Chapter 5
ALLY
Iemailed my latest report off and rolled my shoulders, my body stiff from sitting in my chair way too long. Being able to work from home was a blessing, but sometimes, with no coworkers to physically chat with, I got lost in a project and forgot to stand up and move around.
My phone pinged, and I swiped it on, smiling when I saw Dom’s name. We’d spent the last week texting back and forth. Our conversations were still very surface level, but it was nice. We were nowhere near figuring out the logistics of co-parenting, but we most likely had months to formulate a plan. I assumed that, because I was giving birth in the middle of hockey season, he wouldn’t be around much during her first few months anyway, but since I hadn’t expected him to be around at all, I wasn’t disappointed.
Again, not that we’d talked about any of that. It was just a logical assumption.
I needed to stop getting ahead of myself, but I loved a good, thought-out plan. Not to mention, I was nesting bad, like so bad, that I had multiple Pinterest boards about how to perfectly reorganize for baby and a few different storage options in my Amazon cart.
My phone pinged again.
Dom: What’s for lunch today?
Dom: How are you feeling?
I couldn’t help smiling. Yeah, he’d been a total dick when I told him I was pregnant, but he could not have been more attentive since. Sometimes, I wondered if it was completely genuine or more what he thought I wanted to hear, but he kept asking, so I was going to keep hoping for the best in him.
As a co-parent.
Who was stupidly gorgeous.
Dammit. Hormones were not doing me any favors, but I wasn’t freaking blind. And maybe I’d watched clips of his last preseason game online, and the camera had caught him lifting his jersey to wipe some sweat away from his face after the game. Why the hell didn’t that man wear a shirt or something under his shoulder pads?
“Ugh.” My chest felt prickly. Probably heartburn.
Okay. I couldn’t completely blame them. It’s not like the man hadn’t been insanely hot before I got pregnant—hence the getting pregnant.
I’d lusted after the man for years. And I was tired and pregnant and frustrated.
Little diva started hiccupping again, and my lusty thoughts faded—a little—as I pressed my hand to my belly. I was now twenty-eight weeks pregnant, and I could not wait to meet her, which is why I needed to get all my ducks in a row. Unfortunately, I didn’t have ducks. They’d been pushed out of the way by a bunch of drunk squirrels who had no sense of direction.
I laughed at my ridiculous thoughts and focused on my phone again.
Oh, right. Lunch. I was hungry. And apparently easily distracted by thoughts of Dom.
I shook my head and tapped on his name.
Ally: I’m good. How’s your shoulder?
Dom: It’s fine. Wait. Did you watch the game yesterday?
I groaned.
Ally: Uh, yeah. Maybe a bit. It was on my Facebook feed.
That didn’t even make sense. I was in San Francisco, and he was in Denver. Unless he was on some highlight reel or I was following the Stampede page, I shouldn’t see him on my feed.
Ugh.
Dom: Shoulder’s fine. The hit wasn’t that bad. I like that you’re watching the games. Telling Baby Girl how awesome her dad is, right?
Ally: I didn’t watch the game. Just some video popped up in my feed.
Dom: Uh-huh. Sure. Just make sure you tell her that her daddy is the best hockey player ever.
Why did he have to be adorable on top of everything else? My sensibilities were already struggling.
Ally: So. Lunch. Yeah. I should go figure that out.
Ally: Oh, and all her uncles on the Strikers might have something to say about who the best player is.
Dom: Please. They know it’s me.
Dom: I’m glad our away game against the Strikers is early this season, so I can see you.
Shut up, stupid heart.
Ally: Oh. When is it?
Like I didn’t know.
October tenth. It was already on my calendar because I went to as many of Ethan’s games as I could. I’m a good sister like that.
Dom: On the 10th. We’re staying in town overnight because we’re playing against Anaheim the following night. Maybe we could get dinner or something?
Ally: Um. Yeah. Maybe.
Dom: What’s going on?
Ally: Nothing. I’m just hungry and nesting. Baby brain is real.
Dom: I was reading about that.
Ally: You were?
Dom: Of course. I know I’m late to the game, but I want to be ready, so I grabbed a few books.
And there went my damn heartburn again.
I needed a sandwich or something to distract me.
Ally: You’re really invested.
Then he was FaceTiming me, and I wanted to smack myself. Why had I said that? And why couldn’t he have just called or kept texting?
I tapped to answer, and his gorgeous face filled the screen. I probably looked a mess.
“I look like a disaster,” I said, continuing my strain of saying things without thinking. Damn baby brain struck again.
“You look gorgeous, Ally. What’s going on?”
I shrugged. “Um. I’m hungry.”
His chuckle washed over me, and my body clenched. Freaking hell. This man.
“Ally.”
“Yes,” I practically whispered.
“I’m invested.”
“Dom,” I started, unsure of what I wanted to say, but he cut me off.
“I mean it, I’m invested, Ally. Look, I know I fucked up, but I’m going to be here for both of you in whatever capacity you let me. Just don’t forget that, okay? And I’m glad you’re watching my games.”
I rolled my eyes at the last part and ignored my rapidly beating heart for the rest of it. He was worming his way into our lives with these conversations, and I didn’t know if I fully trusted myself to believe everything that he was saying.
“It was on my feed,” I grumbled.
He flashed me that brain-stopping grin of his.
“Sure it was. Now, go make your lunch and make sure you miss watching my game tomorrow night, too.”
“You’re so annoying,” I griped, unable to stop my smile.
“I have to get to practice. Maybe we can talk tonight if you want,” he said.
How he managed to sound both cocky and nervous made no sense. It also shouldn’t be adorable. I snorted, clearly losing my mind.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just baby brain,” I said, trying to brush him off.
“Um, okay. Enjoy the rest of your day and we’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Yeah. Bye,” I said, ending the call before I said anything else that I would regret.
My phone pinged.
Dom: If you’re up for it tonight, we could FaceTime and watch The Bourne Identity.
Calm your ass, you dumb heart.
Ally: Maybe. I get tired a lot earlier these days.
Dom: I wish we could watch it together. In the same room.
I set my phone down, fearing how I would respond because part of me stupidly wanted exactly that.
He was too damn charming for my own good. I was not going to fall for him.
I shook my head. We were just finding our footing again and reading more into what was actually there was not a good idea. I couldn’t help but think about our history. The years of back-and-forth flirting, the claim that we were never going further than that. Our one night together two years ago, after which we declared one and done.
But that one and done had only lasted until last year at my brother’s wedding. Too much champagne and dancing, and we’d fallen into bed. And it’d been amazing. So much better than our first time together.
So we’d agreed to two and done.
And then last March happened.
I looked down at my belly. I would never regret any of it because I was going to have this little girl.
But now everything was messy, and I didn’t know what to think about Dom. Of course, I wanted him. Hell, he was hot and great in bed, and lusty pregnancy hormones were no joke. But wanting him wasn’t smart, especially now that I was going to give birth to his baby. It would just complicate everything.
I snorted. My brain made no sense lately.
I pushed back from my chair, walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge, clueless about what I wanted to eat. Staring at the shelves, I waited for something to jump out at me, but nothing did, so I headed back into my office. In a few short months, it would become a nursery. Ethan and a few of the guys were stopping by next week to move my office stuff out, and then Darcy and Penny were coming over the following week to paint the room a pale pinkish-purple color that I’d picked out.
So many changes were happening, and at times, it was overwhelming. Adding Dom into the mix and figuring out this co-parenting thing just put another thing on my overflowing plate. But once my office was switched to the nursery, I could check that off my list, and I would feel better.
My phone dinged in my hand.
Darcy: I grabbed an extra sandwich and cupcakes. You busy?
I smiled, grateful every day for my best friend. It’s like she knew I needed her. And food.
Ally: Great. I’m starving.
Darcy: See you in ten. See, I warned you this time instead of just showing up.
I was never asking for that key back, and she knew it.
DOM
“Fuck,” I yelled as another easy shot bounced off the pipes. One of St. Louis’s defensemen got the rebound and knocked it to one of his forwards.
And then I was spinning and chasing after the puck. We were in the middle of the second period during our third preseason game, and I was off. Fuck. I’d been off for our last two games too, but luckily, I’d potted a goal in each, and it’s not like there were any points in these games to count. I didn’t want to set up a Dom sucks precedent going into the season, but I was getting too easily distracted, and I needed to focus.
All I could think about was Ally and the progress that I thought we were making. I still had no clue what to do when the baby was actually born, but we had some time, and it was nice getting to know her even as I ignored the fact that impending fatherhood scared the ever-living shit out of me. Was I setting both of us up for disappointment in the long run by trying to be involved?
“Dom,” a voice called. I shoved aside my preoccupied thoughts and focused on the game at hand. That was my job, and I needed to be present on the ice, or I’d end up injured or, almost worse, a healthy scratch next time.
I skated closer to the forward who had snagged the puck due to my lack of attention and crowded him in the boards, my stick darting out to take that puck back. He twisted away at the last second, and my shoulder went into the Plexi. Fucking hard.
“Shit,” I barked out, catching a look from Timmy. Luckily, Tucks blocked the shot on goal, and Haldy was there to grab the rebound. I was gassed, but I followed my linemates, skating up the ice toward the St. Louis goalie.
Haldy passed me the puck, and I skated around the back of the net, looking for my angle. Not seeing an opening, I sent the puck back to Haldy. He deked left around a St. Louis defenseman and took his shot. The goal horn blared, and we were up two to one as we crashed into Haldy in a hug.
“Great play,” Xan called out.
“Nice goal, Haldy. No thanks to me,” I grumbled that last part. I knew I should be happy. Yeah, my life was in a bit of a jumble, but I was playing the game I loved, and Ally and I were working on figuring out this co-parenting thing.
But the doubts ate at me. I didn’t share them with Ally because she had enough on her plate, and I didn’t want to come off like a needy asshole or a serious dick.
As we tapped gloves with the rest of the team on the bench, I knew that dwelling on all of it during the game wasn’t helping anyone. When I finally slid onto the bench, Micah leaned around a few of the guys to give me a look. I just shook my head and turned forward, watching the third line on the ice. A few of the guys were still fighting for a final roster position, and the game started to get a bit chippy.
All the more reason to get my head out of my ass. Chippy games led to penalties and injuries, and the last thing I needed was that. I could already feel our coach, Millsy, glaring at the back of my head. He hadn’t said anything yet, but he’d probably want to talk to me at some point.
***
The game ended with a four-to-three loss, and I had zero goals or assists. I’d also been all over the place for part of the second period and only truly got my shit together in the third.
I was a damn mess. After tossing my sweat-soaked jersey into the center bin in the locker room, I made my way to my stall seat, my head down.
“Fuck, that was rough,” Micah said, sliding onto the seat next to me. “What’s up with you? Ally not talking to you?”
“Can we not do this right now?” I muttered. “And she’s talking to me fine. I just have a lot on my mind and it keeps popping up when I should be thinking about hockey only.” I gave him a pointed stare.
“Figure it out, Dom. We have three games left until the start of the season. Everyone is going through something, and I know you’re still processing shit, but fuck. We have to play,” he said.
“Everything good here?” Tally asked, taking the seat on the other side of Micah.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just not my night,” I mumbled.
“Agreed. Tonight wasn’t great for anyone, really. Not a total shitshow, but not the result we wanted. Shower and get your asses on the plane. We’ll do a late-morning skate tomorrow and video. Don’t want another repeat against St. Louis in two days,” Millsy said.
We had tomorrow night off, but St. Louis was coming to us for another preseason game.
“Dom, I want to see you after you shower,” Millsy said.
“Dun, dun, dun-dun,” Haldy said.
I glared at my linemate. “Fuck off, kid.”
Haldy’s eyes widened slightly. Guess I’d had more bite in my tone than I’d realized, but what the fuck, man?
“It’s all good. We’ve all had rough starts,” Micah said on the other side of me.
“You need to talk about anything?” Tally asked, leaning around Micah.
“Nah, I’m fine, just working through something. It’s all good. I’ll be focused next game. Hell, next practice,” I said, trying to sound calm as fuck when my head was spinning.
I could not let my personal life interfere with my game. This was my life. My job. I had to figure this out. Now.
“Okay. Just remember, I’m here to talk any time,” Tally said.
“Thanks, man,” I replied. Then I headed to the showers, needing to clear my brain before walking into Coach’s office.
***
Once dressed, I knocked on Coach’s door and poked my head in. It felt like going to the principal’s office, and it fucking sucked.
Millsy glanced up at me, setting aside whatever stat report he was reading. It was full of numbers. Ally would love it.
Dammit.
Not the time.
“Want to tell me what the hell is up with you?” Millsy never was one to beat around the bush. It was one of the things I liked about him. He was fair, but sugarcoating wasn’t his thing. I’d been happy to hear that he was going to be coaching the Stampede. We were teammates my first year on the Strikers and he’d been a strong veteran player I’d looked up to.
I slid into the seat in front of his desk.
“I’m working on it,” I said.
“What exactly are you working on? We need your head in the game, Dom. You’ve been off since training camp started. Not enough for me to scratch you, but you have to figure your shit out. If you need to talk to me, I’m here, but your attention has to be on the ice. That last pass was sloppy as hell, and fucking Debrier beat you to the puck. He’s one of St. Louis’s slowest guys. We can’t keep letting this slide.”
I sucked in a big sigh. “I just have some personal shit going on.”
“Can you fill me in? You’ve always been a partier. Is it something you need rehab for? Not that you’ve ever been drunk on the ice, but I know it happens.”
“What? Yeah. No. Nothing like that. Family stuff.” I fucking hated sounding flustered.
“Something you need time off for? It’s shit timing, but we can figure something out,” he offered.
“No, just a personal issue that I’m working through. Came on as a shock right before camp started. I know I need to get my head out of my ass and focus on hockey, Coach. Can you give me a bit longer to figure it out? I’ll be ready by the season opener.” I hoped I sounded as confident as I very much wasn’t.