Chapter 58
RUNNING THOUGHTS
FLETCHER
THIRTY-FIVE WEEKS PREGNANT
“Come on, Waffles!” I hit my hand on the outside of the boards as Shepherd skates toward the goal on a breakaway.
The crowd is on its feet, cheering him on.
He shoots, but the goalie catches it, and the crowd groans, dropping back into their seats. The whistle blows, and Waffles drops his head in a moment of defeat. He comes back to the boards, swapping out with Monroe.
I pat him on the head. “Hey, don’t sweat it.”
He nods, but I can tell he’s beating himself up.
Play resumes on the ice, with Calvin winning the face-off. This is the last game before we head to the playoffs, and if we win this, we get home-ice advantage for the first two games.
I, for one, hope we get that advantage. I’m feeling antsy after Lydia’s thirty-five-week appointment this afternoon.
The doctor anticipates Lydia going into labor early based on how the baby is positioned or something.
To be honest, I wasn’t really listening after she said there was a potential the baby could come early.
There’s still so much to do, and my mom isn’t coming up for another three weeks.
I was making lists and plans in my head for the rest of the appointment.
Lydia’s totally chill about everything, but I couldn’t be more anxious.
The thought of missing the birth of our daughter is too hard to bear.
Not only that, but add in the stress of the playoffs, and I’m on a hair-trigger.
The car seat bases are installed in both of our vehicles, and Lydia is packing her hospital bag at home as we speak.
We’re as ready as we possibly can be, but there’s a niggling voice in my head telling me I need to prep for every possibility.
And one of those possibilities is that I could be halfway across the country when Lydia goes into labor.
If that happens, I’ll have to rely on Grace, Zoey, and Hattie to be there for her until I can. And if my mom is here by then, she’ll have to be the one to take care of her.
For now, the more time I can spend at home, the better.
We end up winning the game in overtime, thankfully giving us home-ice advantage for the first two games. I give a rousing speech and get the guys excited for the upcoming series, but inside, I’m trying not to spiral.
I shower, and when I head back to my locker, Trigg, Adam, and Calvin are standing around waiting for me.
“What’s up?” I ask as I grab my phone, scanning the screen for any messages from Lydia. Thankfully, the only one is her congratulating me on the win.
A bag of popcorn rests on the bench in front of my locker, and I smile, silently thanking the social media girl, Vivi, for getting this for me. I texted her before the game today, asking if she could get me a bag since Lydia wasn’t coming. Thankfully, she obliged.
“What are you doing tonight?” Adam asks, running a hand through his dark brown hair.
“Honestly, I’m probably going to head right home. With how close Lydia is to the end of her pregnancy…”
Trigg nods, resting a hand on my shoulder. “We get it. We were going to see if you wanted to come over for a celebratory drink, but you need to get home.”
I nod. “Yeah. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stand the thought of being away from her for another minute. Maybe when we’re out of town, we can go out for one or something.”
“We’ll play it by ear,” Adam says.
Calvin shoves his hands in his pockets as he glances at me.
“What?” I ask him when he doesn’t say anything.
A huge smile breaks out on his face, and he gently punches my shoulder. “You’re going to be a dad, man!” He pulls me into a long hug, slapping my back. “Fuck, I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I reply, trying to swallow down the emotion in my voice.
“I’m totally not jealous at all.”
“You want to settle down, Miller?” I tease, needing to make the moment less emotional.
When he pulls away, his expression is somber. Huh, I guess he really does want to settle down. I log that into my memory, knowing he might need someone to talk to about this later. Right now, I need to get home. Every moment I’m away from Lydia is giving me hives.
The guys and I walk to our cars together, and when I climb into mine, tossing the bag of popcorn into the passenger seat, I glance at the car seat in the back.
This is all so surreal. Not even nine months ago, my life was completely different.
Now, I have the woman of my dreams, and we’re starting our life together and welcoming our first child in the next few weeks. It can’t get any better than this.
Well, maybe if we win the Cup this season, but right now, I’m more than happy with where things are.
When I finally make it to our apartment, I breathe in the familiar scent of home, or rather, the familiar scent of Lydia. She’s nowhere in sight, and though I know she’s probably in bed, my heart pounds a little faster.
I creep walk down the hall, popcorn bag in hand. Pushing open our bedroom door, the lamp washes the room in warmth. Lydia is propped against the headboard, a pile of yarn in her lap as she works on her latest project. It looks like a black-and-white blob, and I can’t figure out what it is.
“Hey, beautiful.” I hold up the popcorn bag.
“Yay!” Lydia squeals, resting the project on her belly.
I bring the popcorn to her side, but instead of giving it to her, I lean in, slanting my lips over hers and stealing a kiss first.
“Hi,” I whisper against her lips. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” She peppers kisses all over my cheeks and face, distracting me as she yanks the baggie from my hand. Immediately, she digs into the buttery popcorn, shoving a handful into her mouth and moaning. “God, this is so good.”
“You don’t even make that sound when I eat your pussy,” I tease, kicking off my shoes and rounding the bed to climb on.
“Shut up,” Lydia mumbles through her mouthful.
I chuckle as I settle in next to her bump, running my hand over it. “Hey, my little ladybug.” When she kicks my hand at the sound of my voice, my heart skips. I feel so much better already, just being here with them. “I missed you, too. Were you good to your mom while I was gone?”
She thumps my hand again, almost like she’s acknowledging that I’m speaking to her.
“She wasn’t,” Lydia says. “She’s been kicking my bladder every five minutes.”
“That’s not very nice,” I say to Lydia’s bump, wishing I could take away her discomfort for even a day. “I know you’re running out of room in there, but you need to be good to your mom.”
I talk to my daughter for a while, telling her all about tonight’s game and how the playoff series works. By the time I finish, the weight that settled on my chest during the game has eased, and I’m feeling better.
Lydia has finished her popcorn and has been running her fingers through my hair.
“You okay?” she asks as I scoot up on the bed, resting my back against the headboard.
Shrugging, I lean in to rest my head on her shoulder. “I’m anxious.”
“What about?” Lydia asks, resting her hand on mine over her stomach.
“Everything. Leaving you, the possibility of you going into labor when I’m across the country, you being alone with the baby, something happening during your labor.”
She squeezes my hand. “I get it. It’s a lot, but we’ll just have to take it as it comes. And next time, we have to make sure not to have a baby in the middle of playoffs.”
“Next time?” I lift my head, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth as I stare into those blue eyes.
They widen as she realizes what she’s said. “Um, no—”
“No take-backs,” I shout, excited. “You’re already thinking about having another.”
With a resolved sigh, Lydia nods. “Yeah. I am. I always wanted a sibling growing up, and as uncomfortable as I am, this pregnancy hasn’t been too horrible.”
“So, when would we have to get pregnant for you to deliver in the off-season?” I question as I settle back in beside her.
Lydia picks up her crochet hook and resumes her project. I still can’t figure out what it is, but I’m sure she’ll show me later.
“Probably October or November? That would have me delivering mid to end of summer, which would work out well even if you make it all the way to the final round of the playoffs.”
“Hmm,” I reply, already thinking about what our life with two kids would be like as opposed to one. “I love you.”
Lydia leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “I love you, Fletcher.”
“What are you making?” I finally ask when curiosity gets the better of me.
“A hockey puck.” She shifts the yarn a bit. “See? Here’s his little arms and his little legs with his skates.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s actually so cute. How did you do that?”
“I found the pattern on Etsy. I figured she could have this one to play with and bring to games, and then you could give her her first real hockey puck when we go to her first game.”
“Can’t wait.”
My anxieties over the next few weeks are still present, and unfortunately, the only cure for them is time, but having my girl makes everything a bit easier.