Chapter 30
. . .
Vesper
Sitting next to June in ice-level seats is likely to put me into early labor, and it’s only the first period in the game.
Although I truly hope not, given that I’m only in my first trimester.
“Did you see that, Ves?!” June leaps from her seat and points at the ref, her face contorted with rage. “Rule number one in hockey: Never touch the goalie!”
As June continues ranting at the ref, I watch as the new Rogues goalie, Rhys Sharpe, turns back to the net and takes a pull from his water bottle. He looks as pissed as June does.
“JJ, sit the fuck down before you get ejected from the arena,” Drew calls from the other side of me.
June spins to face Drew. “The ref is acting like there wasn’t goaltender interference from their center, and it was most definitely inside the crease. The Rogues should be on a power play by now!”
“I gotta hand it to her,” I say to Drew when June resets her attention back on the game. “The girl sure knows how to get her point across.”
Drew snorts a laugh and flicks her dark brown hair over one shoulder. She’s wearing a white Rogues jersey tonight with Jones stamped across the back. In around seven weeks, she’ll officially be a Jones herself.
“Listen, this girl right here”—she points at June—“is the deadliest version of her parents. You think Will is a handful? You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen June in action. And I get to spend Christmas Day with her this year.”
“I heard that,” June playfully snipes back, grabbing a taco from the food tray in Drew’s lap and crunching down.
Drew offers her food out to me, and I scrunch up my nose.
“Honestly, if I eat anything, I think I’ll puke. Food is not my friend at the moment.”
She lowers her eyes down my body, looking concerned. “You know, I thought it was my imagination, but have you dropped weight?”
I swallow hard. This past week has been riddled with morning sickness and me making sure I’m never far from a bathroom. Silas’s hockey schedule has been crazy busy as we approach the holidays, so I haven’t wanted to trouble him with my woes. At the end of the day, this is all part of pregnancy.
“Maybe a couple of pounds. Any kind of food smell turns my stomach.”
Drew sets the tray down on the floor and wipes her hands together. “Does Silas know you’re struggling?”
I shake my head and watch as my boyfriend glides onto the ice for a changeover.
He’s got his eyes pinned directly on me, and a shot of warmth flashes through my body.
It’s been two days since we saw each other, and I have never been more excited to start a shift than I am tonight.
When Silas and the guys visit Riley’s after a game, he spends the whole time sitting at the bar, talking to me.
I get that we can spend as much time as we want, curled around each other, on our days off, but there’s something about secretly flirting while I’m working that just does it for me.
“Ves, Silas would want to know if you’re not doing well.”
I turn to look at Drew, my surroundings suddenly going a little hazy. I blink a couple of times to rid the woozy feeling. We plan to spend all of Christmas together, cooking, me coloring and generally hiding away from the world, and the last thing I need is to be sick.
“I’m genuinely fine.” I attempt to convince myself as well as my friend.
She quirks a doubtful brow, but doesn’t push the subject. “Could you do me a big favor next week?”
“Anything,” I reply.
Her eyes drop down my body again. “I booked you in for an additional dress fitting. It won’t be long before you’re showing, and I want to make sure you’re totally comfortable on the day.”
Excitement passes through me, followed by the sharpest stab of dread. I’m so freaking giddy to be a part of Will and Drew’s big day, but also acutely aware that the day I start showing will be the day people start talking about me being pregnant, and that will only spur Kane on further.
Silas hasn’t told me what went down a week ago when Kane paid him a visit, and frankly, I don’t particularly want to know either.
If I could ignore my ex’s existence for the rest of time, then that would make me a very content woman.
Unfortunately for me, narcissists are only happy when they’re the center of everyone’s attention, for good or for bad reasons.
Like she can read my mind, June sits down next to me when the players leave the ice, and the arena noise dies down a little.
“Since I’m in the worst fucking mood ever after that period, why don’t you go ahead and tell me where I can find your ex-boyfriend? I feel like shedding some blood tonight.”
Bursting into laughter, I throw my head back, and that’s when the feeling hits me again—everything tips on its axis, and if I wasn’t sitting down, I would fall through the floor.
“Vesper.” June’s voice infiltrates my daze.
I try to shake it away like I did the first time, but instead, I slip down my seat.
“Vesper, are you okay?” Drew asks this time, panic in her tone.
I haul myself up and hang my head forward. “I feel like …” I roll my lips together, willing my brain to find the right words. “Like I’ve had a dozen cocktails on an empty stomach.”
As I stare down at the black floor, it starts to move, and all I can do is groan. The noise from the crowd becomes more of a murmur, voices fading in and out.
From beside me, I detect motion as June gets up, and then I hear her say something to Drew, but my brain struggles to process her words.
“I feel like shit,” I whisper, attempting to pull a large breath into my lungs. “Like I’m going to pass out.”
It’s not even nine p.m. when I pull back the duvet on my bed and crawl into it, flopping my head down on the pillow. While I didn’t actually pass out in the arena, June and Drew escorted me to the emergency room at the local hospital and had me checked over.
Apparently, low blood pressure and dizziness are a thing when you’re pregnant, especially when you haven’t eaten much due to sickness.
And while thankfully nothing is wrong with the baby, there will be with my checking account if I take any more time off work.
My boss is definitely going to smell a rat if I keep calling in sick, but I’m not ready to break the news that I’m pregnant yet.
When my phone buzzes on the nightstand, I roll over and grab it.
The guys will be finished with the game and press responsibilities, and I just know Silas must have been going out of his mind when he noticed I was gone.
Drew shot Will a text, letting him know that all was okay, but still, I know my boyfriend well enough to predict his visceral reaction.
Boyfriend. Silas Stanton is my boyfriend.
Will I ever get used to that?
Silas
Baby, are you awake? I’m leaving the rink right now and coming over.
Me
I’m awake, and I’m okay, and so is the baby.
Silas
Getting in my truck. I’ll call you when I pull into the garage.
Me
Honestly, stay out for a while. I’m freaking exhausted, and I won’t be any fun if you come over anyway.
Silas
I don’t care about having fun. I care about YOU and our baby.
Me
And I promise you I’m fine. Stay out with the guys and celebrate your win.
Silas
Too late. I’m pulling out of the parking lot.
Me
Texting while driving? Tut-tut.
Silas
Why do you have to always be a smart-ass? I’m literally about to put my truck into drive.
Me
See? I’m clearly well enough to be a brat, so you have nothing to worry about.
Silas
What if I told you that I’m in love with you, obsessed with you and our baby, and if I don’t have you in my arms in the next thirty minutes, I’ll likely lose my shit?
Me
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you telling me that.
Silas
Telling you what?
Me
That you’re in love with me.
Silas
You will one day. I’ve loved you from afar for a very long time, and now I’m waiting for your heart to catch up with mine.
I stifle a yawn and force my eyes to remain open as I type out a reply, determined to stay awake. I want to know every single detail about this man.
Me
When did you fall for me?
Silas
How about I hit the road and tell you that when I have my arms wrapped around you?
Me
As perfect as that sounds, I’m not sure I’ll be awake when you get here.
Silas
It doesn’t matter. Drew gave me her key, and I have the passcode for the elevator.
Me
What did I do to deserve you?
Silas
Ah, well, that’s a really simple answer, Knockout—you exist.