1. Riley
CHAPTER ONE
RILEY
PRESENT
S itting on the couch, the fireplace flickers off to my right and I stare out the window watching the snow as it begins to fall from the sky above. The winters in Aston were never kind. They were always brutal and relentless. The flurries aren’t big in size and they’re falling at a slower pace—for now. They’re calling for at least a foot, but we usually end up with more than they anticipate because of the cold air that sweeps across the Great Lakes.
“Here,” Nova says as she steps in front of me, handing me a warm mug that has marshmallows crowding around the top of the cup. “I made sure to put extra in it for you.”
A smile pulls on my lips and I adjust myself on the couch, stretching out my legs as I take it from her. She’s added extra marshmallows to make up for the fact that I can’t have the fun hot chocolate the rest of the adults are drinking. I’m stuck with a virgin version.
I look up at my best friend as she sits down on the base of the fireplace and winks at me. This is Nova and Lincoln’s first Christmas in their new house, so they decided to combine their annual Christmas Eve party with a housewarming one. Nova has been bouncing back and forth between tending to Posey while trying to entertain the rest of the guests.
I’ve been relatively useless, keeping to myself as I wallow in my sorrows on the couch. These past few months have been a roller coaster of emotions and stress. A combination of shitty news from my doctor and being alone for the holidays has been hitting me deep in my chest.
“Hey.”
I turn my gaze away from the fireplace, glancing in the direction of where the deep voice came from. Carson Ford, one of the star defensemen from the Aston Archers takes a seat on the couch right beside me. The heady smell of his cologne tickles my nose and I give him a smile.
“Hey, Carson.”
He stares at me for a moment, assessing me with his dark gray eyes. “You seem sad. What’s going on?”
I know Carson well enough that his assessment isn’t unwarranted. I wouldn’t go to the lengths of saying we’re friends, but more so good acquaintances. He plays hockey with Nova’s boyfriend Lincoln and her brother Nash. I know Carson more from association…
And the night at the gala when he saw me with my hand shoved down Nash Simmons’s pants.
Such a good look.
“Oh, you know,” I start with a shrug, and roll my eyes as I place my hand on my noticeable stomach. “Just starring in my own Hallmark movie. Pregnant and alone for the holidays.”
Carson winces, as if he can feel the pain, but he can’t. Luckily for him, he’ll never find himself in the same position I’m in. “Any asshole who doesn’t step up when he gets someone pregnant is someone you don’t need in your life.” He pauses, taking a slow sip of his glass of bourbon as he looks around the house. My gaze follows his, drifting across the people scattered throughout Nova and Lincoln’s home. “He’s a piece of shit, Riley.”
I tilt my head to the side as Carson’s eyes meet mine once more. He’s not wrong, but I’m also to blame for this mess. Sleeping with Chad was a drunken mistake I made after only talking to him for a month or so.
When I found out I was pregnant, I really only told him as a courtesy. I didn’t want anything from him and wasn’t expecting a grand gesture or a relationship. I also wasn’t expecting him to tell me he had no plans for a child. He went on to accuse me of it not even being his, so I dropped the issue. I let it go.
“You’re better off without him,” he muses out loud as he looks around the room again. His movements are slow and a smirk drifts across his lips as he scoots closer and throws his arm over the back of the couch. “How have things been going?”
“Just peachy,” I lie with a snort, a laugh following the sound as I give him the fakest smile. He doesn’t need to know all my problems, so I give him the shortened version. “I’m stressed beyond belief, so I’m just going to pretend like things are fine and drink my weight in hot chocolate while I rot on the couch.”
“Lincoln will probably kick you out before you fully decompose.”
He gives me a serious look before his expression cracks and a string of laughter falls from his lips. I can’t help but laugh with him at the truth behind it. After living with Nash, Lincoln seems to be craving some alone time with Nova and I can’t say I blame him.
“The floral arrangements you made for the party are pretty awesome,” Carson says as he points to the mantle above the fireplace. “Nova said your business is doing really well.”
This time a real smile pulls on my lips and I nod. “It is. It was more of a pipe dream when I first started it and it has grown to proportions I never thought were possible.”
We settle into a comfortable, neutral conversation, talking about flowers and hockey. It’s extremely platonic and I welcome the comfort of talking to him. Carson has always been an easy person like that and his looks match his personality. I’ve never really looked at Carson in that way, but I’m not blind to how attractive he is.
Carson doesn’t notice me staring and I quickly pull my gaze from his face, glancing around the room. Nova is sitting on the floor with Posey, while Lincoln is standing with Caleb and Rowan. As my eyes continue through the living room, the air gets lodged in my throat as I meet a pair of stark, bright blue eyes watching me.
Nash stands by the doorway, leaning against the wall with his shoulder, as he lifts a glass of whiskey to his lips. Another one of the players, Hayes, is talking to him, but Nash doesn’t appear interested. Hell, it doesn’t even look like he’s paying any attention to Hayes.
No.
He’s just blatantly staring at me.
I don’t miss the way his eyes narrow, momentarily traveling from Carson and back to me. The space between my eyebrows creases the slightest as I study him. The muscle in his jaw tightens before he says something to Hayes. Carson taps on my shoulder, earning my attention again as he excuses himself from the couch and disappears into the kitchen.
I’m left sitting by myself in a room full of people moving about. When I look back toward the far wall, Nash isn’t there anymore. An exasperated, defeated sigh deflates my lungs. I need to get myself out of this damn funk. A possible pregnancy complication is scary, but it isn’t a death sentence, so I can’t let the news from my doctor drag me down like this.
I was first diagnosed with postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome—aka PoTS—when I was a teenager. As I got into my twenties, it was virtually nonexistent, but my symptoms came back after I got pregnant.
Everything was fine until I had an appointment earlier this week that had them concerned. I’ve been experiencing some increased swelling in my feet and ankles. The doctors have said it isn’t a concern, yet, but they’re talking about putting me on modified bed rest, all things considered.
The last thing they want is to have to deliver this baby early. I’m only thirty-three weeks, so ideally, we need more time before the baby comes. I’m already terrified of having a C-section, but it isn’t just about it being a major surgery…
The cost terrifies me.
Moving my feet from the couch, I set them down on the floor and lean forward to stand up when I see a pair of bright white sneakers step in front of me. Trailing my gaze along the dark washed jeans and gray sweater, I stop when I reach Nash’s face.
He doesn’t say anything, he just stares. My heart pounds erratically in my chest a dozen times before he moves to sit next to me. Nash remains silent and I slowly turn my body to the side to face him. The air leaves my lungs in a rush as I find his gaze fixed on me.
“Can I help you with something?” I question him as I lift an eyebrow.
Nash’s throat bobs as he swallows. He seems flustered or annoyed and lifts his hand to rake it through his tousled dark blond hair. “Is there something going on with you and Ford?”
“Carson?” I half scrunch my face. “No, absolutely not, all things considered.” I let out a soft laugh as I rub my hand over my stomach. My face relaxes as the realization dawns on me. The look on Nash’s face when he saw the two of us together… he was trying to assess whether there was anything going on between us. “Would it matter if there was?”
He works the muscle in his jaw, letting out a snort as he shakes his head. “Not at all. I was just curious.”
I want to slap the stupidity out of him, but I keep my hand in my lap, wrapped around my mug. “I’m pregnant and by myself, Nash. The last thing I’m looking to do is get involved with someone else.”
Something inundates Nash’s gaze, but it’s unreadable as he lifts an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
A harsh laugh escapes me and I shake my head. “No one wants to be with someone who’s pregnant with another guy’s kid. And honestly, dating is the furthest thing from my mind.”
“I don’t look at you any differently,” Nash tells me, his voice soft, warm, and gentle like an embrace.
My mouth and throat feel like I swallowed an entire spoonful of peanut butter. I’m at a loss for words, completely caught off guard. I want to question him, I want to ask him what he means, but instead I abruptly change the direction of the conversation.
“Well, other people do.” I force out a laugh as embarrassment and disappointment prick my skin. This wasn’t how my life was supposed to go.
Nash’s forehead creases between his eyebrows. “Who gives a shit what other people think?” He glances around the room, doing a quick surveillance of everyone. You’re coming for Christmas dinner, right?”
The reminder instantly warms my heart. It’s become a tradition over the years that the Simmonses host a big Christmas dinner, where all the strays come to eat. My family moved away a few years ago and I don’t always get the time to go visit them. Now, with the doctor telling me I need to take it easy, I’m really in no position to travel.
“Well, given the fact that I’m not allowed to go anywhere, I need someone to feed me.”
“Why can’t you travel?”
Lincoln suddenly appears in front of us. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” He looks at Nash. “Can you help me get Liam’s car out? They’re stuck in the snow out front.”
“Of course,” Nash tells him, nodding as he gets up from the couch. He stops and looks back at me. “Are you staying here tonight?”
I stare at him for a moment, my heart beating erratically in my chest. Nash lives two blocks away, so I know he’s not spending the night. “I am.”
“Good,” he says with a satisfied smirk and a nod. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
He spins on his heel, leaving me without another word as my head spins. He’s kept me at arm’s length since the night of the gala, careful not to get too close since that moment. I look down at my stomach, feeling an immense amount of conflict.
Considering the circumstances now, I don’t blame him.