Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
CHRISTOPHER
“ T his is a bad look Chris. Bad look.” The president of the university, Josh Perkins, clicks his tongue in my ear, as I wash the dishes from breakfast.
He’d been calling since nine in the morning but it's a Saturday and school is on winter break so I ignored him until Josie gasped, horrified that I ignored him and demanded I call him back immediately while she took a shower without me. Fuck. She is soaking wet, and humming while she scrubs her perfect body while I’m on the phone with a man old enough to have birthed Christ.
“You’re lucky Dylan Collins agreed to a deal.” The old man drawls, as I scrub the eggs off of a frying plan.
“Oh yeah,” I comment, boredom clear in my tone, but the man yawns, leaning back with a sigh. “What deal?”
“He agreed not to press charges and sign a NDA if he is allowed to audition for the Olympic scouts with Josie Richards.” My skin runs cold as President Perkins continues to speak. “ Now, I had to pull a few strings but- ”
“No.” I growl, dropping the pan into the soapy water.
“No? Chris there is no, no. I already-”
“No, he cannot skate with Josie Richards.” I bark.
“They are partners. ” He says enunciating every word as he speaks, before sighing into the phone. “I was meaning to ask you about Miss Richards. Now there are rumors that frantically I put no weight into, but-”
“They’re true.” I say, welcoming the deafening silence that crowds the line.
“Excuse me?”
“The rumors are true, but we are not violating any rules. I am not Josie’s teacher.” I respond calmly. The same way I practiced with Caleb when I decided she would be mine.
“You are her coach.” He scoffs, before adding. “And fifteen years her senior.”
My body rolls with annoyance but I stuff it down. “In no official capacity am I Josie Richards coach, and my age gap with my girlfriend is none of your business.”
President Perkins’s sigh comes through the phone, heavy with frustration. “This behavior is unacceptable, Chris. It’s going to reflect badly on the university, and on you as a public figure. You understand that, right?”
I grip the edge of the sink, my knuckles turning white. “I understand perfectly,” I reply, my voice cold and clipped.
“There will be a Title IX investigation,” Perkins continues. “You’ll have a meeting with the committee as soon as they reconvene, but until then, you are no longer allowed on campus. ”
I clench my jaw, anger simmering under the surface. “Fine,” I grind out. “But you will find another deal with Dylan Collins. He is not allowed within a hundred feet of Josie. I want an official Title IX restraining order on him, immediately.”
Perkins hesitates, sputtering. “Chris, be reasonable. You can’t just demand?—”
But before he can finish, I hang up. My nostrils flare as I inhale and the tension stays as I exhale heavily, trying to calm the storm inside me. Dylan will have to kill me to get anywhere near Josie. It won’t be long before the press knows. I can read it now, Golden Boy Robs Cradle, and I know I should care. I know I should be horrified by the blow back, but I can’t bring myself to care. I don’t care because I am happy. For the first fucking time I am just happy. I scrub a hand down my face, the soapy water from the sink splashing onto the floor.
“Uncle Chris!” Abby sings as she enters the kitchen and I quickly turn around, schooling my features to look relaxed.
“Abby,” I sing back to her in the same song-like pitch. She is wearing a full snow outfit, complete with boots, fur and earmuffs.
Abby pauses looking at me with a faux irritated expression. “Uncle Chris, why aren’t you dressed yet?”
“Dressed for what?” I shrug, pointing at her snowsuit. “Where are you going?”
“ We,” Josie says entering the kitchen in a bodycon, baby pink snowsuit. “Are going to cut down a Christmas tree!”
I can’t help but grin at the sight of Josie in that ridiculous, yet somehow undeniably adorable, baby pink snowsuit. It hugs her curves in a way that makes my hands itch to throw her over my shoulder and take her to our bedroom.
“Cut down a Christmas tree?” I repeat, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Is that why my kitchen is suddenly full of snow bunnies?”
Josie sticks her tongue out at me, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t try to act like a grinch, Chris,” she teases. “We’re determined to get the perfect tree, and you’re coming with us.”
Abby nods, her hands on her hips. “Yes, Uncle Chris, we need your muscles. How else are we supposed to carry the tree?”
I fake a groan, pressing a hand to my chest. “My muscles, huh? Are you two taking advantage of my superior strength?”
Josie snickers, stepping closer and nudging me with her elbow. “Absolutely. But don’t worry, we’ll reward you with hot cocoa and cookies afterward. Maybe even let you put the star on top.”
I shake my head, warmth flooding through me at the sight of both of them grinning up at me. “Fine,” I say, surrendering. “But only because I don’t trust either of you to pick out a tree that doesn’t look like a sad twig from a cartoon.”
Josie laughs and Abby’s face lights up. “Hurry up, then!” Abby squeals, running towards the door. “The perfect tree waits for no one!”
The three of us trudged through the snowy field, the sound of laughter overshadowing the crunch of our boots through the snow as Abby says no to every tree I point out. Abby skips ahead of us, as Josie and I follow close behind, her gloved hand tucked into mine. Her cheeks are flush with the cold, and her breath mists between her lips, and despite the nervous way she bites the corner of her lip, her eyes sparkle as she shoots little glances at me, as if we were children in class knowing we both have a crush on each other.
“This one!” Abby calls out, her voice brimming with excitement. She stands beside a towering pine, her mitten-clad hands spread wide as she presents the tree to us. “It’s perfect! Big. Green. Smells like everything perfect in life. And it will look good in all our Christmas selfies!”
I chuckle and glance at Josie, who raises her eyebrows, nods in agreement and winks at me. “She has a good eye.”
“Alright, alright,” I say, kneeling down in front of the tree and positioning my saw in my hands. “Let’s get to work, then.”
Abby bounces in place next to Josie, and she cups her mouth shouting. “Get it baby, show me those muscles.”
“Watch and learn, baby,” I say, flashing a grin at Josie. Her eyes light up, and she stands a few feet back, bundled up in her coat with her cheeks flushed bright pink from the cold. Abby stands behind her, recording on her phone.
“Come on, Uncle Chris, don’t embarrass me on live!” Abby giggles.
The chainsaw roars to life under my grip, the engine’s growl cutting through the crisp, pine-scented air.
Josie shouts something over the noise, and even though I can’t make out her words, her laughter rings clear, making me feel like I could take down a forest of trees if it meant hearing that laugh again.
“Here we go,” I mutter, as I set the chainsaw to the trunk, the blade biting deep into the wood with a satisfying crunch. The vibrations pulse through my hands, and the tree shudders slightly. Sawdust sprays out, swirling in the winter sunlight like tiny golden flecks, dusting my wool coat and jeans.
Josie’s cheering gets louder. “Come on, you’ve got this!” she shouts, clapping her gloved hands together. I chuckle, stealing a quick glance over my shoulder. Her eyes are sparkling, her smile wide, and Abby bounces up and down, whispering in Josie’s ear.
The tree starts to lean, groaning under the pressure, the sound echoing through the quiet woods. “Timber!” I call out, drawing out the word dramatically. The tree lands with a soft, muffled thud against the snow-covered ground. I kill the chainsaw and wipe my brow, the smile still plastered on my face.
Abby jumps back, as she talks to the camera with a proud smile. “And that guys, gals and pals is how the NHL’s best Uncle cuts down a tree.”
Josie rushes over, her boots crunching over the snow, and throws her arms around me, giddy and beaming. “Who knew chopping down trees could be so sexy? Maybe we should make this a tradition.” She purrs.
I raise an eyebrow, letting out a low chuckle as I slide my hands around her waist, pulling her closer, so my lips are just inches from hers. “Only if you promise to cheer me on in that snowsuit every year,” I tease, giving her a once-over.
She laughs, rubbing her body against me. “This snowsuit?”
“Or nothing,” I tilt my head, nodding yes when?—
Josie suddenly gasps, her smile faltering, and her body tenses. She clutches her abdomen, her eyes widening in shock. “Oh my- agh. ”
Panic spikes through me. “Josie?” My hands fly to her shoulders, trying to steady her as she doubles over slightly. “What’s wrong?”
Her face pales, and she looks up at me, fear clouding her expression. “Chris, something’s not right,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
Then she looks down, and we both notice it—the dark, crimson stain blooming on the inside of her thigh, seeping through her snowsuit. Josie’s eyes fill with horror, her voice faltering.
“Uncle Chris?” Abby asks, her voice cracking.
“Oh god,” she whispers, panic setting in. Her hand hovers over the blood, her lips trembling. “Chris… there’s blood.”
“Abby, call 911.” I direct, my mind running blank as I zero in on Josie. “Tell them we are on our way to the nearest hospital.”
Scooping her up into my arms, I cradle her close, her body shaking against mine. Abby’s eyes are wide and wet with tears, her voice small and scared as she pointed at Josie’s side.
“Stay close, Abby. We’re heading to the car.” I break into a full sprint, trudging through the snow.
Josie buries her face in my chest, clutching my jacket. I can feel the tension in her body, the fear radiating off her, and my throat tight. “I’ve got you, Josie,” I whisper. “Just hold on. We’ll get there.”
Once we make it to the car, I slide Josie into the passenger’s seat. Sweat prickles along her forehead as she groans in and out of pain. I buckle her seat belt , running to the other side just as Abby catches up and jumps into the backseat, informing the operator that we are on our way to hospital.
“Uncle, how far away are we?” Abby asks.
I slide into the front seat, barely closing the door as I peel out of the driveway. “Ten minutes.” Josie groans, curling into a ball on the passenger seat, and I growl, calling back to Abby. “Make it five.”
The drive to the hospital is a blur of car horns, moans of pain from Josie, the babble of Abby to the operator, and the continuous sludge of the snow under the tires. I keep saying things like hold on, I love you, and please. Please what? I don’t know, but I am gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles are turning white.
When we arrive at the ER, I park haphazardly, scooping Josie in my arms and running into the hospital with a crying Abby behind me. I enter the double doors, screaming at the top of my lungs.“Help! Help!”
A small man, with thick black hair and purple scrubs comes up to us with his hand out as if he is calming a feral animal. “Sir, what’s wrong?”
A gurney slides up next to us, and I place Josie down as I speak. “I don’t know. One minute she was fine, next she was clutching her stomach, bleeding.”
“Are you the husband?” He asks, pressing his hand into her side, causing an ear splitting howl that makes me growl at the doctor.
“Stop.”
“I have to evaluate what’s wrong.” The doctor narrows his eyes on me. “Are you the husband? ”
“Yes.” I snap, and the doctor nods in the direction of the double doors.
“Uncle Chris?” Abby sniffles, the fear clear on her eyes.
“Call Uncle Caleb, he will take you home.”
“Uncle-” She begins to protest, but the look in my eyes shuts her up.
“Call him, now.” I growl, as the doctor begins to rush. Josie to the back.
Josie white-knuckle grips the forearm of the doctor, her eyes wide and lips fading to blue. “T-the baby. Please check for the-”
Josie screams, cutting off the rest of her words, and I have to jog to keep up with them, but, no matter what any of the nurses say around me, my brain homes in on the words that just left Josie’s lips. Baby. Check the baby. Fear so deep it makes my skin cold, and joy so high I feel like I am floating.
My heart pounds relentlessly in my chest, echoing Josie’s pained cries and Abby’s sobs in my ears. I can’t think, I can barely breathe .
The nurses and doctors bark orders at one another, their voices blending into a frantic chorus, but Josie’s wide, terrified eyes are locked onto mine as they put an IV into her left arm.
“Chris,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I-I-”
“I’m right here,” I whisper, forcing my voice to stay steady, even as fear threatens to swallow me whole. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The medical team rushes Josie into an examination room, and I’m pushed back just as a doctor approaches. “We need to run an ultrasound to see what’s going on,” he says.
Josie gasps, her hands clutching her abdomen, and the doctor gently moves the probe over her flat belly. The room falls into a thick, suffocating silence, broken only by Josie’s uneven breathing and the steady thump of the heart monitor.
And then, a rhythmic, miraculous sound fills the room: the echoing, overlapping heartbeats of... more than one baby.
The doctor’s eyes widen, and he looks at us, stunned. “The babies are fine,” he says, his voice tinged with awe. “It’s common for moms having multiples to bleed and experience pain. I would say it’s probably just Uterine stretching. Triplets are a high risk pregnancy, but you are young so a little less so.”
“Multiple?” I cough out looking down at Josie’s fearful eyes.
“Triplets?” she whispers, her voice cracking. “Oh my God...what does that mean for skating?”
“You figure skate?” The doctor questions, looking closer at the ultrasound.
“Yes.”
“Early stages only, but once these babies drop it would increase the danger of miscarrying.” The doctor nods, looking at us with a thin lipped smile.
“What’s considered early stages?” I question, because if this man is saying Josie will have to give up her dreams for these babies. I don’t know what I will do, or say. I want these babies, I do, but the thought of her sacrificing her future for them… I can’t. She’d never forgive me. I’d never forgive myself.
The doctor looks at me carefully. “The first trimester—up to 12 weeks—is considered early stages. After that, the risks decrease somewhat, but if you push too hard physically, the chances of complications go up. For someone as active as Josie, you’ll need to take extra care as her body changes.”
“And can she skate in her second trimester?” I ask, my hand resting on Josie’s shoulder and squeezing when she starts to shake.
The doctor nods thoughtfully. “In general, the second trimester is the safest period for physical activity, but it depends on how Josie feels. If she’s comfortable and there are no signs of complications, light skating could be okay. However, I’d strongly recommend avoiding high-impact moves or anything that could risk a fall. It’s best to err on the side of caution. Her body will be going through a lot of changes, so she’ll need to listen to her body and take it easy.”
“And how long is recovery after birth?” I manage to ask, hoping to get a sense of how much time she might need to regain her strength. If the Olympics are fifteen months from now, and if Josie wants then the gold is still ours, babies and all.
The doctor leans back, raising an eyebrow. “Let me guess… coach and papa?”
I shrug, trying to stay calm, but the weight of everything is crashing down. The doctor gives a small smile and continues.
“The recovery time varies, especially with multiple births. Physically, it will likely take a few weeks to heal, but that depends on how things go during the delivery. Skating again will take time—possibly several months, depending on how Josie’s body handles the birth and the stress of it. Emotionally, it could take longer. The demands of motherhood, combined with recovery, will be a lot for anyone to adjust to. ”
My body buzzes because this is good news, but when I look down, tears spill down her cheeks, and she shakes her head, her entire body trembling. “Chris, three babies? Your life is over... my life is over,” she sobs. “How am I supposed to... How can I do this?”
Over? How could she ever think that it’s over? That this is not the beginning. That this, her, is not the best thing to ever fucking happen to me.
“Could you please give us a moment?” I say to the doctor, and he nods, exiting the room without another word.
I kneel beside her, taking her face in my hands, my own tears threatening to spill. “Josie,” I say firmly, my voice thick with emotion. “Look at me.”
Her eyes, wide and terrified, lock onto mine.
“My life didn’t begin until I met you. This…you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” I place my hand over her stomach, leaning in closer to her. “You are the strongest person I know.”
She shakes her head, her fear spilling out in fresh sobs. “But... my dreams, the Olympics, everything I’ve worked for?—”
“You think just because you are pregnant I will let you give up on your dreams?” I scoff, rubbing my thumb lazily along her stomach.
“People don’t win gold medals pregnant, Chris.” Josie sniffs, playing with the skin around her fingernails.
“2012, beach volleyball Kerri Walsh Jennings.”
“What?” She coughs, and I run my hand up her side .
“2004, Equestrian, Anky van Grunsven while five months pregnant.” I pinch her chin, pulling her gaze to me, as I continue. “1996, Softball, Michele Granger. These women didn’t only compete, they won. You will win.”
Her lips tremble, her hands clenching the sheets on either side of her. “But... how? How can I do that? How can I be a mom to three babies and still chase the Olympics? Chris, I’m 22.”
I move my hand to cover hers, squeezing gently. “You’re not alone. I’ll be right there with you every step of the way, holding you up, making sure you have everything you need. We’re a team, Josie, and this team is getting a gold medal.”
“I just-”
“If you want it, I will make sure you will be an Olympian. You will be a mom. I will make sure nothing stops you.” I pull her closer to my lips.
“But the doctor said-”
“The doctor said we have to watch your body, and allow recovery. Josie, do you want it? Because if you do I will get you back on that ice come the Olympics.”
Lip quivering, she looks me in the eye. “I want it.”
I kiss her, a gentle press of lips. “Then let's go get it.”