The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,63
nodding. “I’m twenty-seven years old, Claire. I have a well-paying job, my own place, supportive parents and family.” I gesture at her. “I know it’s not the decision everyone would or even could make but I can and, well”—I shrug—“I always wanted to be a mom. I just thought I’d be married first.”
“Or at least dating the guy,” Claire supplies helpfully before wincing at her words.
“Or that,” I agree. “I just, I need to sort through it in my head. How it will all work, you know? I mean, I can do this on my own for sure, but if Noah wants to be involved, he can.”
Claire bites the corner of her mouth. “Talk to him, Indy.”
I blow out a deep breath and pick up my phone. With shaky fingers, I tap out a message to Noah.
Me: Hey. Can we talk?
He responds immediately, which causes a flicker of relief to roll through my body.
Noah: Hi. Of course. Are you okay?
“Damn, he’s intuitive,” Claire remarks. “Must have gotten all the intuition in the Scotch family because his brother is oblivious to life.”
Before I can formulate a response, my phone chimes again.
Noah: Do you want me to come by?
Shit. I show Claire my phone screen. “I can’t. I’m not ready to talk to him about this now.”
“Okay, that’s okay.”
“Plus, he has a big game tonight,” I add, not wanting to deliver this news before he has to appear on ESPN. God, why does that even matter right now?
Claire takes my phone and taps out a reply, showing it to me before pressing send.
Me: I’m tied up at the moment. Can we talk later? After your game tonight?
I nod and she hits send.
Noah: You coming to the game?
Me: Yes.
Noah: Okay. Wait for me afterward? We’ll grab a bite.
“I’m sure he’s not going to feel that way after I tell him I’m having his baby,” I snap. I inhale sharply, the information finally penetrating the protective walls of my brain. “Claire, I’m having a baby.”
She looks up, her eyes widening at whatever she reads on my face.
“I’m growing a person,” I add.
Claire wraps her arm around my shoulders and I lean into her. “You’re going to be an amazing mama, Indy. Trust me.” I look up at her and she grins. “I know what you’re thinking but about this, you can trust me.”
My phone dings again.
Noah: It’s okay if you don’t want to get dinner. We can just talk.
Me: We need to talk.
His response is immediate.
Noah: Indy, is everything okay?
Me: Good luck tonight. I’ll meet you after the game.
I’m relieved that Noah plays well. Focused and determined, he’s a machine on the ice, even scoring the final goal. After not seeing him for nearly a week, I can’t tear my eyes away. I watch him every second of the game with my heart in my throat and my stomach in my feet.
God, I miss him.
The few times his face appears on the jumbo screen above the ice, I wince at how exhausted he looks. Purple stamps beneath his eyes, stubble on his cheeks and chin, a severe slant to his mouth.
It doesn’t diminish from his sexiness. My heart leaps at the sight of him and for the millionth time since Thanksgiving, I wish things between us were different.
The Hawks win 5–3 and the team is in a celebratory mood. The guys whoop, slapping one another’s helmets and backs as they skate off the ice. Instead of joining them, Noah turns around and scans the WAGs area until his gaze collides with mine.
His expression is severe, his eyes dark. He dips his chin, letting me know we’re still on to talk, and I nod. Gathering up my belongings, I wait for Claire to say goodbye to some of her friends, and then we walk to the corridor where we wait for Noah and Austin.
When the first players trickle out, my back snaps straight, anticipation and nerves riding through my veins on a wave of adrenaline.
“You got this,” Claire whispers encouragingly. She tosses out hellos to the players but doesn’t draw any of them into conversation like usual.
When Austin pushes through the door, I know Noah will be right behind him. Claire steps away from me and rushes for her brother, talking a mile a minute about a family drama and ushering him right past me, shooting me a wink over her shoulder.
I turn away from Claire as a shadow falls over me, two boots stopping directly in front