The comment throws me. I absolutely never thought about myself as a parent before right now, but something deep inside me recoils at the idea that I’d be bad at it. "What?"
“The two of us together are bad news. Look how this child was conceived. What kind of father would—" She stops, pulling her hands away and pressing them to her face. "I'm sorry. That's not fair. I'm just... I'm scared. And you're Josh's teammate, and I promised myself I wouldn't?—"
"I'm not Grentley,” I say firmly. "And yeah, I fucked up. I've been fucking up a lot lately. But Sloane, I swear to you, I will not fuck this up. I will be the father this baby deserves, even if that means becoming someone completely different than who I've been."
I’m a professional fucking athlete. I know how to work hard, and obviously, I have a tough road ahead of me. But this is my kid. Operation Be A Dad started yesterday, as far as I’m concerned.
She looks at me with those impossibly green eyes, tears streaming down her face now. "I cannot have additional complications, Tucker.” She seems so, so angry and determined. “I have to focus everything I have on this baby and on starting my career. I can't lose myself again."
"You won't," I promise, even though I have no idea how to make sure that's true.
CHAPTER 14
SLOANE
I can't stop shaking.
Tucker is staring at me like I just told him hockey season is canceled, his mouth slightly open, those blue eyes wide with shock. We're standing in his ridiculously expensive apartment with its floor-to-ceiling windows and uncomfortable-looking furniture, and I just told him I'm pregnant.
With his baby.
I want to take it back. Not the pregnancy—that feels like the answer to a dream I never imagined could come true after my divorce. But I think I regret telling Tucker about it. I should have waited. Should have figured things out on my own first. Should have?—
"Are you okay?" he asks again, and the question surprises me. Notare you sure,orhow did this happen,or any of the dozen defensive reactions I'd braced myself for. Just a genuine concern about my well-being.
“I’m…fine," I manage.
He blows out a deep breath and squints. I stop myself from admitting I haven't told Mel yet, haven't made an appointment, haven't done any of the practical things I should be doing. But I know I want children, and this pregnancy seems like the answer to a lot of hurt I’ve experienced over the past decade. I just need to focus, study, create some stability. Telling Tucker about this was an item on a checklist, that’s all.
"When will you see a doctor?" His voice is urgent, almost demanding.
"I don't know. Soon. I'll make an appointment."
"I'll come with you."
The automatic assumption makes my spine stiffen. "You don't have to do that."
"I want to." He takes a step closer, and I take a step back, maintaining the distance between us. He notices, stopping immediately.
“Tucker.” I hold out my hands, palms up. "I think you're a young, professional hockey player whose life is exactly where you want it." I gesture around his apartment. “You’re focused on selling shitty condoms that clearly don’t work. And I'm telling you it's okay. But you don't have to pretend you're excited about this."
I thought Josh stole my opportunity to be a mother when he went behind my back and stopped his fertility. And now I feel like I’m stealing parenthood from this man, Josh’s teammate, who’s been nothing but good to me the few times we’ve been together.
And who also hollers my name, drunk from a riverboat full of equally drunk hockey players, parks in front of the curb cut, and knowingly sleeps with his co-worker’s ex-wife–me. The two of us are a bomb about to detonate, and if I don’t put my foot down, we will destroy everyone in our orbit.
Tucker runs a hand through his hair, and I notice it's still damp. I know that he showered after a workout. And I know what that body looks like naked and wet. He's wearing athletic shorts and a T-shirt that clings to his chest, and even now, even with everything falling apart, my traitorous body remembers what it felt like to be pressed against him.
"You're right," he finally says. "A baby wasn't part of my plan. But neither were you, and you’re changing everything.”
I don't know what to say to that.
"I will be involved, Sloane. I am this baby's father. Not just some guy who sends child support checks. An actual father."
The words should be reassuring. Instead, they cause panic to rise in my throat. "I can't recreate the dynamic I had with Josh."
He recoils. “First of all, I don’t even know what that means. But this isn’t about Grentley. This is about my kid.”
“No man will take my choices away from me again.” My voice rises despite my efforts to stay calm. “I have already done the song and dance where a man’s choices determine my life path. First, the man who killed my father, then my husband. I spentyearsadjusting to a man’s needs while all mine got shoved away. Never again.” I’m shaking now, outraged.
