Chapter 3
DOTTIE ALWAYS KNOWS
LYDIA
“Tell me, honey,” Dottie coos, adjusting in her seat. “How are you?”
The second period has just ended, and the Blue Herons are up by two with Fletcher getting one assist.
“Good.” I smile. “Of course, it’s always busy when the season starts, but things have been good.”
I don’t tell her about the nausea burning a hole in my stomach, or the constant knowledge that there is a positive or negative pregnancy test waiting in my bathroom drawer right now.
“Are you sure?” Her brow furrows, her eyes narrowing. “Something is off with you.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “I’m okay, really.”
Ron sits back down next to Dottie with armfuls of food. One arm holds two beers, and the other is stacked with hot dogs and a bucket of popcorn.
“I grabbed you ladies some snacks,” he says, passing down one of the beers.
I take it from him, lifting it to my mouth and rethinking my choice as soon as the bubbly liquid touches my lips. If I’m pregnant, I can’t drink. Awkwardly, I set the full cup into my cup holder and sink back into my chair.
“What’s wrong, Lydia?” Ron asks curiously. “Not the right kind?”
“No, it’s fine.” I lean forward, smiling at him.
Fletcher shares so many characteristics with his dad. They have the same eyes and jawline. Sometimes, Ron will say something, and it catches me off guard how much they’re alike.
“Are you sure?” Dottie says. “You’re really pale.”
“I’m fine, I promise.” I swallow the extra saliva in my mouth and try to push down the surge of nausea.
There are three minutes left before the third period starts.
I don’t want to miss a second that Fletcher is on the ice, but I really think I’m going to be sick.
The smell of the beer was enough to make the nausea that’s been simmering in my stomach all night ramp to a new level.
I wrote it off as anxiety, but now, I’m not so sure.
“Actually, I’ll be right back.” I rush out of the aisle toward the suite’s bathroom, but I barely make it in before I’m gagging and heaving into the sink. Nothing comes up but bile.
A knock on the door sends more dread racing through my body.
“Lydia, honey?” Dottie yells.
I look into the mirror, and god, I look horrible. My eyes are watering and bloodshot, and my face is pale. “Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
My heart drops into my already empty stomach. The sudden and aggressive nausea has passed, leaving me exhausted. Wiping the saliva from my lips with a paper towel, I unlock and open the door.
Dottie steps into the small bathroom and pulls me into a hug. Tears burn my eyes as she holds me tightly.
“What’s going on? Do you need to go home?”
I shake my head into her shoulder. “I’m fine. It’s been a long day.”
“Are you sick? Or is it something you ate? I can bring you home if you need.”
I shake my head without thinking. “No, I’m not sick.”
“Lydia, honey, are you pregnant?” Dottie murmurs into my ear, quiet enough that I can barely hear, but I know what she’s saying.
I take a deep breath and pull back, wiping the tears streaming down my cheeks. Shrugging, I say, “I think so. I tried taking a test today, but I had to leave before I saw the results.”
Dottie wipes the tears from my cheeks. “Do you… know who the father is?”
I nod, swallowing my embarrassment. “We aren’t together. We went on a few dates, and then he ghosted me. I don’t know what to do, Dottie.”
My voice shakes as the weight of it all grows heavy on my shoulders.
Dottie cups my cheeks, holding my gaze. “Well, you know that whatever you decide, you have our support. We are here for you, and we love you, whether you’re blood or not. And you know Fletcher will be there for you no matter what. We’re your family.”
“Thank you,” I blubber.
“Does Fletcher know?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. Please don’t tell him. I’m still—I don't know what to do.”
She nods, and I drop my head onto her shoulder and wrap my arms around her.
She holds me for another minute while I cry, and when I’m done, she helps me fix my mascara, and we head back out to our seats.
The period is already a minute in, but Fletcher isn’t on the ice, so I don’t think I’ve missed too much.
If Ron notices something is amiss with me, he doesn’t say anything, and for that, I’m grateful. I’m already going to have to try to hide this from Fletcher for who knows how long, and I’m dreading that. Fletcher knows me so well. I’m sure he already suspects something after this afternoon.
The rest of the game passes quickly until we reach the final minute of play. I’m nauseous the whole time, but thankful I can watch the game as a distraction to the whirring thoughts in my brain. It’s still two to zero, and it’s looking like we are going to win with a shutout.
Fletcher hops over the boards, skating briskly across the ice toward the other team's goal. He rocks into an opposing player, takes him to the ground, and passes the puck to his teammate, Calvin Miller.
The play is so fast that if I were to blink, I would miss it. Calvin passes to Shepherd Wafford, one of the new rookies, and Shepherd shoots. The puck flies into the net above the goalie’s right shoulder. The horn sounds, the cherry lights, and the crowd erupts.
The boys rush the ice, hugging and screaming as they celebrate their win. The other team leaves the ice immediately, ignoring the cheers of excitement from our fans.
I’m sure Fletcher will have to do press tonight, so we are in for a long wait before we get to see him. That’s fine with me. I’m always happy to chat with Ron and Dottie.