up here and wait for me. They could have gone running and told all the guys. But instead, they’ve chosen to support me. Honestly, just that thought alone chokes me up a little.
Maybe Casey had been my friend all this time, I was just too pig-headed to see it.
The days pass in a blur. I spend my evenings locked in my apartment alone, drinking like it’s going out of fashion, and then I spend most of the day either in bed or sweating it out in my home gym.
It isn’t the existence I crave. Being alone is a trigger for me.
It forces me to think and sends me deeper into whatever I’m dealing with.
My cell continues to buzz with messages and calls, but I don’t answer any of them.
They should hate me. I fucked up their chances of winning the cup, and I’m keeping a huge secret from them. Well, a potential secret.
Every time my cell goes off, my heart lurches into my throat, thinking it’s going to be the results, and a multitude of emotions collide within me as I think about both options.
I’m fucking terrified that they’re going to be positive. That I’m going to be responsible for another human being. That I’ll have entangled some innocent woman in my chaotic life.
But then I think about it being negative, and I swear a little grief passes through me.
It’s weird. It should be relief.
It’s crazy, but there’s a part of me, this really small part buried way, way down, that craves the normality of being a part of a family.
My childhood was probably the calmest, happiest time of my life.
What if I could find that again, but as an adult?
Would it help banish the demons and the darkness, the need to always win?
Or would it do the opposite? If I’m a shit father, will it highlight all my failings and flaws and drag me deeper as I ruin someone else’s life right alongside mine?
The not knowing is driving me crazy. I just need answers.
I like control. I like making my own decisions. This…this is so far out of my comfort zone I’m not even sure I can see it.
It’s the off-season. I should be enjoying myself, and yet, here I am, locked in my apartment, terrified that if I step out, I’ll do something stupid.
Hailee’s warnings ring loudly in my ears.
I can’t get traded again…I just can’t.
This is where I belong. I need to find a way to prove it to everyone.
As the days go on, the walls begin to close in around me.
I need to get out. I need to see people. I need to do something.
My cell taunts me. Her contact is on there. I said that I’d message her. But what the hell am I meant to say?
Hey, this is your maybe baby daddy. How’s it going?
I shake my head.
I just need the results. If I have them, then at least I know which direction my life is about to go in.
Sinking my fingers into my hair, I slump back on my couch.
My cell buzzes, and after a few minutes, I lift it up and stare at the screen and our guys’ chat group as the notifications begin to flood in.
Killer: Anyone wanna go for food?
Handsy: Sorry, I have plans with my hot chef.
Monroe: I’m hungry. Where are we eating?
Storm: I’d love to, but I’m currently enjoying watching my girl rock a bikini on the beach.
“Ugh,” I groan.
Killer: @Big D, you in?
Silence.
It’s not exactly a surprise. Kodie is the least talkative out of the little group I’ve been invited into.
Killer: @Donny hungry?
“Fuck,” I grunt before finally unlocking my cell and opening the message thread.
Donny: Starving. When and where?
Storm: Holy shit. He’s alive. Parker was about to send a search party.
Handsy: She did. She sent us. Fucker wouldn’t open his door, though.
Storm: Parker sent a real search party. One who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Donny: Tell my sister that I’m a fully grown adult who is perfectly capable of looking after himself.
Storm: Fuck off, she knows you better than that.
I roll my eyes.
Storm: You’re good, though, yeah?
Donny: Never been better.
It’s probably one of the biggest lies I’ve ever told. But like fuck am I telling the truth. Parker will be on the first flight home from the tropical paradise Linc whisked her off to a couple of days ago.
Killer: Flipz? Hour?
Monroe: I’m there.
I nod despite the fact no one can see me.
Donny: See you there.
Dropping my cell to the coffee table, I push to my feet and march to my bathroom to wash up.
Going out with the guys is what I need. It’ll be the perfect distraction, and if I’m lucky, it won’t end in a club.
“Shit,” I hiss as I step into the shower.
Killer will want to make a night of it. And as tempting as that is, can I risk it?
One story in the press and Hailee is going to rip my balls off with her bare hands.
I stand there with the water pounding down on my shoulders, my doubt growing.
Before I know what I’m doing, my fists are curled and hurtling toward the tiles beside me.
Pain shoots up my arm, and blood splatters the tiles.
As my frustration grows, so does my anger. Confusion follows it, and only a minute or so later, I sink to the floor, wrap my arms around my legs, and do something I haven’t done in a long time. I cry.
I don’t know how long passes, but when I finally force myself to turn the water off and step out, I feel weirdly refreshed.
Although any relief I was feeling soon vanishes when I get back to my cell, because the second I light it up and find an email waiting for me, my stomach sinks to my feet.
The results.