Chapter 50 Tish
TISH
My hands shake as I park outside the Thunderwolves clubhouse.
Three days. It’s been three days since I stared at that positive pregnancy test, and I still feel like I’m living in someone else’s life.
The nausea that’s been plaguing me for weeks suddenly makes perfect sense, but knowing the cause doesn’t make it any easier to handle.
I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror and wince.
Dark circles ring my eyes, and my usually vibrant complexion looks pale and drawn.
I’ve barely slept, my mind spinning with scenarios of how this conversation will go.
How do you tell three men that one of them might be the father of your child?
How do you explain that you have no idea which one?
The February air bites at my cheeks as I make my way through the facility.
My stomach churns, though I can’t tell if it’s morning sickness or pure anxiety. Probably both.
I’ve rehearsed what I’m going to say a hundred times, but every version sounds inadequate.
Carl’s office door is slightly ajar, and I can hear their voices inside, deep, familiar tones that make my heart race despite everything.
I pause, pressing my palm against my still-flat stomach. In a few months, there will be a baby.
A tiny person who deserves to know their father, who deserves stability and love.
I knock softly and push the door open.
All three of them are there, arranged around Carl’s desk like they’re preparing for battle.
Carl sits behind his desk, his silver hair catching the overhead light, those piercing blue eyes immediately finding mine.
Jake lounges in one of the chairs, but his usual easy smile is replaced with concern.
Ash stands near the window, his broad shoulders tense, brown eyes studying me with that protective intensity I know so well.
“Trisha.” Carl’s voice is warm but cautious as he rises from his chair. The way he says my full name, never the nickname, sends a familiar flutter through me that I try to ignore.
“Hey, Tish.” Jake’s voice is softer than usual, missing its typical teasing edge. “You look…”
“Tired,” I finish for him, managing a weak smile. “I know.”
Carl gestures to the large television mounted on his office wall. “The docuseries company sent over the rough cut yesterday. Thought we should all see it together before it airs next week.”
The irony isn’t lost on me.
We’re about to watch a documentary about our unconventional relationship, and I’m carrying a secret that could change everything between us.
I settle into the remaining chair, hyperaware of how close Jake is sitting, how his cologne mingles with Carl’s subtle aftershave and Ash’s clean, masculine scent.
I should tell them now, before we start the documentary, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Before we start,” Ash says, his voice taking on that protective tone that always makes my pulse quicken, “have you heard anything from Mica? Any more messages or threats?”
I shake my head, and that’s what worries me most. “Nothing. Complete silence for over a week now. It’s…unsettling.”
Carl’s jaw tightens. “Men like him don’t just give up.”
“Maybe he finally got the message,” Jake suggests, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.
“Or maybe he’s planning something bigger,” Ash mutters, running a hand through his short blonde hair.
The thought sends a chill down my spine, but I force myself to focus on the present. “Let’s just watch the documentary. We can worry about Mica later.”
Carl dims the lights and starts the video.
The opening credits roll, featuring dramatic shots of the team on ice, the Thunderwolves logo prominent against a backdrop of blue and gold.
My stomach does another flip as I see myself on screen, the woman who walked into this chaos as their PR manager and somehow became so much more.
The documentary is well-produced, I have to admit.
It follows our journey from the team’s reputation crisis through the tour, the sabotage attempts, and, yes, our relationship.
The producers have been surprisingly tasteful, focusing more on the emotional connection than the physical aspects, though there are enough heated glances and intimate moments captured to make my cheeks burn.
I steal glances at the men beside me.
Carl watches with his typical stoic expression, but I catch the slight softening around his eyes when the camera captures a tender moment between us.
Jake shifts in his seat during a scene where he’s clearly flirting with me, his usual confidence replaced with something more vulnerable.
Ash’s jaw clenches when the documentary shows him struggling with his feelings, the internal battle between seeing me as his best friend’s sister and accepting his desire for me.
“God, do I really sound that cocky?” Jake mutters during a particularly flirtatious exchange.
“Yes,” Carl and Ash say simultaneously, earning a reluctant chuckle from me.
The documentary moves through our tour, showing the various incidents of sabotage, the broken-down bus, which they used pictures from my phone since they weren’t hired yet, the missing equipment, the mysterious accidents that seemed to follow us everywhere.
Seeing it all compiled like this, it’s clear that someone was systematically trying to destroy the team.
Then we reach the Christmas Eve footage.
My breath catches as I watch myself laughing with the team, the alcohol making me bold and carefree in a way I rarely allow myself to be.
The camera captures stolen kisses, heated looks, the building tension that eventually led to that night in the cabin.
The producers have been discrete, cutting away before anything too intimate, but the implication is clear.
I feel heat creep up my neck as I remember that night, the way Carl’s hands felt on my skin, Jake’s playful whispers in my ear, Ash’s protective embrace that made me feel safer than I had in years.
“Wait.” Ash’s sharp voice cuts through my memories. He’s leaning forward, staring intently at the screen. “Go back.”
Carl pauses the video. “What is it?”
“There, in the background. Behind the cabins.” Ash points to the screen. “Rewind it about thirty seconds.”
Carl complies, and we all lean forward as the footage plays again. It’s the scene where we’re all outside the cabin, laughing in the snow.
The camera is focused on us, but in the background, barely visible among the trees, there are two dark figures.
“There,” Ash says, his voice tight. “Pause it right there.”
Carl freezes the frame, and my blood turns to ice.
Even with the grainy quality and distance, I can make out the shapes of two men standing half-hidden behind a large pine tree.
One of them is unmistakably familiar.
“That’s Mica,” I whisper, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach.
“And the other one…” Jake squints at the screen. “Isn’t that Tommy? The new equipment manager we hired in December?”
The room falls silent as the implications sink in. Mica wasn’t just sending threatening messages and gifts.
He was there, watching us, following the team.
And he had help from someone on the inside.