Chapter 59 Everett
EVERETT
“That’s a baby,” I blurt, my eyes wide as I stare at the screen.
The sonographer chuckles lightly as Bea sniffles, her hand holding mine tightly as we stare at our baby.
“Yep, that’s a baby,” Nancy, the woman manning the wand attached to Bea’s growing stomach, confirms.
I stare in awe, able to make out a head, a body, two arms, two legs, and even some little fingers and toes.
“It’s incredible,” I breathe. “You’re growing a person, sweetheart. A real-life person. That’s insane.”
Nancy chuckles again, but Bea doesn’t make a sound, and when I rip my eyes from the screen and look at her, I realize why. Silent tears trickle down her cheeks, and her bottom lip trembles, but there’s so much happiness radiating from her, it makes my heart hurt in the best kind of way.
How she could think I could ever grow bored with her is beyond me. She is, hands down, the most incredible person I’ve ever met. No matter how much I learn about her, I crave more. I fear that it’ll never be enough. I hope it’s never enough.
Watching her stomach grow and her body change is the most mesmerizing thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’m ridiculously excited to see what the next twenty weeks bring.
Usually, the only thing I really look forward to is the season starting, but this year, I’ve barely given it any thought.
No, that’s a lie. This year, I’m dreading it.
How am I going to cope with being so far away from Bea and our bump, and then Bea and our baby so often?
I don’t want to see her bump grow through a screen, or miss out on the first smile, the first steps, the first everything, because I’m on the other side of the country.
Those familiar feelings of not being good enough for those who love me resurface, and I drop my gaze from Bea as I try to fight against them.
I so desperately want to be good enough for both of them. But I don’t know how.
Sure, I can take Bea out and buy her designer maternity clothes. I can create the most incredible nursery for our little one. But none of that is what matters, not really.
What they need is me. Showing up for them time and time again.
But what if I can’t? What if I lose myself in the losses and the darkness that so often tries to claim me?
“Everett?” Bea questions.
I have no idea how much time has passed where I’ve gotten lost in my own head, but as Nancy says, “I’ll give you guys a minute,” and walks out of the room, I figure it must have been a while.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, pushing to my full height and reaching for the tissue in Bea’s hand so I can help her clean up.
“No, wait,” she says, grabbing my hand and stopping me. “Look at me,” she demands when I don’t do anything.
It takes me a couple of seconds to follow her orders, but eventually, I do, and the second our eyes collide, her breath catches.
That’s the thing with Bea: while everyone else might miss what I’m feeling or how much I’m suffering, she doesn’t. She knows. She always knows.
“Talk to me,” she encourages softly.
I clench and unclench my teeth a couple of times as I try to find the words. She deserves all the fucking words and for me to try and open up in a way I never have with anyone.
“I’m scared I won’t be able to be what you both need,” I confess, desperate to look away as the words tumble free, but unable to break our connection.
Her grip on my hand tightens, and when she tugs me closer, I’m powerless but to let her draw me in.
“I have never asked, or expected you to be perfect,” she tells me, steadily and slowly, making sure I hear every word. “All we need is you. For you to show up, for you to try your best. For us to try our best together.”
“B-but I’m going to be away and—”
“And that’s okay. That’s your job. Is it going to be hard?
Of course. But think of the positives. Think about our little one at your home games, wearing your jersey.
Think about summers off, spending every day with them.
Think about the first time you put skates on them and teach them how not to fall on their ass every five seconds. Think about when you get to—”
“What about you?” I ask, cutting her off.
“What about me?” she asks with a frown.
“What about you being at home games wearing my jersey? What about spending the summer with you? What about teaching you to skate and not letting you fall on your ass?”
Her mouth opens and closes as she tries and fails to find words.
“I want that,” I tell her.
As if it’s painful to hear, she closes her eyes.
“It’s okay that you don’t, though. I get it.”
Her eyes fly open. “I never said that,” she argues.
“You don’t have to. I can see it in your eyes.”
“They were closed,” she counters.
“Fine. I can read your mind.”
“Then you’re shit at it, because that isn’t what I was thinking at all.”
“So what—”
“I want all those things, too. But I’m scared.”
“Of me letting you down?” I guess.
“Never. I know that won’t happen.”
Her confidence in me rocks me to my core.
“Then what are you scared of?” I ask, confused.
“Of…everything,” she says with a laugh. “Of being a mom. Of trying to do that and run a business. Of trying to be enough for everyone. Not all that different from how you’re feeling,” she says, her eyes widening to try and nail her point home.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“But as much as I wish we could make all that go away, we can’t. We’re always going to be scared of something; it’s how we deal with it that makes the difference.”
“I’m not very good at dealing with shit.”
“But you are. Look at everything you’ve done for me.”
“That’s different. It’s—”
“It’s being scared but embracing it and moving forward into unknown territory regardless.
Will we always win? Absolutely not. But much like when you’re out on the ice, we’re a team.
We do this together: the hard bits, the easy bits, and all the bits in between.
We lean on each other when things get challenging, we talk things through, and we change up the play if necessary.
Every day is a new start, another game where we can try to come out on top and—”
Her words are abruptly cut off as my lips crash down on hers.
I don’t mean to, but hearing her talk my language pushed me over the edge I’ve been teetering on since stepping between her legs in her bedroom earlier.
Tucking my hand under her neck, I tilt her head up. Her lips part, and her tongue sneaks out, colliding with mine and turning the heat up on our kiss.
I lick into her mouth, drowning in her taste and the way she kisses me back as if she’s been dreaming about it every single night, as I have been.
Her hand grips my hip, holding me in place—as if I’m going anywhere. But it doesn’t last more than a few seconds before it slips upward, under my T-shirt, and her soft skin connects with mine.
I swear, every single muscle in my body tenses with her touch, and in shock, I pull back from her kiss.
“Bea,” I breathe, resting my head against hers.
She licks her swollen lips, her eyes searching mine.
No words are said out loud, but the silence between us screams, “We’re not done. That was nowhere near enough.”
“We should probably go,” Bea eventually whispers.
I close my eyes and suck in a long breath in the hope of calming myself down. Walking out of her bedroom with a raging boner earlier was one thing, but out into a waiting room full of expectant mothers is another entirely.
“I was going to take you for lunch, but all I really want to do is take you home and continue what we just started,” I confess, opening my eyes again and finding hers.
“I’d settle for takeout.”
The bag of sandwiches in my hand slips from my fingers and collides with the floor at the same time Bea’s back hits the wall, the front door falling closed beside us.
“Can’t wait any longer,” I tell her, a beat before my lips collide with hers.
Her gasp of shock rings through the air, but she doesn’t even try to stop me. Instead, her arms wrap around my shoulders, holding me close as I devour her.
Every tight muscle in my body begins to uncoil the longer our kiss goes on. I’ve been waiting for this since the moment she walked away from me in that club. I might not have known it then, but I do now.
Every second of every day since that night, I have been waiting for this woman.
I pin her to the wall with my hips, desperate for more, but also frantically trying to hold back. She might be meeting me step for step here, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to push her too hard.
“Fucking hell,” I groan as I kiss across her jaw and down her neck. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been, holding back these last few weeks?”
“Uh-huh.” She gasps, no doubt able to feel that hardness against her belly.
“You’ve been driving me crazy. Walking around here in that thin T-shirt, your legs on display. All I can think about is what’s beneath them.”
“Everett,” she gasps as I suck on the sensitive patch of skin beneath her ear.
Her fingers sink into my hair, holding tight and sending a shot of pain down my neck.
“You still haven’t done your hair,” she complains.
I still, a smile pulling at my lips. “Is that what you’re really thinking about right now?”
“N-no. I just…P-Parker…Party…Photos…”
My smile grows, aware that I’m the reason she can’t form a proper sentence.
“I told you, baby. I’m waiting for you to do it.”
“But—”
“I trust you.” I pull back and look into her eyes so she can see the truth within them. “I’ve even got all the stuff ready.”
“What?”
“I’ve got all the equipment you need to cut and dye my hair.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I don’t think that’s news to anyone, sweetheart.”
“I’m a trained beauty therapist, not a hairdresser. They’re very different things.”
“I trust you,” I repeat, my eyes jumping between hers and her swollen lips.
“I—” Her argument is cut off when her stomach rumbles incredibly loudly, reminding me that I abandoned our lunch in favor of getting my mouth on her.
“I need to feed you, then you can do my hair.”
“Everett, I can’t—” I silence her with my lips before taking her hand, collecting the bag, and taking them both to the kitchen.
“There isn’t anything you can’t do, sweetheart.”
“If I fuck it up, Parker will never forgive me.”
“Firstly, you won’t fuck it up. As you said, it’s grown out and looks like shit.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Maybe not those exact words, but we both know it’s what you meant.”
“I didn’t…” Her eyes jump to my outgrown hair, and I know she’s thinking exactly that. “It does need doing, though.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll be happier giving you a facial, manicure, and back massage.”
“How about I take everything that involves you having your hands on me?”
“You’re a menace.”
“I’ll be anything you want me to be, baby,” I say with a wink as I slide her sandwich toward her.
Her laughter is light, and it wraps around me like a warm hug I never want to step out of.
“Can you get the picture out?” I ask, glancing at her purse sitting on the other end of the counter. “I want to see him again.”
“Him?”
“Or her,” I counter.
“Are you still okay with not finding out today?” she asks nervously, as if I could regret anything when it comes to her.
“Not at all. The surprise will be exciting. Boy or girl, they can both wear the jersey I’m going to get to match yours.”