17. Mallory
Mallory
The hallway between the locker room and the back exit always carried this weird blend of bleach and old sweat—like the ghosts of every game and injury lingered there, soaked into the cinderblock. Usually, I powered through without a second thought.
Today, it made my stomach lurch.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, sneakers squeaking faintly as I paced the short strip of polished concrete.
My pulse thudded somewhere in my throat.
The muffled sounds of the locker room filtered through the heavy door—laughter, the rustle of gear being shoved into bags, Logan ’s exaggerated storytelling that always seemed to end in him getting chirped by Connor.
I shouldn’t be this nervous.
It was Jaymie. Just Jaymie. The dorky hockey player with a heart of gold who’d made me an omelet without asking. The guy who, for reasons I couldn’t quite pin down, kept showing up for me—quietly, reliably.
And maybe that was the problem.
He made it easy to want more.
But I couldn’t go there. Not with him. Not with anyone, not now.
I wasn’t ready for more. I wasn’t even sure I could do this pregnancy thing as a whole person, let alone someone’s partner. What if I started to rely on him? What if he got too close? What if I screwed everything up by hoping for something that was never on the table?
No. I wasn’t asking for that.
I was asking as a friend. Strictly as a friend.
He'd offered support, made himself available. He'd said "anything," and this… this counted, right?
I bit my lip and turned toward the door again, fingers curling into fists and uncurling.
I’d told Dakota last night—not because she’d pushed, but because the words had been sitting in my throat for days.
I’d typed them out over three different drafts of a text and finally hit send just before midnight.
Her response had been immediate. Warm. Surprised, but supportive. She’d sent a ridiculous GIF of a dancing baby and then followed it up with, Please tell me you have a doctor’s appointment scheduled.
I had one. Tomorrow morning. Bright and early. And no one to go with me.
Until maybe now.
The door creaked open and Jaymie stepped out, a beanie half-slouched over his curls and a hoodie looped over one shoulder. His cheeks were still flushed from the skate, his mouth stretched in a post-practice grin.
And damn it, he looked good.
His eyes found mine immediately, and that grin softened, like I was the reason he was smiling.
“Hey, Mal.”
God, that smile. All lopsided charm and sincerity. I suddenly forgot how to breathe.
“Hey,” I said, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets. “Got a second?”
He glanced behind him, then back at me. “Sure. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said too quickly. “I mean, kind of. I just,”
He stepped closer, brow furrowing in concern. “You’re not feeling sick again, are you?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No. I’m good.”
I exhaled sharply and stared at the ground for a second, watching the toe of my shoe nudge a scuff on the floor.
“ I have my first doctor’s appointment. Like, for the baby. It’s next week.”
Jaymie’s gaze softened, and I felt his attention settle fully on me, like the world quieted around us.
“That’s great, Mal,” he said gently. “Really.”
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing. “It is. I guess. It just… I don’t really have anyone here. Besides you.”
He blinked, then his lips curved into something soft. Warm.
“I’m honored.”
I laughed, a little breathless. “You don’t have to say yes. I just didn’t want to sit there alone and…”
“Mal,” he said, cutting me off gently. “Of course I’ll go.”
I looked up, heart thudding.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he said, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Just send me a calendar invite. I’ll put it on my fridge next to my grocery list and the Stanley Cup countdown.”
That made me smile. The tension in my shoulders eased a little.
“Thank you,” I said.
He shrugged, like it was no big deal. Like it didn’t mean the absolute world to me.
“Anytime.”
And then he nodded toward the parking lot. “You need a ride?”
“No, I’m good. Got my car today.”
He gave me one last look—half a smile, half something else I couldn’t quite name, and headed out the door.
I watched him go, heart heavier than I expected.
Later, when I got home, I dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed onto the couch. My apartment felt quieter than usual. I pulled out my phone and opened my texts with Dakota.
Mallory
So… I asked Jaymie to go with me to the doctor next week.
The dots appeared almost immediately.
Dakota
OMG what did he say????
He said yes. Told me to send a calendar invite.
That’s boyfriend energy and you can’t convince me otherwise.
He’s just being a good friend
A good friend who shows up with pastries, walks you home, and is willing to listen to your fetal heartbeat with a bunch of strangers?
...shut up.
I c ouldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of me.
Dakota followed up with a barrage of emojis and a final message:
Don’t forget to write it all down in your journal, Mama Bear. I love you!
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling as I grabbed the little notebook she sent me from Vermont.
“Week 6,” I wrote at the top. “Asked Jaymie to go with me. He said yes.”
And under it, in smaller letters: “Why does this feel so big?”
***
A week later, it was Jaymie and I with two other couples seated in the cold OB office.
The walls were painted a sterile white, and the scent of antiseptic lingered in the air.
The chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, each occupied by expectant parents, their hands intertwined, eyes filled with anticipation.
Jaymie sat beside me, his presence grounding, his fingers lightly tapping against his knee in a rhythm that matched my heartbeat.
The receptionist called my name, her voice slicing through the quiet murmur of the waiting room. I stood, my legs slightly unsteady, and Jaymie rose with me, offering a reassuring smile.
The sonographer, a woman with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor, led us into a dimly lit room.
The ultrasound machine stood sentinel beside the examination table, its screen glowing softly.
I reclined, lifting my shirt to expose my abdomen, the cool air causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.
The sonographer applied a generous amount of gel, its chill making me flinch slightly.
As she moved the transducer across my belly, the room filled with the rhythmic thump of the baby's heartbeat. The screen displayed a grainy image, but to me, it was the most beautiful sight. Tiny limbs moved, a flutter of life that made my breath catch.
"Everything looks great so far," the sonographer said, her voice warm. "The baby is developing well."
She glanced at Jaymie, her eyes twinkling. "Dad, would you like a picture?"
Jaymie's eyes widened, and he chuckled. "Oh, I'm not the father. Just a friend."
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks. "Yeah, it's a bit complicated. The baby's father... he bailed. Jaymie's been really supportive, as a friend." she sounded like an idiot.
The sonographer nodded, her expression understanding. "It's wonderful that you have such support." She handed me a printout of the ultrasound, the baby's profile captured mid-motion.
After the appointment, we stepped into the bright sunlight, the warmth a stark contrast to the coolness of the clinic . Jaymie opened the car door for me, and we drove back to the apartment in comfortable silence.
"I've got a late afternoon workout with the guys," he said as he pulled into the parking lot. "You gonna be okay?"
I smiled, placing a hand on his arm. "I'll be fine. Thanks for coming with me."
Back in the apartment, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it for a breath, silence settling like dust in the absence of Jaymie’s easy presence.
The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound, but my body still hummed from the memory of him—his broad shoulders wrapped in that worn hoodie, the way he always smelled faintly of cedar and clean sweat, the way he smiled like he was in on some secret only I could share.
The images wouldn’t leave me alone. His fingers, long and capable, wrapped around the steering wheel on the drive home. The subtle flex of his forearms when he reached for the gear shift. His laugh—low and rough and curling low in my stomach.
I bit my lip, my thighs clenching involuntarily. Pregnancy hormones were no joke. Everything inside me felt heightened—more raw, more needy.
I padded barefoot to the bedroom, the afternoon light slanting in through the blinds in hazy stripes.
My hand hesitated only for a second before I tugged open the drawer in my nightstand.
Nestled between a half-used bottle of lotion and a forgotten tube of lip balm was the pink vibrator.
I hadn’t used it in weeks, maybe months. But right now? I needed it like air.
With it hidden in my hand, I crossed the hall into the bathroom.
The tiles were cool beneath my feet, grounding me as I flipped on the water and watched steam curl up from the faucet.
I undressed slowly, letting each piece of clothing fall to the floor like an invitation.
My body had changed—softened in some places, swollen in others—but I didn’t shy away from the mirror. Not today.
Stepping into the shower, I sighed as the hot water hit my skin, cascading down in heavy streams that instantly relaxed the tension coiled in my shoulders.
My body welcomed the heat, everything turning slick and hypersensitive beneath it.
I rolled my neck, letting the spray work through my hair and trail in rivulets down my breasts, over the gentle swell of my belly, and lower—making me ache with a need I didn’t have the patience to ignore.
My fingers curled tighter around the vibrator, still dry, still untouched—but not for long.
Jaymie’s image pressed into my mind without invitation.
The way he peeled off his sweatshirt after a workout, muscles rippling beneath golden skin that glistened with sweat.
The low roll of his voice when he caught me staring—half amused, half daring.
And that smile... cocky, devastating, enough to make me forget how to breathe.
I l eaned back against the cool tile, legs spread slightly for balance as I clicked the vibrator on, the buzz low and hungry. I teased it along my inner thigh first, then higher—hovering for one torturous moment before pressing it to my clit.
My knees buckled slightly. A sharp moan escaped me, echoing in the small space.
The pressure built quickly. Everything inside me coiled tight as I let the fantasy consume me.
Jaymie's mouth hot against my skin, teeth grazing my neck. His voice in my ear—dirty, coaxing, commanding. You want it like this, baby? Say it. Let me hear you.
I whimpered, angling the toy harder, faster. My free hand squeezed one breast, fingers pinching a nipple as I imagined his tongue there instead—his hand gripping my thigh, spreading me wider, dragging me to the edge of ruin.
I pictured him behind me, pushing me into the shower wall, his cock thick and pulsing, sliding inside with one deep, relentless thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin, the low groan he’d make as he fucked me through it—slow at first, then faster, rougher, until I was nothing but sensation.
“Jaymie,” I gasped, breathless, desperate, the word breaking free like a plea.
The orgasm hit hard—my body locking, shuddering. Heat spiraled out from my core in waves, my moans muffled by the hiss of the water and the wet slap of my palm agains t the tile. I stayed like that for a moment, trembling, my heart pounding out a rhythm that matched the pulsing between my legs.
When I finally turned off the water, the silence was deafening, broken only by the soft thump of the vibrator as I set it on the ledge. I stood there a moment longer, catching my breath, water dripping from every inch of me.
Even satisfied, my body still craved something I couldn’t get from silicone and steam. It craved him. But we could never get past the point of friends, there was too much on the line. It was hard to remember where these hormones flow through me like crazy.
Content. Sated. And still—aching for him in ways that had nothing to do with loneliness.