She only wants friendship, and part of me wants to respect that. The other part, the irrational part, is screaming for more. More moments like the hug we shared tonight. I yearn to hold her close every night, making sure she’s safe in my arms while that baby of ours grows up healthy and strong.
Fuck, I barely even know her. But I know she’s already becoming the most important part of my life. I can’t mess this up. I can’t mess her up. I just can’t.
But that’s the part that terrifies me the most. I’ve always beengreat at hockey, the game I can play with my eyes closed and hands behind my back.
But being a dad? A partner? A guy who deserves someone like her?
I have no damn clue how to be any of that.
Damn, I’m truly fucked.
The ballroom hums with the murmur of conversation, interrupted by bursts of laughter and clinking glasses. As I lift my drink for another swig, a voice from my left surprises me, sharp and unmistakably familiar.
“So, you knocked up the GM’s daughter.” Åkerman’s low whisper in Swedish is laced with amusement. When I turn, there’s that damn million-dollar smile of his once again. He’s so smug in his designer suit. “I overheard you two earlier. What a shitshow.”
“Fuck off, Åkerman,” I mutter, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. “I’m painfully aware of how screwed I am. I don’t need you to rub it in my face.”
He leans casually against the wall, his posture relaxed. “Look at you, acting all high and mighty, telling me to get lost.”
“You don’t know anything,Viking.” I use the pretentious nickname he’s had since college. How fucking original.Not.
“I’m just saying,” he continues with a shrug, “you’ll need a friend once Jeremy finds out that his new player is the father of his first grandchild.”
“I already have enough friends. I don’t need another one,” I shoot back, barely glancing at him as I scan the room for an escape route with no luck. “Especially not you.”
Åkerman snorts and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Famous last words.”
I roll my eyes, the weight of the conversation already pressing down on me. “Can we not do this right now?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Well, I was told by more than one person that they won’t let us leave this party unless we sort out our shit.”
“I just found out I’m going to be a dad. That’s enough excitement for one night. Do wereallyhave to talk?” I ask again, rubbing a hand over my face. I’m so over this entire conversation.
“Yep.”
“Well, shit.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and Åkerman chuckles, his grin widening. That expression reminds me of times when things were simpler between us.
“That was my reaction, too, if that helps.”
I shake my head, turning to face him head-on. “So, where should we start?”
He straightens slightly, his expression softening, though the edge of sarcasm still lingers on his face. “How about you apologize for being a dickhead, and trusting the rumors instead of me before spreading lies about me?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
His eyes narrow. “Then tell me how it went down. Because from what I remember, you lost it over the idea I’d slept withyour girlfriend, and next thing I knew, half the campus thought I’d cheated on my exams.”
“I—I can’t talk about it,” I stammer, my voice barely audible over the partygoers.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t trust you anymore,” I admit, the words heavier than I expected. Saying my thoughts aloud and acknowledging my feelings doesn’t make it feel any less awful. “But you should know that I wasn’t the one who started it.”
His smile fades, his shoulders tensing. “Fuck, Westerholm, you can be so dense.”
“Like you’re one to talk.”
“So, would it help if I said I was sorry?”
