I have to convince Haisley to move in with me or something. I don’t want our future kid splitting time between two households. That sounds really complicated to everyone involved. But from what I’ve gathered, getting her to agree with my plan will not be easy. She seems independent and doesn’t need me coming in and telling her what to do.
Well, challenge accepted. Bring it on. Even if I don’t know how my quiet lifestyle outside hockey will survive sharing my space with someone. And later with a baby. But I can figure it all out later.
“Should we exchange phone numbers or something?” I say awkwardly. Because like an idiot I got her pregnant and don’t even have something so simple as her digits.
Her eyes narrow. “Are you sure that you don’t have my number already?”
“Why would I?”
Haisley huffs and turns to leave, but I catch her wrist. Her skin is soft beneath my fingers, and I have to ignore the jolt that shoots through me at the contact. Just like I’m trying to ignore the fact that she’s wearing the same lipstick from that night, and that her curve-hugging silvery dress fits her perfectly, as if it was made for her.
“What did I say?” I ask, annoyance evident in my voice.
“I need to go.”
“Please don’t leave until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Fine,” she says, shaking my hand off and crosses her arms. “I left my number. But you never called.”
My mind scrambles to catch up. “I never got your number!”
“I left it on the nightstand at the hotel.”
“Oh shit.” She cocks an eyebrow, still irritated, so I continue. “I overslept that morning, and my teammates had to wake me up. I left the room in a damn hurry.”
“So, you didn’t see my note?”
“No!” I’m pacing the room again. “Fuck, Haisley, I would’ve called. I wouldn’t have ghosted you. God, I wantedto find you so damn much. That night was one of the best I’ve ever had. Then you were gone. I regretted not asking for your name because I wanted to find you after.”
“Now I know that you’re not atotaljerk.”
“And we both wanted more than a one-time-only thing.”
“It can’t be more, though. We need to stay friends,” she says, rubbing her still flat stomach. The gesture is small, but it makes something possessive curl inside me. That’s our baby in there. “You’re one of my dad’s players. We can’t put team dynamics and your career at risk if something between us two goes wrong. I want you to stay here in New York for the sake of the baby.”
It would be so easy to argue and tell her that I want more. But I don’t want to scare her away. Not now. Not when we’re starting to figure this out.
“Agreed.”
Her expression softens. “Good. I better get back to the celebration before my family starts a search party.”
“Text me about the next doctor’s appointment.”
“I will. Have fun tonight. But not too much, okay? Your baby mama wants no drama.”
I chuckle. “I’ll behave. I promise.”
“Later, Mister.”
“Later, Poppy.”
I watch her walk away. And it hits me how much I don’t want her to go.
How the hell did I go from being a new guy on the team who was only focused on hockey to this? To having a baby with the daughter of my freaking GM?
I still can’t fucking believe it.
And why does the thought of her being pregnant with my baby make my chest feel ready to burst? There’s a growing desire inside me to protect her and the little life we created. I want to protect what’s mine. But I don’t know what I’m doing.
