Millie Jones, the sweet, soft woman who’d snuck into my heart the moment I’d sat down at her table at the team’s favorite restaurant, was having my baby.Mybaby.And she expectednothingfrom me.
That had been just a courtesy call—a heads-up.
I rose, driven by resentment and, yeah, anger.“I don’t expect anything from you…”
She damn wellshouldexpect a lot from me, like being a father.
I tried her again.
Nothing.
My legs gave out, and my ass landed hard on the edge of the sofa before sliding off.I ended up sprawled in front of my leather sectional, a hand-me-down from Maxim, my vision tunneling and anger pumping into my temples.
This was my kid, too.I would be part of his life.
Oh, hell!What if I had a girl?
My eyes widened, and I barked out a laugh as I leaned my head back against the cushion.That would be the universe’s best joke, one I’d deserve.
I called her again.
Declined.
“Why the fuckare you on the floor?”Cruz rasped as he came to stand over me some time later.
Shit.I was supposed to be ready to go to Cormac’s.I’d lost track of time, thanks to Millie’s life bomb.
Cruz had taken me under his wing last season and acted like a big brother.Without him, I’d forget to go—or not want to deal with extra game-footage-and-strategy meetings.That didn’t fly on a professional team, so Cruz, who lived in the same condo building as me, had become my nanny.
I hated that I needed him.But I did.
At twenty-three, some of this adulting shit was more than I could handle.
I typed out a message to Millie:We need to talk.
It showed read.
We’re going to talk about this, Millie.And you damn well better expect something from me.That’s my kid, too.
She read that message as well.I waited.No dots.Nothing.
Damn her smart, stubborn little head.
“Get your ass up.We’re going to be late, and you know I can’t stand being late.”Cruz grumbled as he stalked off to my bedroom, cursing when he realized my bag with my notebook and playbook wasn’t packed.“On your feet, Stolly.Let’s go.”
I rose, first to a knee with my hand on the couch.Then I wobbled to my feet.
“No shoes?”Cruz threw up his hands and headed back into my bedroom.He stormed out, face like thunder.Well, that’s always how he looked.Something in my expression must have signaled how close I was to breaking.
“You okay?”he asked gently.“You on something?”
Cruz was a huge grizzly of a man with a thick, wild beard and a cutting stare.But he was also sensitive.He cried at commercials, but none of us teased him because he was all business on the ice, protecting our asses from the opposing defensive players, who wanted to pound us into the boards.
He, Cormac, and Maxim made up our most potent defense, the one that had led us to the championship in my first year with the team.We were well in the mix for another shot at the Cup.And I refused to do anything to jeopardize that.
“I don’t do drugs,” I said, offended.Then I blew out an unsteady breath.Swallowed.What to say?“The first woman I really, really liked—the one who hooked up with me at Naese’s party months ago, who I couldn’t stop thinking about—left,” I told him.“That was it because she wasn’t willing to try for more.”I grimaced, hating how much that still stung.
“Now, she’s back,” I continued after a moment.“But only to tell me she’s pregnant with my kid.”I dropped my head into my hands, fingers tunneling into my hair.“That sounds…sordid.Lessthan what I wanted with Millie from the get-go.”
