Chapter 42 Oliver
Oliver
The second Rina mentioned the doctor’s appointment, I asked if I could come. Okay, fine—what I really said was that there was no way in hell I was going to miss it.
Same difference.
She tried to play it cool, shoulders squared, expression inscrutable, like it didn’t matter either way, but I caught the relief in her eyes before she schooled her features back into stone.
That’s Rina in a nutshell.
Just when I think I’m breaking through and making progress, she shoves me two steps back again.
Here’s the thing… She can keep pushing all she wants. But at some point, she’s going to realize I’m not going anywhere.
It’s been twenty minutes since we were shown into a small exam room with pale-yellow walls and paper stretched tight across the table. The nurse took her vitals—weight, temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure. And I asked after each one, with the exception of weight, if it was normal.
Listen, I’m not a total idiot. I know better than to comment on a woman’s weight.
Ever.
So, yeah, I kept my mouth shut and logged detailed notes into my phone like I was studying for an exam.
After handing Rina a cup for a urine sample and a paper to drape over the lower half of her body, the nurse slipped away, promising the doctor would be in shortly.
Shortly, my ass.
That was twenty minutes ago.
“This is ridiculous. Why is it taking so long? Is she coming from out of state?” My leg bounces restlessly, elbows digging into my thighs. Every second that ticks by makes the pressure in my chest worse. I won’t be able to settle until someone tells me our baby is okay.
Rina sits on the exam table, her expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement as she rolls her eyes. “I told you that you didn’t have to come with.”
“And I told you there was no way I’d miss it. I’ll be at each and every appointment.”
“That sounds more like a threat.” Her glare cuts sideways. “Tell me, are you going to be this much fun at all of them?”
I jerk my shoulders. “Probably.”
The door finally opens, and a petite older woman with silver threaded through her dark hair steps inside.
Her warm eyes miss nothing as she greets us with a practiced smile.
She introduces herself, shakes both our hands, then moves to the sink to wash up before snapping on gloves with brisk, efficient movements.
“Let’s take a look and see if we can find the heartbeat,” she says. “Although, it might be a little too early.”
Rina eases back onto the table, the paper beneath her crinkling in the quiet room. Without thinking, I lace my fingers through hers. She squeezes once, her knuckles blanching white. I brush a loose strand of hair off her forehead and press my lips there.
The doctor explains that she’ll be using vaginal ultrasound to find the baby’s heartbeat.
She positions herself between Rina’s legs before carefully inserting the probe.
Silence stretches, each second dragging by like an eternity.
A knot forms in my chest with every beat of nothing.
My pulse hammers so loud, it drowns out the rest of the world.
And then a rapid thump-thump-thump fills the room.
My kid’s heartbeat hits me like a freight train. The impact seizes something deep inside, like that tempo clawed its way in and marked me. That tiny, relentless sound just rewrote every goddamn thing I thought I knew about love.
It’s quick and steady, like rain against glass. For a second, it’s the only thing anchoring me to the world.
Instead of looking at the monitor, I stare at Rina.
Her lashes flutter, her eyes blinking repeatedly, as if she can’t keep up with the wave crashing over her. Her lips tremble, and her free hand lifts without thought to hover protectively over her stomach. Even though she tries to fight it back, I see the raw emotion in her face.
How could she not feel it?
“You hear that, babe?” My voice is hoarse. “We made that.”
Her watery laugh breaks into a sob, and I swear, no matter how long I live, I’ll never forget the sound.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “We did.”
I shift closer, pressing my forehead against hers, our fingers still entwined, as the doctor sets the wand aside. Rina’s lashes are wet as her pulse races against my palm, and I know down to my marrow that this is the moment I’ll measure every other against.
I thought I’d felt pressure before—draft day, playoffs, the weight of millions watching me—but none of it compares to the sound of that heartbeat.
And yet, beneath the awe, a sharp edge of fear slices through me. What if I screw this up? What if I’m not the man she or our baby needs me to be? I’ve spent my whole career performing under pressure, but there’s no playbook for this kind of responsibility.
Rina is stronger than she knows. I see it in the way she holds everything together even when she’s breaking apart inside. She carries everyone else’s burdens while pretending she’s untouched by her own.
The doctor runs through the next steps—follow-up appointments, and what to expect over the coming months—before giving us a reassuring smile. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.”
“Don’t worry, Doc,” I say without missing a beat. “I won’t.”
Her mouth quirks, like she figured as much, before she slips out the door, leaving us alone.
I drag a hand down my face, still reeling. “I can’t believe we heard the heartbeat,” I murmur, almost to myself. “That was insane.”
Rina redresses, buttoning her pants and smoothing her blouse into place with careful precision, like she needs something to focus on besides me. “Definitely makes it more real, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it does.” I close the gap between us and take her hand again, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. The simple contact steadies me, and I hope it does the same for her. “I meant everything I said last night. I’m in this for the long haul. You can count on me.”
Her gaze falters, some of the light dimming in her eyes as she bites her lower lip. “Please don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
It doesn’t sound like an accusation, more like a plea she’s too proud to admit she’s making.
Her words slice right through me. How she still can’t see it—can’t believe a damn thing I’m showing her—doesn’t make sense.
I pull her closer, arms locking tight around her. “That isn’t a promise,” I whisper fiercely into her hair. “It’s a fact. I’m here. Always.”
Instead of answering, she just lets me hold her, leaning into me while my mind replays that tiny heartbeat on a loop.
Nothing compares to it.
Not even the day my name was called at the NHL draft.
That moment changed my life.
This one remade it.
But awe only gets you so far.
There’s a new kind of pressure settling over me now. A responsibility that doesn’t end when the buzzer sounds or the season ends. For the first time, what happens off the ice matters just as much as what transpires on it.
I can already feel her pulling away as we leave the medical building.
The distance isn’t physical, but it’s there in the way her shoulders stiffen and her hand goes slack in mine.
All the bricks I’ve been painstakingly tearing down are being stacked back up, one by one.
Still, I lace our fingers together and refuse to let go as we cross the lobby to the exit.
Outside, the glare of the sun bounces off windshields in the crowded lot.
That’s when I catch a flicker of movement a few rows over, and a man lifts his phone, snapping a quick series of photos before lowering it again.
My jaw locks, fury sparking white-hot, but I don’t slow.
Instead, I shift, sliding my arm around Rina’s shoulders and angling my body to shield her from view.
If they want pictures, they can take them of me.
Not her.
By the time the first headline breaks, they’ll have written their own version of this story about a reckless player, the secret girlfriend, and a baby rumor no one saw coming.
I can take the hit.
But I don’t want them dragging Rina through it.
Once we reach the Porsche, I pop the door open and help her inside before leaning through the opening to stretch the belt protectively across her. The sound of it locking into place feels final.
For just a moment, I remain still. “I know you don’t believe me, but everything is going to be all right.”
Even though she forces a smile, the uncertainty in her eyes gives her away.
Instead of allowing frustration to take over, I press a gentle kiss to her lips before closing the door and circling around to the driver’s side.
As I pull into midafternoon traffic, I twist the radio dial until it lands on an alt-rock station. “For the baby,” I tell her, my tone light and teasing. “I want him or her to grow up with proper music appreciation.”
A fragile smile ghosts across her lips. “You’re insane.”
“What I am,” I counter, glancing at her, “is crazy for you. Don’t ever doubt it.”
Not that long ago, the guys used to joke that I’d never settle down, that I’d retire before it ever happened.
I used to think they were right. But sitting here next to Rina, I know better now.
The hard part wasn’t falling in love. It was letting someone close enough to see the real me.
And wanting to see her just as clearly in return.