Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Leif
What to Do When Hockey Instincts and Life Instincts Collide
The proverb “If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain” basically means that if something doesn’t happen, you have to make it happen yourself.
Which is why, after giving Hailey plenty of time to reach out and tell me what’s going on, I did the next logical thing—asked Jacob to find her for me.
Jacob, my agent-slash-problem-solver-slash-actual-magician, has a network of people who can find anything or anyone given enough time and motivation.
And my motivation? Hailey Jean’s disappearing act. According to Jacob’s sources, she’s currently holed up inside a not-so-fancy hotel near Central Park, probably eating ice cream and—well, who the fuck knows what she’s doing to make this all go away.
But wallowing is over. She should know better by now. I won’t let her. Which is why I’m currently standing outside the building, staring up at the windows. What the fuck happened to you, Hailey Bean?
Because something did happen. I don’t know what, exactly. But Hailey doesn’t go dark like this unless she’s avoiding something—or someone. I take the front steps two at a time and push through the doors. The lobby is modest. This is one of those places you hole yourself up when you don’t want to be found.
Which is exactly why she picked it.
The elevator closes too fast, so I take the stairs, because standing still isn’t an option right now.
She’s on the fourth floor. Room four hundred and twelve.
I slow down when I reach her door, rolling my shoulders back, setting my face into something neutral. I don’t want her to see how fucking mad I am—so fucking mad—because that won’t help.
Then I knock.
Silence.
I wait. Knock again.
Nothing.
I let out a breath, debating my next move. Break the door, call the manager or . . . as I consider calling her name so loud it’ll embarrass her, I hear shuffling inside.
A few seconds later, it cracks open just enough for her face to appear. And, okay—she looks rough. Not in the Hailey-was-out-too-late way. Not in the Hailey-just-got-off-a-long-flight way. This is something else.
Her eyes scan me quickly, like she’s deciding whether to let me in or shut the door in my face.
I hold my hands up. “Before you slam the door, let me just say—you’re really bad at ghosting people.”
She exhales, something tired, resigned. Then, without a word, she steps back and lets me inside.
The room is exactly what I pictured. A half-eaten carton of ice cream on the nightstand. A pile of blankets in a shape that suggests she’s spent way too much time under them. A movie paused on the TV—one of those predictable romcoms she swears she doesn’t love but can quote word-for-word.
She crosses her arms, shifting her weight like she’s bracing for impact. I take my time looking around before facing her fully.
“I should be flattered, you know,” I say, nodding toward the mess. “That you actually thought this was a good enough hiding spot to keep me from finding you.”
She groans and drops onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. “Leif, I swear to God?—”
“What?” I step closer. “You swear to God, what? That you were just going to keep ignoring me forever? That I’d eventually take the hint and let you spiral alone?”
She flinches, and I hate it.
Because I didn’t come here to make her feel worse.
I take a breath, forcing my voice softer. “Hailey.” I shake my head. “Whatever this is? You don’t have to do it alone.”
Her hands drop into her lap. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Her shoulders sag, her gaze flickering away. “You don’t want to be a part of this, Leif. You really don’t. Turn around and walk away.”
“Let me hear it,” I insist.
“You don’t want to hear it. Save yourself,” she mutters. “Actually, I don’t want to say it. Not now—maybe never.”
Okay, this is worse than I thought.
“Listen, Hailey, you either talk now or when we get to my place,” I warn her.
“Leave, Leif. Leave and never look back,” she says dramatically, like we’re in some black-and-white melodrama.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I knew you taking theater during senior year was going to come back and bite me in the ass.”
She glares.
I sigh. “Just tell me why your life is over, and then we’ll figure out what we’re going to do with you, Miss The-World-Is-Ending.”
She swallows hard, her throat working like she’s trying to force the words up. And then . . . “I’m pregnant.”
The words are barely above a whisper, but they gut me.
I freeze. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
She laughs, short and humorless. “There it is. That’s the look I knew you’d give me when you learned about it.”
I shake my head quickly, too quickly. “I just—” I clear my throat. “I wasn’t expecting?—”
“Yeah, well.” She snorts. “Join the club.”
Pregnant.
Hailey.
Pregnant.
I sink into the chair across from her, rubbing a hand over my jaw.
It’s fine. It’s fine. This happens, right? People have kids. They have families.
But then Killion’s voice booms in my head: Make a move before you lose her. He’s been telling me that for years. Just last month he said it again . . . And here we are.
I lost her, didn’t I?
“So . . .” I force my voice even, careful. “What are you thinking? Are you moving to Greece permanently with the guy?”
She blinks at me. Twice. “What guy?”
I study her face, looking for signs that she’s messing with me, that she’s trying to dodge the conversation like she always does.
“The guy you slept with,” I say. Because that’s why she’s avoiding me, right? The guy doesn’t want us to be friends anymore. I’ve heard of this happening.
My ribs squeeze too tight, my breath shortening, my vision tunneling in on nothing and everything at the same time.
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Leif, what the hell are you talking about?”
I shake my head, gripping the armrests to ground myself. “Is that why you didn’t call me? Because he doesn’t want me around?”
Her brows knit together. “Leif.”
My pulse thunders in my ears. This is what it feels like to lose her. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. And then?—
She snorts. She actually fucking snorts.
“Leif, get a grip,” she mutters, standing and shoving a hand through her hair. “I’m pregnant, Leif. That’s the crisis. Not some imaginary boyfriend.”
I blink at her, my brain desperately trying to rewire itself.
No guy.
No boyfriend.
She’s not dropping my sorry ass. Nope.
It’s just Hailey. My Hailey in the middle of a crisis. Then it clicks. This isn’t just my Hailey anymore. It’s Hailey and a baby.She’s freaking out because she thinks she’s alone on this one. Like I’ll let her do it on her own.
This. This is something I can handle. “Okay, what’s the plan? Are we keeping the baby?”