44 #2
“Hell yeah!”
“Sure,” she said. “Prove it, hockey boy.”
We won that game and the next. The night blurred after that, but we ended up in her room.
The condom broke as I tried to put it on.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “I don’t have another one.”
“Don’t stop.”
“But—”
“I’m on the pill. It’s okay.”
I knew better than to risk it, but I did it anyway.
We spent the weekend drinking, partying, and hooking up.
“I’ll see you around,” I told her Sunday night as I left for practice.
“Let’s do dinner tomorrow,” she suggested.
I gave a noncommittal answer because dinner had never been part of the plan.
She showed up to the rink a few times after that, wanting to go out. We hooked up once more, but after that I made it clear I didn’t want anything serious. A couple of weeks later, my phone rang as I was leaving the arena.
“I’m late,” she said.
I frowned. “Late for what?”
She huffed. “My period is late. I think I’m pregnant.”
Everything inside me went as cold as the ice I’d just skated on.
Pregnant?
The hallway lights blurred. My ears rang. I had to lean against the wall to stay upright.
I was nineteen.
Scouts had been watching me since high school. I was used to the attention, the articles, the rankings. But this was different. Things had just started to get serious. My agent was fielding real calls. Draft projections weren’t just speculation anymore.
And suddenly, all I could think was, It’s over.
For the next two weeks, I barely slept. I couldn’t focus in class. I couldn’t eat. My game was messed up because my head wasn’t there. I kept picturing headlines, contracts disappearing, coaches deciding I wasn’t worth the risk.
I’d worked my entire life for that shot, and it felt like it could vanish because of one mistake.
When she finally told me it was a false alarm, my knees actually gave out in the hallway outside my math class. The relief was overwhelming. But something inside me changed.
After that, I never went near a situation I couldn’t control. I always used protection.
No exceptions.
And more than that—no closeness.
No girlfriends, no “let’s see where this goes.” No late-night talks about the future.
If I didn’t let anyone close, they couldn’t shake my world like that again.
· · ·
Kennedy was awake when I got back home.
“So what did you figure out?” she asked the moment I stepped inside.
I drew a deep breath, forcing myself to hold her gaze. “I love you, Ken. So much. I need you to know that. And I need you to know that all this other stuff, it’s in the past.”
Her lips pressed flat. “Okay,” she said hesitantly. “I’ll do my best, but I’m not sure I can promise I’ll stay calm.”
“I don’t want your blood pressure going crazy again.”
She softened, giving me a small smile as she squeezed my arm. “I’ll be fine, Nash. Just tell me what it is.”
“Okay. Remember I told you about a pregnancy scare in college?” I asked cautiously.
“Yeah.” Her eyes locked on mine. “You think she had something to do with Josh?”
I nodded. It was just a hunch, but it was the only idea that made sense. “They’re both from Massachusetts. And she had an ex who played hockey. Could be nothing, but . . .”
“Seriously, Nash?” Kennedy groaned, dragging a hand through her long hair. “That would be so messed up.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry—”
“Just . . . just give me a minute.”
She slid off the couch, snatched her iPad from the coffee table, and leveled me with a look that had gone from soft to all business. “What’s her name?”
Oh, hell. This was probably a really, really bad idea.
“Babe, maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Nash.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “Her name.”
Fuck.
“Julia.”
Her eyebrow arched, clearly unimpressed.
“I don’t . . . I don’t know her last name.”
Kennedy’s eyes narrowed, the same way they used to when we were kids and I screwed up so our brothers won the game. “You realize that’s not even remotely helpful, right?”
“I know, babe. But it’s not like she was important to me . . .”
Her mouth twitched. “Good save.” She leaned in for a quick kiss, and I took full advantage, deepening it until she laughed and shoved at my chest.
“Nash,” she scolded me lightly, but she was still smiling. “Focus. What was her name again?”
“Julia,” I repeated.
“That’s all you know?”
“Yeah.”
“And she went to the same college as you and Mitch, and you think she knows Josh?”
“Yeah,” I echoed, feeling like an idiot.
“All right. Let’s see what I can do.”
Her fingers flew over the keyboard like she’d been born for this. I was half impressed and half terrified watching her work. I was just about to tell her how hot it was when a knock sounded at the door.
“That’s our lunch,” Kennedy said without even looking up.
“I got it.”
I paid and carried the food inside while her eyes stayed glued to the screen. She’d ordered some kind of pasta. I was setting the plates down when she called out.
“Nash? Is this her?”
I turned, and Kennedy was holding up the iPad.
The photo showed a woman in a too-tight little black dress, posing like she knew every set of eyes in the room was on her.
And, yeah she was hot. There was no denying that.
I took a step closer. It could be her. Dark curls framed her face, spilling over her shoulders, and yeah—she looked familiar. Too familiar.
“Julia Sanchez?” Kennedy asked. “Was that her name?”
My throat felt dry. “Yeah . . . that’s very possible.”
Embarrassment burned through me. Kennedy had just tracked down—in under five minutes—the woman who’d messed me up royally.
“Damn, Nash,” Kennedy grumbled, glaring at the screen. “She’s built like some kind of porn star.”
“Baby,” I groaned, running a hand down my face, “she’s got nothing on you—”
“Oh, hell, of course she does,” Kennedy snapped. “My boobs and ass are nowhere near that size.”
My stomach tightened. I didn’t give a damn about Julia’s body, but Kennedy’s insecurities? Those scared me, because the last thing I wanted was her doubting herself or, worse, doubting me.
“That may be true,” I countered quickly, leaning closer, “but I love you, Ken. I love your body, your mind, and—”
“Shut up, Nash.” Her tone was sharp, and the look she gave me warned me not to push it.
I clamped my jaw shut, swallowing back the urge to argue, to convince her until she believed me. But I knew that sometimes with Kennedy, the more I pushed, the less she heard.
“Is this her or not?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, shoulders sagging. “I think so.”
“You think?” she shot back.
“It was a long time ago, babe. But yeah, I think so. I’ve really tried to forget her, you know? I don’t exactly have the best memories of that time. It was one of the most stressful times in my life.”
Her expression softened instantly, her voice lowering. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I—”
“Ken,” I said, reaching for her hand, needing to feel her, to know we were okay. “Just stop. It’s fine. Did you find out if she knows Josh?”
“Yeah.” Kennedy nodded briskly, a spark of triumph in her eyes. “She does. She’s one of his Instagram friends.”
“Damn.” My chest tightened with equal parts dread and admiration. FBI hackers had nothing on my girl.
“The next step is to figure out if they ever dated. And if so, whether it was before or after you.”
“Sounds logical.”
“I think she’s our best lead so far. Is there anything else you want me to look up before we eat?” she asked, her tone snippier than it had been a minute ago.
I hesitated, and her head tilted, eyes narrowing as she pinned me in place.
“Yeah,” I admitted reluctantly, rubbing the back of my neck. Josh had said girls. “Can you run one more name for me?”
I hated to pile more on her, but if we were going to put this to rest, I needed all the answers.
“Sure.”
“Amy Fallows. She’s from New York.”
“Amy?” Kennedy snorted. “Seriously, Nash? We’re back to fucking Amy?”
“Babe . . .” I winced. Nothing good ever followed when her voice hit that octave.
“Whatever.” Her fingers started flying across the keyboard again.
Less than a minute later, she said, “Amy Fallows, twenty-four years old, employed by the Empires?”
“Yeah,” I exhaled, relief mixing with dread. “What the hell, Ken? You should add this to your résumé. You’re like some master investigator.”
I’d hoped for a smile, maybe even a laugh, but she didn’t even smirk. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen as she murmured, “She knows Josh just as much as she knows you.” Then those blue eyes turned hard, pinning me. “Any reason you’re still following her on Instagram?”
Fuck. My stomach dropped. I was?
“Uhhh . . .” was all I managed as I dragged a hand through my hair.
Kennedy stayed silent. And that silence was worse than yelling.
“Ken, baby . . . I love you. Only you.”
I didn’t know what else to tell her, but it didn’t seem to matter because she just ignored me. Her voice was clipped as she asked, “Did she sleep with Josh too?”
That caught me off guard. I had no idea. I’d never cared who else Amy was with.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. I tried again when she didn’t respond, softer this time, aching to fix the mess I’d brought on us. “Baby, I feel terrible.”
“I know, Nash.” She sighed, putting down the iPad. “It’s a lot. Can we please just eat?”