If something happened to her phone.
What I can do.
“So what’s going on then?” Porter says.
“What’s going on is nobody’s fucking business until someone makes it everybody’s fucking business,” Fletcher says. “Maybe something’s going on. Maybe nothing’s going on. You want to sit here and speculate on some shit that could get Holt fired? Even if it’s not true?”
If they’re really family, they’ll be on your side, I hear Caden say.I’d be on your side.
Shit.
Fuck.
I look at Ziggy again.
Pretty sure she wants to crawl through the floor and live in the floorboards for the next few months.
And I have to tell my teammates what’s going on.
Trust them.
This is a fuckton easier when it’s someone else’s problem. Someone else’s secret.
“It was an accident,” I say on a sigh.
“Youarethe dad!” Tatum says.
“Christ on a cinnamon roll,” I mutter to the ceiling.
“I was pregnant before I came back to the States,” Ziggy tells him, her attention still half on me.
I nod.Tell them.
She’s not getting fired.
Roland will take good care of her.
It’s me. I’m the one with the most to lose. With everything to lose.
We both know it.
So I have to do this. Not her.
“Ziggy and I met by accident,” I say, louder. More specific. “I asked her to house-sit for me while I was in Spain.”
“Like you met in a car accident?” Tatum asks.
“At my night job,” I tell him.
“Where the other staff told me he played lacrosse,” Ziggy fills in.
Groans go up around the room.
She stifles a smile by pinching her lips together, and that little smile—knowing she mentioned lacrosse on purpose to get a reaction and unite them—it helps me breathe again.
Jessica snorts happily.
She can apparently handle being in a room of men so long as Ziggy’s rubbing her belly.
