Line Change (Orlando Storm #5)

Sebastian

Chapter one

I’m walking down the hallway where the Storm’s marketing and public relations offices are after a meeting with the social media team about content they want me to be part of.

I’d much rather they chose another guy to be in their videos, because I always feel silly being part of their skits or answering whatever question they come up with.

It’s always something random like, “Would you rather fight a hundred duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?” Neither.

I’d want to fight neither. But I can’t say that.

Then there’s the comments on the videos—people discussing my looks, my British accent, if I’m single or taken, just all the things. I hate it.

If I’m going to be talked about online, I’d rather it be for my hockey playing skills or how much I contribute to the team. But I grin and do as I’m asked, which includes taking part in these skits next week.

I’m hoping doing them means I’ll be excused from future social media content, at least for the rest of the season.

I stifle a yawn. It’s been a long day filled with morning practice, video review with the rest of the defensemen, team meetings, and then this meeting.

I’m ready to get home, eat dinner, and probably pass out in bed.

And people think being a professional athlete is glamorous.

It’s not. Well, maybe for the younger guys, but since turning thirty, two years ago, I’ve found that each season it becomes harder and harder to recover from games, hits, and injuries.

I take all the downtime and rest I can get.

Especially since it’s January and we’re halfway through the season.

As I’m about to turn the corner by the elevators, I hear the unmistakable sound of someone crying. I pause, trying to figure out where it’s coming from because it’s after five, and pretty much everyone is gone already since we don’t have a game tonight.

That’s when I notice the light is on in the PR and marketing director’s office.

Long strides carry me to the entrance of her office, to the woman I’ve pined over basically since I joined the team and met her at the beginning of last season.

My eyes widen at the sight of her hunched over her desk, shoulders shaking.

“Sutton, love. What’s wrong?” My legs eat up the distance until I’m standing next to her desk. When she doesn’t respond, I kneel down. “Love, you’re going to have to talk to me so I can help you.”

She lifts her head, green eyes rimmed with red. “Go away. Please.” The last word comes out in a whisper.

“No can do. You’re upset.” I’m not saying this because she’s the woman I have feelings for, but because I cannot, in good conscience, leave without finding out what’s going on, without trying to help.

“Please,” she repeats, swiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

“No.” I pull the guest chair around the desk and take a seat next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m homeless.” She begins crying again, and my heart cracks.

It takes everything in me not to gather her into my arms. But I can’t. We’re not together. She’s turned me down many times, much to my chagrin. Instead, I clench my fists at my side, hoping that maybe I misunderstood her.

“Come again, love.”

“I don’t have a home. The condo above me, their bathroom flooded last night.

It was a mess. I was getting ready for bed, and all of a sudden there was this loud bang.

The ceiling above my tub was gushing water.

Thankfully, they were able to shut the water off, but the ceiling is ruined in my bathroom.

My shower isn’t usable,” she rambles out between sobs.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” She hiccups a sob. “My landlord came out this morning to take a look at it and put in a claim with his insurance. Even I could tell it won’t be a quick fix.

He thinks they’ll need to gut the bathroom to dry it out first. But nothing can be done until upstairs fixes whatever is leaking.

And of course wait for the insurance company to do their thing.

So here I am. Homeless. What a great fucking way to start the new year.

” She shakes her head, pushing the strands of light brown hair that have come free of her bun out of her face.

“Can you stay with Ansley?” I know she and Ansley, the team’s rink side reporter, are good friends.

She blows out a breath. “Ans lives in a studio apartment, so she’s out. I can’t exactly ask Becca or Hadley either. I’m not going to encroach on either of them. They barely get to see their partners with y’all’s schedule. I’m not going to make it worse.”

Becca, our team’s physical therapist, is dating and lives with our goalie Holt, one of my friends, and his almost year-and-a-half-old daughter, Hazel. And Hadley is engaged to my usual defense partner, Wes.

So the safe options, a.k.a. the women she’s friends with who work for or are associated with the team, are out.

“You can stay with me.” The words are out before I can stop them, not that I want to.

I’ve got plenty of room in my three-bedroom condo.

I’ll have to do something about not having an actual guest bed, but she can sleep in my bed tonight.

I’ll take the couch or the floor. Hell, I don’t care.

I’ll buy a bedroom set for my guest room in the morning.

I’ve been meaning to, now I have a reason.

She lifts her head up. “I can’t do that. We’re talking months, not a few days or a couple of weeks.”

“It’s fine. I’m gone a lot anyway. You’ll have the place to yourself.”

“It’s too much.”

It’s not enough.

“If it’ll make you feel better, how about just for tonight?” Although I vow to try to convince her to stay longer, for however long she needs to. “I’ll help you figure out a more permanent solution tomorrow.” Or you could stay with me.

“I’ll get a hotel for a few nights. My landlord said he was going to try to find me a temporary place. I’m sure my renter’s insurance will reimburse me for a hotel. If not, it’ll be fine. I have savings.”

“Stay with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out.

My mouth falls open.

Bollocks.

Bloody hell.

Guess I’ve lost my chance with her. She’s with someone else now. She’s having another man’s child. But why isn’t he here with her? Where is he? Before I can ask the question, she laughs, a manic sound, and my chest tightens.

“I know, right. This week couldn’t get any worse. The doctor’s office called earlier with the results of my blood test, confirming what the home pregnancy tests I took earlier this week said—that I am indeed pregnant. Around eight weeks.” She cringes. “Then my apartment floods.”

“And the father?” I tip my chin toward her stomach.

She hangs her head. “It was a one-night stand. I don’t do one-night stands.

The one time I wanted to have a little fun, blow off some steam, and have an orgasm given to me by someone else, which he couldn’t deliver by the way.

” Fucker got her pregnant and couldn’t even satisfy her?

If she was mine, she’d have all the orgasms she wanted.

But she’s not mine. “No orgasms, but I got pregnant.” She sighs.

“All I know is his first name, and he was in town for his brother’s wedding. ”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Sutton.”

She waves me away. “It’s fine. I’m dealing with it.”

I raise an eyebrow.

She drops a hand to her stomach. “That sounded like I’m getting an abortion.

I thought about it right after I took the first pregnancy test. I did.

But I quickly realized it wasn’t the option for me.

I thought about adoption too, and that didn’t feel right either.

The minute the test showed those two pink lines, something inside me changed, and I love this little bean.

So single mom life it is.” She barks out a laugh.

“There goes my chances of finding my Mr. Right. Because when will I have time to date?”

I want to yell You don’t have to date anyone but me. I’ll take care of you and your baby. But I don’t say that. I can’t. Not appropriate right now. Right now, I need to be there for her as a friend.

I shove all my feelings aside. She doesn’t need that from me now.

Besides, she told me last season she wasn’t interested in dating me, and although it broke my heart to hear her say no, I respect her so I stopped asking her out.

Doesn’t mean my crush magically went away, because it didn’t.

A small part of me is hoping that maybe she’ll change her mind.

And even if she doesn’t, I’m not going to stop showing up for her, stop showing her I care about her even if we can only be friends.

“Well, even more reason for you to come home with me.”

“I can’t do that to you, Sebastian.”

“You’re not doing anything to me. I’m offering. In fact, I’m insisting.”

“Okay. Thank you,” she whispers. “But how do you feel about cats?”

“They’re fine. I guess.” I shrug. “We always had a few wandering around the farm when I was growing up. They keep the rodents away.”

She points to the corner of her office. “Well, I have two, and they’re indoor cats.

” That’s when I notice the pet carrier sitting in the corner next to a bag of who knows what.

“Now I’m going to be the crazy cat lady single mom.

Great. Wonderful.” Her shoulders slump, and she buries her face in her hands.

My heart cracks even more because, bloody hell, the way she says those words wrecks me. My desire to take care of her—them—is growing by the second.

Because they are mine.

And I fucking protect and take care of what’s mine. But now is not the time for me to voice those crazy caveman thoughts, because we are friends. I shouldn’t be having those thoughts about my friend.

“Hey, now. Don’t talk about yourself that way.” I reach over and rub her arm. “How about we get you and your cats to my place and get you fed. I bet the baby is hungry.” My gaze drifts down to her stomach, and I swallow down the emotions.

She nods, getting up and going over to the closet. She pulls out a suitcase before grabbing the cat carrier and her laptop bag and purse.

“Woah. Let me take something.” I rush over to her and relieve her of the suitcase and laptop bag, leaving her to handle the cats and her purse. “Ready?” I ask, moving toward the door.

“Yeah.” She follows me silently out of her office and to the elevators.

“How about you drive with me? Your car will be safe here for tonight. I’ll let the guard shack know what’s going on,” I say as we step inside the elevator.

She huffs out a breath. “I’m such a mess. How am I going to figure all of this out? I’m going to be a mom to a tiny human being who is going to need me, going to rely on me—”

“You don’t have to do it all yourself. You’ve got me, and I know the ladies will be there for you too, which means you’ll also have the guys.”

She fiddles with the ring on her thumb. “I know. I …” She stares at the ground. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” The doors slide open, and I beckon her through them before grabbing her things and following her out.

I lead us to my truck and help her inside. True to my word, I stop at the guard shack and let security know we’re leaving her car in the lot.

I glance over at her a couple of times during the drive to my place and frown at the sight of her curled up against the glass.

I hate seeing her upset. I wish I knew what to do to make things better for her.

For right now, I’ll do the only things I can—take her to my condo so she has a safe place to sleep and feed her.

I silently vow not to let her go through her pregnancy alone, nor will I let her be homeless. I have to figure out how to convince her to let me help for more than tonight, let me be her support.