Briggs’s face shades to a sweeter smile. “I’m sorry. How are you?”
“Healthy. Although nauseous and tired.”
“Shit, that’s not great… Now, who is it?” His hunt to kill returns.
I gently shake my head, annoyed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m doing this on my own, so accept that. Do this one thing for me and don’t push for more info. I’m happy with my choice and this surprise.” I’m adamant and stern with my voice.
He takes a moment to reflect then rolls his lips in. “Okay… I don’t like it, but okay. If that’s what you need.”
“It is. I don’t want you to be disappointed in me. I really am excited for this.”
Briggs gives me his signature warm smile that lights up the room. “I know you can do this. I’ll be there for you. I’m just a little taken aback, but I won’t leave you hanging. Anything you need, okay?”
“That’s what I wanted to hear. It’s still a ways to go, and I need to find a new place with a bit more room, not to mention stock up on supplies. But it just feels right.”
He pulls me into a hug, exactly what I need right now. It gives me strength. It means the world to me that Briggs is on my team.
I’m not naïve, I’m aware at some point he will circle back to who the father is. But I’ll hold off as long as I can, because I know there will be repercussions when he discovers the truth.
And I’m still undecided if I’ll change my mind and tell Vaughn.
7
VAUGHN
FEBRUARY
Looking out at the sun over the Gulf, I hold a scotch in hand.
That’s it. The end of my career.
A AC joint injury and it’s over. One injury too many and I’m out early in the season. I refuse to leave as a man sitting on the bench, unable to play. Instead, I’m going to come to an agreement on the buyout that both sides want so we can end my contract early. I would much rather retire as a man who had a good last game until the injury in the second period than a guy watching from the offside.
It's already over the sports news, the speculations of my next move.
Still, my career is setting like the sun out ahead.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I choose to ignore it. For the past week, I’ve been getting an abundance of texts, but I’m simply not in the mood to answer.
Not the one from my brother. Nor the one from Connor.
I’m allowed to wallow in this moment, right?
This time my cell rings, and I pull it out purely to hit decline and set my phone on silent. But then I see a name that I wasn’t expecting in the slightest.
Isla.
And for some reason, I answer.
She’s the last one I should talk to right now, considering she made it clear that we really were a one-night thing. I even got the impression that she really didn’t want to speak to me anymore. Since we originally did agree on one night, then I haven’t put in any effort to contact her since Christmas.
I bring the phone to my ear. “Isla.” My tone is simple.
“Hey… Vaughn…” She seems to be struggling to put together a sentence.
“That’s it? You called to say ‘hey, Vaughn?’” It causes her to half-laugh which kind of annoys me.
I walk inside, closing the double doors behind me, listening to Isla hum a sound.
