Hard Checked (Ice Kings #4) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,69
am I supposed to say to him? Should I tell him what’s happening? Should I wait to see if there’s anything to tell him at all? He leaves tomorrow for their last road trip before playoffs. I won’t know anything for certain until I either grow a pair of lady balls and take the pregnancy test I bought this afternoon or go to my appointment on Friday.
By then, he’ll be in Vancouver, making a quick trek across the western half of Canada before flying back home from Calgary.
Since I have no idea what to say to him and I know he’ll catch on to something being wrong if I see him tonight, I haven’t answered the text.
Does that make me a sissy? Probably.
Do I have a better option? I haven’t been able to figure that one out yet.
Steven jostles my knee as he shoves forward in his chair. His hands are wrapped around his mouth, creating a megaphone while he shouts at the players, cheers for them. I only wish I could be this excited about everything.
It’s only the first period. I have forty-five minutes left of the game tonight to figure out a response.
Forty-five more minutes to sit here, in the stands, wishing I was cheering on Sebastian with abandon like the rest of the home crowd, trying to figure out what in the hell will happen to me, to us, if I actually am pregnant.
It’s torture.
I might be snuggled between two of the men who love me most in the world and in an arena of thousands, but I’ve never felt more alone. Or lost.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sebastian
I charge Maddox on the ice, slamming my body into his and almost taking us off our skates. It’s Sawyer Chauncy, the third man to slam into our huddle but not the last that does it.
I fall onto Maddox and roll to my side, right before Mikah Lutzgo joins us and soon, the rest of the team has dog-piled on top of us on the ice right in front of the goal Maddox has spent the last hour defending with perfection. Tradition has us skating to the goalie after a win and slapping him on the helmet, but this game, this moment, is too big for a simple congratulations.
“We did it!” someone shouts.
“Hell yeah!”
“Championship bound, baby!”
We’re all cheering and shouting at the same time while around us, the small amount of Ice Kings fans that have cheered for us in Calgary refuse to leave their stands.
Climbing to our feet, my cheeks have never felt so tight. It’s this damn smile. This team and this season that does it. We’ve just beaten Calgary, securing a first-round bye for the playoffs. Two weeks off of practices and conditioning before we start round two of games with the home advantage in Charlotte.
This is it. Our moment.
Jason comes up and slaps the side of my face, pulling me to my feet as we skate to Calgary and fist pump gloves before they take off the ice.
We head down our own hallway, cheers echoing, congratulations being shouted from all the members of the Ice Kings who handle all of our behind the scenes work.
Tessa, who has traveled with us is there, tears streaming down her face, hands clasped together. Jason doesn’t even break stride when he shoves his arm behind her, lifts her into the air and kisses her to even more raucous cheers and jubilation.
In the locker room, champagne is shaken and uncorked, glasses are filled. Bottles are dumped over Coach Woods before we have the time to remove our skates or helmets.
Fucking hockey. It’s the best damn thing in the world.
“All right! All right!” Coach Woods shouts, champagne dripping from the tips of his graying hair, champagne glass raised in the air. “Y’all did this! And you should be proud of yourselves, right?!”
Everything he says is cut short by another whoop or holler that bounces off the walls in the vast space.
“Now. Take the night. Celebrate responsibly. Enjoy the long weekend off because next week, we’re back to work so we can end this year the best!”
More shouts. More celebrations that eventually fizzle to a dull roar while guys start stripping off sweaty and now champagne-soaked gear before we’re showered and re-dressed in suits, ready to catch the bus on the way back to the hotel.
During all of this, guys are on the phones, calling wives and girlfriends, and in my hand, I frown at the blank screen of my phone.