Hard Checked (Ice Kings #4) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,68
NoDa where I wandered the streets, finding little to be inspired by but I took a few pictures of trees beginning to bud and bloom. I quickly edited them and uploaded them with cheesy captions about the city feeling alive in the newly spring sunshine.
I’m packing up all my gear at the coffee shop when a text comes through my phone.
I grin, seeing Sebastian’s name and open it.
Tickets are ready for you. Can’t wait to see you later. Cheer loud for me.
I quickly type back, Will do, hotshot.
Immediately, I receive back a kissing emoji.
If I were a teenage girl, I’d squeal and hug my phone to my chest. Possibly scratch out our initials inside a heart with an arrow pierced through it. As it is, I’m in my late twenties and I still feel heat spreading to my cheeks.
Sebastian Hendrix uses kissing emojis.
Adorable.
When I go to slide my phone back in my satchel, I see the notification of my voicemail I haven’t checked or cleared. It’s probably nothing, but I always check voicemails just in case although usually it’s only to hear about how I’ve won a free vacation, how I should make sure I’m registered to vote, or the most annoying of all… the grating tone from what sounds like an old school fax machine.
Still, ever since I missed my aunt’s calls in Europe to tell me about my dad, I always check them.
I pull it up, and as soon as the voice starts talking, a rushing sound roars through my ears.
“Hi Georgia Barnes, this is Pam Wilson from Dr. Marie Connor’s office. Our records indicate you were due…”
Oh dear God in heavens.
No.
No way.
I end the voicemail, blood racing through my veins and pull up my calendar app.
I’m not overdue for my birth control shot. It’s supposed to be April third. I’ve known that since I made the last appointment.
Except.
“No.” I blink repeatedly as I stare at the calendar and the appointment listed. The one I missed.
March fourth. Three-four, not four-three.
Holy freaking crap.
Almost a full freaking month late?
“This can’t be,” I mutter. This can absolutely not be right.
It has to be.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I repeat to myself.
Sebastian can’t have children.
He’s clean.
But ever since that day in the shower, we started foregoing condoms. Which means we’ve been having sex. A LOT OF SEX.
And I was supposed to get my shot weeks ago.
Which still, it’s fine. FINE. It can take several weeks past this for the shot to wear off. It’s not like you miss it and you’re instantly fertile myrtle.
Right?
Right.
I pull up my recent calls and call them back.
Ten minutes later, I have an appointment for Friday because they couldn’t squeeze me in today or tomorrow and twenty minutes later I have a small box in a white bag shoved to the bottom of my satchel from a convenience store down the street from my apartment.
There’s absolutely, positively, no way in hell I’m pregnant.
But I might as well take a test. Just to settle my nerves and confirm what I already know for a fact.
Sebastian can’t have children.
Therefore, there’s absolutely no way in hell I’m pregnant.
I’m squished between my dad and Steve, both of whom jumped at the opportunity to see the Ice Kings play live. The game is going on in front of us, fifteen rows up from center ice across from the team’s benches. The seats are incredible. Low enough to feel the energy on the ice with the perfect views of both sides. I can still barely keep my eyes on the puck as it flies across the ice and every time a player is thrown into the boards, I jump in my seat much to Dad and Steve’s amusement.
Why they insisted on squishing me between them is anyone’s guess when they keep leaning in front of me to talk.
I’ve known from watching games on TV that the Ice Kings aren’t only a great team, but that Sebastian is an incredible player. Seeing him live conjures an entirely different sensation in my stomach. He’s fast. Strong. He has no problems checking an opponent into a wall and he’s stolen several seemingly well-aimed passes, cleared the net and protected Maddox from having to save a shot on goal.
And still, with all the excitement, the energy around us and the happiness I feel at Sebastian’s parting words, I can barely focus.
I have an unanswered text from him burning a hole in my coat pocket.
Tickets are ready for you. Your place or mine after the game?