Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LUKAS
The second Kate’s hand tightens around Hudson’s shoulder, I know she’s about to leave. It’s not a dramatic or angry move, and that makes it worse.
She looks overwhelmed in this quiet, controlled way that makes my chest ache, because I can see how hard she’s trying to stay calm in front of Hudson. All I want to do is reach out and hold her, to make all of this go away, but I can’t.
The atmosphere outside the rink suddenly feels too sharp.
Every sound around us feels distant and distorted beneath the pounding of blood in my ears.
Fans still drift through the car park behind us, laughing and talking after the game, completely unaware that my entire life may have just detonated at the players’ entrance.
Kate looks at me carefully, her expression guarded now. “I think we should go.”
Panic flares instantly in my chest. “Kate—”
“It’s okay,” she says quickly, and that hurts more than if she’d shouted. “You clearly need to deal with this.”
I glance toward Hudson automatically. He’s trying hard to look unaffected, but I can see the tension in the way he holds himself beside her. Too observant. Too old for fourteen in moments like this.
“You do not have to leave,” I tell her, stepping closer instinctively. “I have nothing to hide from you.” And God, I mean that. Because whatever this is, I did not know.
Kate’s gaze flicks across my face, searching it as though she’s deciding whether to trust what she sees. “I know,” she says quietly. Her belief in me nearly my undoing.
Even now.
But her gaze flicks briefly towards Félix, standing beside Camille, and I watch the concern flicker behind her eyes before she smooths it away again. It’s not jealousy; I can see that clearly. It’s more like fear. Fear of what this is, of how it affects us, and of what it means for Hudson and her.
“I think Hudson and I should give you some space tonight,” she says gently.
Hudson shifts awkwardly beside her, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets as he watches me cautiously. His protectiveness is obvious now. He’s ready, prepared to step between his mother and anything that might harm her.
That makes me respect him even more, despite the disaster unfolding around us.
“I’ll call you later,” I say immediately, because the thought of her driving away believing this changes how I feel about her makes my chest tighten painfully.
I lean in and kiss her lips gently. I want her to know she’s still mine.
With my hand cupping her cheek, I look into her eyes and say again, “I’ll call. ”
Kate nods once, though uncertainty still shadows her expression. “Okay.”
She then turns, guiding Hudson gently towards the car before either of them lingers long enough for this to grow any harder.
Hudson pauses just before opening the passenger door.
His eyes meet mine for a moment. There’s confusion there.
Worry. A hundred questions he’s too loyal to his mother to ask out loud.
I want to tell him this is not what it looks like. Except I don’t even know what this looks like yet. He climbs into the car without speaking.
Kate hesitates before getting in herself, but not before looking back at me one final time across the car park.
The expression on her face stays with me long after the headlights disappear into the night.
Then silence settles heavily around us.
Camille stands a few feet away, holding Félix’s hand as the little boy yawns sleepily, completely oblivious that he may have just detonated someone else’s life. Or maybe mine. I slowly drag a hand through my hair, exhaustion hitting now that Kate is gone.
“What are you doing here?” I ask again, quieter this time.
Camille exhales slowly. “I got offered a gallery residency in Manchester. Six months.”
Six months. Jesus Christ.
“And you thought arriving outside my rink with a child was the best way to tell me?”
Guilt flashes across her face at once. “No. I tried calling you three times this week.”
I frown because maybe she’s right. I vaguely remember ignoring an unknown Canadian number between training sessions.
Tabarnak.
“I didn’t know how else to do this,” she admits quietly.
Félix leans against her leg sleepily, his tiny mittened hand still wrapped around hers. My eyes keep drifting back to him against my own will. Every time they do, something twists uncomfortably in my chest.
Camille notices. Of course, she does. “He’s tired,” she says tenderly. “And honestly, I think we both are.”
I nod because right now I feel like I’ve played three games back-to-back without stopping.
“We should talk properly,” she continues carefully. “Tomorrow, maybe. When things are calmer.”
Calmer. The word feels almost laughable right now.
But she’s right. Standing in a freezing car park outside the arena while my brain short-circuits is not going to solve anything tonight.
I glance toward Félix again. His eyes are half closed, head drooping sleepily against Camille’s side.
A sudden protective stirs low in my chest before I can stop it.
That terrifies me.
“Text me your address. I’ll come tomorrow,” I say finally. “We can talk properly then.”
Relief flickers across Camille’s face. “Okay.”
She hesitates before adding, “I never wanted to hurt you, Lukas.”
I almost laugh at that, not because it’s funny, but because it’s already too late for that. If she didn’t want to hurt me, she wouldn’t have turned up at the rink after a game with a child who is more than likely mine.
Instead, I nod and step back, unsure what else to say when my entire world feels unstable beneath my feet.
Félix looks up at me one final time before Camille guides him gently toward the waiting taxi nearby.
I stand there long after they disappear into it. Alone in the cold car park. Completely fucking lost.
I don’t remember driving home, only fragments of the journey. Red traffic lights bleeding across the windscreen. My hands clamped too tightly to the steering wheel. Kate’s face replaying in my head.
By the time I reach my flat, my body feels heavy with exhaustion, but my mind refuses to slow down.
The silence inside the apartment hits immediately.
Usually, I enjoy it after games. The quiet after the noise of the rink gives me the chance to breathe. Tonight, it feels unbearable.
I throw my keys onto the kitchen counter harder than intended and stand there staring blankly into the dark flat while everything catches up with me all at once.
Kate.
Hudson.
Camille.
Félix.
Possibly my child. The thought still doesn’t feel real enough for my brain to fully process.
Every time I get close to accepting it, I see those blue eyes again, and something inside me lurches violently.
I scrub both hands over my face and exhale hard.
Opening the fridge, I pull out a beer and crack it open, downing most of it in one go.
Tabarnak.
My phone feels heavy in my pocket. I want to message Kate. I need to, but what exactly am I supposed to say right now?
Hey, surprise, possible son?
The thought makes me feel physically ill.
I move restlessly through the flat instead, shedding layers mechanically before grabbing another beer from the fridge, mostly because I need something to occupy my hands.
It stays untouched beside me for almost an hour.
My mind keeps circling back to the same thing. Kate looked scared. Not angry or jealous or dramatic, she looked terrified. And that hurts because I know exactly why.
Hudson and the life they’ve built together. The stability she protects so fiercely. And now, suddenly, I’m standing in the middle of it with chaos attached to me. Chaos she didn’t sign up for.
I sink heavily onto the sofa and stare out into the dark city beyond the windows, exhaustion pressing hard behind my eyes. The worst part is the conflict twisting in my chest. Every instinct I have tells me that if Félix is mine, I show up for him without hesitation.
No disappearing.
I know what it means to have parents who love you fiercely and consistently. I know what stability looks like, and I know what happens to children when adults fail them. The thought of not being there for him already feels wrong, in a way I cannot explain.
But then immediately after those thoughts comes Kate. Her laugh. Hudson is relaxing around me, little by little. The way tonight felt before everything exploded.
I only just got them. Only just started building something real. And now I have absolutely no idea whether this will destroy it before it even truly begins.
Sometime after two in the morning, I finally pick up my phone.
My thumb hovers over Kate’s contact for a long moment before I type slowly.
Lukas: I am so sorry tonight happened like that.
I stare at the message and then delete it because it feels too formal and a little distant. I try again.
Lukas: I did not know.
That one stays because it’s the truth.
I hit send before I can overthink it and lean back against the sofa heavily, staring at the ceiling while my entire future suddenly feels terrifyingly uncertain.