29. Aiden
Chapter twenty-nine
Aiden
T he phone feels like a grenade in my hand, Aurora’s text message glowing accusingly on the screen:
“Need to go to the pharmacy. We should talk when you’re back. It’s important.”
I’ve been staring at these fucking words all day, each time they hit me harder than a slapshot to the teeth. My gut churns as I try to make sense of it. A pharmacy run and important in the same text? Shit. There’s only one thing that adds up to, and it’s not a conversation I’m ready for.
Aurora’s pregnant?
The word sits in my head like a lead weight, making it hard to think about anything else. We were careful, weren’t we? But careful doesn’t mean shit when the universe decides to screw you over.
I’m still lost in thought when we hit the ice, my mind a million miles away from the game. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see that defenseman coming, why I couldn’t get the puck where it needed to be. By the time the final buzzer sounds, I know we’ve blown it. Our first loss at an away game.
“Fuck!”
My words echo through the locker room as we file in, defeat hanging heavy in the air.
I wince as the sound of wood hitting metal clangs in the space. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh glare on the walls of the locker room. The team’s quiet as we file in, each of us taking our spots.
I strip out of my pads with short, jerking motions, the muffled hum of the crowd still reverberating through the room with chants and cheers. None of that shit is for us, though, and that fucking hurts.
The last few games we’ve played at home haven’t prepared us for our first loss, and I know I’m not the only one feeling the burn acutely.
“We played a hard game out there,” Jax says. I can tell he’s really feeling this loss, but he’s doing his best to stay upbeat. I’m trying too, but it’s fucking hard. Still, Jax’s definitely showing out with some captain behavior. I know coach is watching him too. And if it wasn’t for the Durnan Rule, which says a goalie can’t be captain, I’d be sweating bullets. With sportsmanship like his, he’d steal any chance I have of ever wearing the C.
“He’s right,” I agree, backing him up, riding his tailwinds. Personally, this doesn’t come easy to me, and I don’t really feel any cheer, but this isn’t about me. This is about helping the team navigate the situation so we can come out the other side still whole and ready to continue our path.
“We all played hard out there. The other team did too. It was a well-fought game.”
“Yeah, but fuck, man,” Caleb calls out. His helmet sits beside him, and he isn’t even looking at me. I hate it. I can almost smell his defeat from feet away, and I refuse to let it cling to us too long. “That last goal—“
“That last goal sucked, but not as much as it will if we let this keep us down,” I cut in.
When I see Jax nod my way in agreement, I feel a surge of energy flow through me.
“We’ll get through this.” No one responds. The only sounds are the soft rustling of guys shifting in their seats and the occasional distant shout from the arena as the last few fans leave for places unknown.
I swallow hard when coach walks in, and for a split second, my life making it as an NHL player for the Canyon Bay Cyclones flashes through my mind. Fuck. A baby. That’s a whole different league, isn’t it? One I’m definitely not drafted for. I clench my jaw, forcing the thought away. One shit show at a time.
Coach looks over at me, silently observing the exchange. I don’t want to come off disingenuous, but I hate witnessing us go down.
In the short time since I’ve started with the team, I’ve made connections with these guys. They aren’t just teammates anymore. They’re friends—hell, family even. And I’ll do everything in my power to push us forward.
“Listen,” I start again, turning to look at them all. “We’ve had better nights, and we’ll have better nights ahead. This shit sucks. Any loss is going to, but I know this first loss is hard as fuck. We can’t let that define the rest of our season.”
Brody speaks up from where he’s slumped on the bench. I know he’s feeling particularly shitty. “I screwed up, y’all. I’m sorry.” His voice is barely audible. “I should’ve made the fucking pass. If I had, they wouldn’t have—“
“No,” Jax says. “The puck could have easily changed hands then too. Unless you personally walk over and deliver the puck to them, we take wins and losses as a team. Everyone understand?”
I see nods all around, and I know we’ll be okay.
“So, what now?” I ask, looking at each of them one at a time. “We’re a team, so let’s get some suggestions going.”
“Regroup,” Caleb mutters before looking up. “We watch the tape, figure out exactly what went wrong, and add that to our drills.”
I nod. “Absolutely. And we come back stronger than before. This is part of the game, part of the grind. We don’t let losses define us.”
When coach clears his throat, I take a step back, letting him take the lead. He smacks me on the shoulder before moving to stand in the middle of the locker room. When I look over at Jax, he has a small smile on his face, and when he nods again, I know we’re going to be okay.
“Alright, team,” coach says before clapping his hands together. “Let’s clean it up and head out. We have a long road ahead of us, but the only way we’ll get to our destination is by working together. Get some good sleep and be prepared to practice even harder when we get home.”
Cheers ring out, not of excitement, but of determination. Just because we’ve had a loss tonight doesn’t mean we won’t bounce back stronger than before.
The guys file out, but I linger, pretending to adjust my gear. In the quiet, Aurora’s text floods back into my mind. A kid. Christ. What would that even look like? Me, responsible for a tiny human? The thought makes me want to laugh and puke at the same time.
W ith a sigh, I stare down at the phone. It’s been ringing once every hour, and I know exactly who I’ll be dealing with once I answer it. I wasn’t ready to talk because I was reeling from our first loss on the road, and even now, back in the comfort of my own fucking home, I’m still not ready.
But I know all I’m doing is prolonging the inevitable. Maybe it’s better to get this shit over with now so I can move the fuck on.
Decision made, I sigh deeply and school my expression before answering the phone.
“Dad.”
“Finally decided to answer the damn phone, I see. Cowardly isn’t a good look on you.”
I try not to let that first jab get to me. “I was busy with practice.”
He snorts out a cruel-sounding laugh. “Practice? What kind of practice are you having that doesn’t even ensure a win?”
I know he’s trying to sound authoritative, but he really just sounds like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I don’t know what’s different now, but I’m having a hard time taking him seriously.
“You know, you had a chance to make a difference, and instead, you let the team down. This is becoming a habit.”
“Last time I checked, hockey is a team sport,” I remind him. “The team works together to victory.”
“Working together. All of this sounds like hippie bullshit to cover for the fact that you’re weak at the sport you claim to love.” I can tell by his tone he’s probably sneering over the line. “Your passes are weak, and you haven’t had a push since the first game. If you can’t score, why do you even bother getting on the ice? It’s pathetic.”
I’ve put up with my father’s shit for years, but something about the way he’s insistent on berating me now has me seeing red.
I’m tired of it. Something needs to change.
“No, what’s even more pathetic is you criticizing me every time something doesn’t go perfectly. I’m doing my best out there. I’m trying to make myself better, which is more than you ever did.”
“You call that trying? I saw the game. You missed crucial opportunities, and it cost your team the win. You need to step up, or you’ll never get anywhere.”
“No, you’ll never get anywhere,” I shoot back, raising my voice. “You call me every game and do nothing but find fault, but I don’t see you on the ice. I don’t remember you making a league team or doing anything but running your fucking mouth behind a phone screen.”
And at that moment, all I can think about is what he would say if you knew about Aurora. About the possibility of me having a baby? Would he see that as another failure, another way I’ve let him down? Or would he finally see me as a man?
“Watch who you’re talking to, boy,” he threatens. An empty one at best, one that I don’t plan on paying any attention to. I’m an adult. There’s nothing he can do to change that.
“I know exactly who I’m talking to,” I insist, intent on speaking my mind. “You’re weak. You’re pathetic for wanting to bring down your own son just to make you feel tall again.”
I can practically hear the phone cracking in his hand. I know the best and worst part of all this is that I’m not wrong.
For too many years, I’ve let my father live his hockey dreams vicariously through me. But I’m done with that. If he wants me to be in his life, he’s going to have to change.
“If your mother was here—“
“She would have told you off for saying any of that shit to me,” I cut in. “You criticize, but I’m the one making my dreams come true, not you. So, here’s what’s going to happen. Either you get with the program and realize you can’t talk to me that way ever again, or I’m out and we can consider our relationship severed for good. The choice is yours.”
Before he can say anything more, I hang up the phone and toss it on the kitchen counter.
The adrenaline rushing through me causes my breath to come out faster than normal.
I know this is a conversation that’s long overdue, and holy shit if it doesn’t feel weird finally telling my father to fuck off.
I stare at the phone, my father’s words echoing in my head. ‘You need to step up, or you’ll never get anywhere.’ He has no idea. Stepping up isn’t just about hockey anymore. It’s about Aurora, about this potential kid. And I have no fucking clue how to do that.
I hear the rustle of fabric, and I turn to see Aurora in the doorway. I straighten up, looking around.
Fuck, here we go.
“Did you need to use the kitchen?”
She shakes her head. “No, I just…” Her voice trails off, but before I can ask her what’s wrong, she’s already moving, coming at me with surprising speed. When her arms wrap around my shoulders, I instinctively wrap mine around her waist.
“I’m so proud of you for standing up to your dad.”
Her words have me letting out a deep breath, and I feel my body relaxing for the first time in a long time. “Thanks.”
When Aurora pulls back, her eyes are shiny with unshed tears, but her lips are split in a wide smile.
It’s strange to see her crying and yet so happy, and even stranger to believe that it’s all for me.
I don’t deserve kindness like this—but fuck if I’m not tired of denying myself the one thing I want almost more than anything.
Her.
But then reality crashes back in. The text. The pharmacy. I swallow hard, steeling myself. “Well?” I manage to croak out.
Aurora’s smile falters. “You figured it out, huh?” She sighs. “The box says it’s best to test first thing in the morning for a more accurate read.”
My heart pounds in my chest. “Aurora, I... I can’t do a baby right now. I’m just getting my shot at a real career. A kid would...” I trail off, seeing the hurt flash in her eyes.
“Ruin everything?” she finishes, her voice flat. “Got it.”
Before I can say anything else, she’s out of my arms and heading for the door. “Aurora, wait—“
But she’s already gone, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the weight of what I’ve just said crushing down on me.