35. JT

CHAPTER 35

JT

My shitty day just got shittier. My reaction times were slow at practice, which meant Coach was shooting daggers at me, and then I spent three hours at the library working on a group project. I’ve got a Pre-Calc test tomorrow that I didn’t study for, and Griggs keeps blowing up my phone because Curtis’s parole was granted, and he thinks the three of us should celebrate his release.

Not fucking likely .

What I need is a shower, a chance to jerk the fuck off because I want Maggie so damn badly that I can’t see straight, and to fall into bed and sleep with my girl in my arms. Maggie’s embrace is the only place I get any peace these days.

Instead of sleeping soundly, Maggie’s waiting up for me. She wants to talk about the future, and I don’t have answers. My scholarship covers room and board, meals, and a small stipend for basic expenses. We’re okay right now, and I’ll go back to landscaping as soon as the semester is over. Cash isn’t going to be a problem once I get called up, even to the minors. Having a job during the season is a big no-no. Would I love the extra money a part-time job would bring in? Sure. But I also love the few hours of sleep I manage to get each night. There’s too much to do and not enough of me to get it done, but that’s just the way it has to be for now. I’ll figure out how to support my family, and I’ll do it without stressing Maggie out. She has enough to worry about.

Tossing my jeans and hoodie in the hamper, I grab my towel from the hook on our closet door. I’m leaving my boxers on because even though they can’t hide my erection, they at least create a barrier. I turn back to Maggie and kiss her forehead, my dick already painfully hard just because I’m this close to her. God, she looks so fucking good in our bed, so sexy in my t-shirt even though it’s stretched to capacity across her breasts and belly.

I know she wants me to crawl into bed with her, to wrap her legs around my neck and not come up for air until she’s come apart all over my face. I know she wants my dick just as much as I want to give it to her. I know she needs the release as badly as I do.

But I can’t give her any of that, so instead of seeing the look on her face as I let her down once again, I swing my towel over my shoulder and head for the shower. I take three steps before she bursts into tears and my heart cracks in two. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head up to the ceiling and pinch the bridge of my nose to release the pressure building there. I count to five, but it doesn’t help. I try again, but I’m turning on my heel and making my way back to her before the numbers appear in my mind.

Lying next to her, I pull her close and press another kiss to her temple. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, Cinderella,” I say, doing my best to sound soothing while I studiously ignore the way her full tits brush against my arm as she sucks in a breath and tries to calm her tears.

“It’s not okay,” she says around a hiccup.

“What’s not okay? What do you need?” I know the baby is fine. We just got a glowing report this morning, and she’s far enough along that if something changed, we’d be calling the doctor or going to the hospital.

“I need you,” she tells me, and I can see in her eyes that the words leave her feeling raw and exposed. “You haven’t touched me since we moved in two weeks ago. You hug me like I’m a baby bird you’re afraid of hurting. You could barely look at me just now. Why? Why, JT? Because I know you love me and that you think I’m beautiful. You say it all the time, but you haven’t come near me. And god, if you think I’m unattractive now, just wait. We have fifteen more weeks to go and?—”

“Stop right there,” I say, my control snapping in two. My lips find hers and I put everything I have into our kiss. All the love I have for her, all the fear that’s running through my brain, all the need that’s coursing through my veins. We break apart, both needing to come up for air. Slipping my hand into the waistband of my boxers, I stroke myself a few times. “To quote your bestie, ‘Be so fucking for real right now.’ Does it look like I don’t find you attractive?”

She cracks a smile, then sobers. “I just wondered because?—”

“No need to wonder, Maggie,” I say, stripping down and replacing my hand with hers. She holds me just right, and it’s all I can do not to rut against her leg like some sex-starved idiot. “You want to know why I take long showers every night?” I ask. “Because I’m fucking my fist to thoughts of you. Because you’re asleep when I come home, and I’ve been thinking about you all day and I can’t help myself.”

She presses her body to mine, her tits grazing my chest, her belly brushing my stomach. Her hand has a chokehold on my dick as she jacks me, and it feels so good I’m about to lose it.

“If you want me so much, then why don’t you wake me up?” she asks.

I could placate her with a lie and tell her I know she needs her sleep. But the one thing going right in my life currently is my love for Maggie, and I’m not going to fuck with that any more than I probably already have. So, I tell her the truth. “Because I’m terrified. Not of sex—I know that’s safe. I’ve read the books. I know we can do whatever feels good as long as it feels good and doesn’t involve any major acrobatics. But Maggie, I watched you stand in my doorway and was scared shitless that the floor was going to give way underneath you. I’ve never been that scared in all my life. You needed me. Both of you needed me,” I say, running my hand over her belly, “but I couldn’t get to you. I was so afraid the floor would give out the same way the stairs did. That’s why I’m treating you like you’re made of glass. It doesn’t make sense, I know, but sometimes when I look at you, that moment flashes through my mind and I just get paralyzed. I was so fucking scared,” I repeat, burying my face in her neck and not caring that my eyes are leaking.

“I was scared, too. I was frozen solid for a second,” she admits. “But we’re fine now. Mickey was there and he did what you would have done. We’re okay, I promise. But if you keep treating me like I’m going to break, we won’t be. I need your affection. I hate the way that sounds, but it’s true. I need your touch. I know you’re stretched so thin with school and hockey and the warehouse, and I shouldn’t pile one more thing on, but I need you, JT.”

Something in her tone tells me there’s more she wants to say. She doesn’t just need my physically. She doesn’t just need me to take care of her body. “What else is going on?” I ask.

Maggie blushes and turns her head to the side. Our foreplay momentarily forgotten, I tip her chin so she’s looking at me. “Tell me.”

“It’s just hard, that’s all. I don’t look the way I used to. I don’t feel the way I used to. My body isn’t my own anymore and it makes me feel insecure. I’m probably paranoid, but I swear I get looks when I’m walking to class or sitting in the union. It’s like I can feel the judgement radiating off people I don’t even know. I shouldn’t let that bother me. Fuck them if they want to gossip, but it just makes me feel out of place, you know? Then, when you wouldn’t touch me, it felt like a confirmation, I guess.”

My lips find hers again and I kiss my way down her throat. “Guess I’m gonna have to prove you wrong, huh? Take you so good it drives all those insecurities right out of your head. Is that what you need, Maggie?” I ask, tugging at the shirt I’m never getting back. She lifts her arms and I pull the fabric off her body, revealing the perfection underneath. “I’m not sure where to start,” I say honestly. “I could kiss your tits because they’re begging for it. I could put my face between your legs because I miss the way you taste. I could fuck you hard so you remember just how much I want you. What do you think, beautiful girl? Which one should I pick?” My hands are tracing the exaggerated curves of her body, and my cock is a steel post that’s dripping pre-cum.

“Yes,” she answers, arching her back and presenting her body to me.

I chuckle. “It’s a multiple-choice question, Maggie. You’ve gotta pick one.”

“All of the above,” she tells me, and even though that technically wasn’t one of her options, it’s the best answer I’ve ever heard.

My mouth moves to her breasts because they’re so damn kissable. And lickable. And fuck me , why did I think keeping my girlfriend on a sexless pedestal was a good idea? Suddenly, my body doesn’t need sleep, it just needs Maggie. I’m starving for her, and I hate myself for denying either one of us. I hate that my anxiety made her feel unwanted, but I let go of all that and focus on the task at hand: making my girlfriend so delirious with pleasure that she forgives me for being a dumbass.

Shimmying down the bed a little, I press a kiss to her rounded belly. I love this little nugget more than I ever thought possible. I think I’ve been so worried about letting Maggie and the baby down that I forgot the most important thing is being here, being present.

And right now, I am absolutely here in the moment. The naked moment.

I settle myself between her legs. She’s fucking glistening. “Goddamn, it looks like you missed me.”

In response to my question, she grips the back of my head and presses it firmly to the pretty lips I was just admiring. I might be an idiot sometimes, but I can take a cue. I start to worship her with broad strokes of my tongue, lapping at her greedily and lazily like we have all night even though classes start in a few hours. Her hands hold me steady, but it’s not like I plan on going anywhere until I make her thighs shake and body hum with pleasure. My tongue works her clit, and my fingers play with her folds. She’s rocking herself up onto my face and I can’t get enough. In this position, my bare cock is getting fucked into the mattress and I’m seconds away from losing it when I hear her cry out my name.

It’s all I can do to hold my orgasm back.

I kiss her pussy as she comes down from her high, her hands still holding onto my head. She tastes so damn good that I can’t help but lick her, driving into her with my tongue and setting off a series of aftershocks that have her crying out again.

“Oh, my god,” she breathes. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but the hiatus might have been worth it.”

She releases her hold on me, and I rise up on my forearms and smile at her. “I’m just getting started. You know that, right? Or are you good? Ready for bed? Feeling sleepy?” I tease.

“Not tired at all,” she says, shaking her head. The movement makes her tits sway and I’m tempted to pay them some more attention, but my cock is desperate to be inside her, and I don’t want to wait another second.

I scoot off the bed and stand at the foot, then I hook my hands around her knees and slide her to the edge. I reach around her and grab some pillows and place them underneath her ass so we line up perfectly. “You good?” I ask, looking down at her spread out before me like some angel waiting to be desecrated. If she knew all the filthy things I want to do to her, she’d probably blush. And then start making a list. Maggie’s mind is almost as dirty as mine.

“I’m good,” she answers with a smile. “But I’ll be better when you’re deep inside me.”

Damn, she’s perfect.

“On it, Cinderella,” I say, parting her folds and pressing the tip of my cock to her entrance. “I’m serious, though. If you’ve been on your back too long, we can?—”

“Fuck. Me. Now,” she commands, her words breathy and desperate. What can I do but obey?

I drive into her, one hand on her hip and the other splayed on her belly. Her body is as greedy for me as mine is for hers and soon the room fills with the sounds of muttered curses and the rhythmic cadence of flesh-on-flesh.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I say, pulling back a second just to lean in and fill her up again.

Her mouth widens into an “o” shape, and her tits bounce, so I do it again.

And again.

And once more as my balls draw up tight and my body vibrates with the need to let go and empty every ounce of energy into the sweet, tight channel that’s taking me so fucking good.

Maggie reaches her hand down to touch her clit and the sight has me mesmerized. Fuck. Has she been doing this for two weeks now while I hid out like a coward ?

“Jesus, that’s so hot,” I say, the words spilling from my lips as I push into her once

more. “Watching you like that is gonna make come, Maggie. I’m gonna come so hard.”

Her hand stills as her head falls back and body pulses with her release. I can’t hold back another second, so I let go inside her, loving the feel of her skin on mine.

My family has a long sordid history of addiction, so I’ve been careful to avoid the pitfalls they’ve succumbed to. I never drink more than two beers in a night. I don’t smoke anything except what wafts through the vent from Ollie’s room.

But the feeling I get when Maggie lets go for me? I need it. I crave it. I’ll do anything to get more of it.

Maggie’s phone wakes me out of a dead sleep. It’s not her alarm. That won’t buzz for another hour, same time as mine.

The noise that rouses us both from sleep at seven in the morning is an obnoxious dance beat that heralds a call from Vivian. I’m tempted to reach for her phone and tell Viv that her bestie is sleeping, but Maggie’s obviously awake because she answers the call before I can grab the phone.

They’re chattering away, so I stretch and step out of bed to take a piss, grab that shower I skipped last night, and get the day started. Ten minutes later, I’m back in our room planning on bartering with my girlfriend. I feel like it’s a safe bet that she’ll accept sexual favors in exchange for helping me study for my Pre-Calc test.

But the look on Maggie’s face tells me our study session will have to wait. She looks like she’s going to cry again or punch something. She’s standing in front of our closet in leggings that don’t quite cover her very noticeable bump and a bra that barely contains those tits I love so much .

“Do you need a muffin?” I ask, because it’s the second thing my brain came up with. The first was ‘ Take off your pants , get back on the bed, spread those pretty legs, and let me fuck you’ . I’m definitely on board with that thought, but perhaps now is not the time to suggest sex. Food is always a good idea, though. I bought her a couple muffins from the bakery the other day and I think there’s still one in the fridge.

“No. No, I don’t need a muffin. I need one of your hoodies, and I can’t find one,” she says, her lip doing that quivery I’m-not-going-to-cry thing.

“Are you and Viv twinning today?” I ask, digging around for the worn green hoodie from my high school days.

“Viv and I will never twin again.”

I look up to see Maggie standing in front of me, gesturing to her belly. “Your baby is a giant who grew overnight and now all my shirts are too tight, so I’m stealing your hoodies because they’re bigger than mine and you can’t complain because you and your super dick are the reason nothing fits me.”

I strip off the sweatshirt I’m wearing because it’s my only clean one, and I toss it on the bed then wrap her up in a hug. “It’s yours. And our baby is perfect. And you’re amazing and I love you.” I kiss her soundly, not ready to let her go just yet. Life is crazy and hard and unpredictable sometimes, but it’s also pretty incredible.

“I love you, too,” she says. “And yes, please to the muffin.”

It’s a good morning: Maggie made Pre-Calc make sense, I made her French toast, and there was still enough time leftover for me to send her off to class in a very good mood. Oral sex will have that effect. Hell, going down on her always puts me in a good mood. It also nearly made me late for class, but I’m not complaining. Spending extra time with my girl was worth it. At the end of every day, I just need Maggie and the nugget to be okay. Everything else will fall into place.

That’s always been my approach to life, and it hasn’t changed. But I’m beginning to see that before things can fall into place, they need a little shove. That’s what has me trekking across campus in the bitter fucking cold for an impromptu team meeting.

I didn’t request a freaking team meeting. I don’t really need one. I just messaged the group chat and well, here we are.

JT : Anyone free to meet at Drip at 2? I need some advice.

Ollie : Say no more.

Ollie : Pregnant sex is totally safe, as long as she’s feeling good and wants the D. Well, not the D. Your D. You know what? I listen and I don’t judge. If your girl wants to outsource dick, it’s none of my business.

JT : The fuck are you even talking about?

Ollie : I’m sending you diagrams for different positions that she might be more comfortable in. I’m not pregnant but I fucking love Lotus. Highly recommend.

JT : Jesus. Stop blowing up my phone with sex directions. I know how to fuck.

Deano : Clearly…

Deano : Mickey just hit me.

Deano : Dude, why’d you hit me?

Rosco : Little Mama doing okay? Baby Baylor good? I’ll be there at 2.

JT : Yeah, they’re good.

Santos : Will 2:30 work?

Van : Same. Pete and I are carpooling. He just loves the minivan life, what can I say?

Santos : That your ass isn’t cleared to drive so I’ve got chauffer you around in style?

Van : Pretty much. Everything cool, Norris? If you need us before 2:30, just shout.

Santos : Mickey, stop hitting Deano.

Santos : Deano, quit being an ass.

Van : Aren’t you glad you came to us for advice?

Ollie : Of course, he is. Dude’s lucky to have us.

Mickey : Hey, instead of meeting at Drip, you guys should come to our new place. It’s sweet. There are four walls in the shitter. We basically live in Fancy Town.

Ollie : Genius idea, Mick! I’ll make snacks.

After the house literally fell apart, we all had to relocate. Santos’s mom lives close by, so even though there’s a spot for him at the honors house, he’s living at home and helping out while she undergoes chemo. She’s battled cancer before and won, but I know the big guy is worried and he’s glad to have an excuse to move back in and do his part. Van’s splitting his time between Pete’s and Josie’s, which means his ass is being carted around in a mom-mobile one hundred percent of the time. He’s anxious to get back to driving and get his brace off, and I can’t blame him. Rosco was too smart to ever live at the hockey house, so he didn’t need to relocate.

But Mickey, Deano, Will, and Ollie did. Finding housing mid-year is tricky, and we all thought they’d be placed back at the dorms, which would be less than ideal not only for my four teammates, but also for the poor freshmen they’d get paired with. Somehow, there was a four-person suite available at the Playhouse. It’s where all the theater kids live, and I guess they don’t mind that their house sounds like a strip club.

Deano’s girl, Annabelle, is a drama major, so she hooked them up. I figure they either have incredible luck, or there’s a catch. Mickey’s been bugging me to come over, but I haven’t had the time, so as much as I hate to admit it, this team meeting was probably a good idea.

The Playhouse is on the corner of the street two blocks down from our old place. I’m heading in that direction when I spot Rosco in the crosswalk.

“Hey, man. You ready to get advice from these fools?” he asks, smiling. Rosco’s a good guy, but he had a rough semester last fall. He’s in a much better mood these days, all thanks to his new girlfriend. If this were last year or even six months ago, I’d probably be rolling my eyes at the idea that love could really change your perspective that much.

But I’m a believer now.

Rubbing the back of my neck with my palm, I crack a smile in return. “Why do I think all of Ollie’s suggestions are going to have to do with sex?”

“Because you know him,” Rosco says, laughing. “Seriously, though, everything’s okay?”

It’s a loaded question because everything is not okay. I could list my worries in no particular order: Coach is barely talking to me, I’m not sure how the hell I’m supporting a family in a couple months, my asshole cousin just got out of prison and thinks I owe him a debt, oh, and we’ve got a national championship to win…

I need advice about a lot of things, but I’m not read to dump all that on my friends. It’ll work out. That’s what I keep telling myself.

“Holy shit, I should have been a theater major,” I say, as I take in the exterior of the house. It’s nicer out here than the inside of the hockey house has ever been.

Rosco and I turn to see Van making his way across the street. Pete’s next to him, carrying crutches. I can’t lie. It sucks to see Van at anything less than full strength, but he looks a hell of a lot better than he did when I dropped him on Josie’s doorstep before break. I guess I can chalk that up to love, too. And reconstructive knee surgery.

“You think if I start reciting Shakespeare, they’ll let me live here?” he jokes .

“It’s worth a shot,” Rosco says. “How the hell did those four knuckleheads score a place like this?”

Pete huffs out a laugh. “To be fair, we haven’t seen the inside yet.”

Two minutes later, we’re taking the elevator down to their suite. The elevator .

“I take that back,” Pete says. “This has to be one of the nicest places on campus. I thought the honors house was tricked out, but it’s got nothing on The Playhouse.”

The elevator doors open and Mickey’s there to greet us, grinning ear-to-ear. “Is this the fucking tits or what?”

“The fucking tits,” Deano answers, even though he lives here, and the question was not directed at him.

We’re herded inside the suite. Ollie’s lounging on a leather sofa, playing a video game while Will sits on a barstool at the counter setting out snacks. The carpet is thick, and the rest of the floor looks like hardwood. The furniture is the real kind you’d buy at a store and have delivered, not the plywood and foam stuff you get in most campus housing. Their TV takes up most of the south-facing wall, and in addition to the sofa, there’s a loveseat and a pair of recliners.

Maybe I missed my calling. The transition from goalie to actor can’t be that hard, right?

“No,” Rosco says, still standing by the door and shaking his head.

“No?” Deano asks. “No, you don’t want chips and guac? Or no, you don’t want pretzel nuggies? They’re whole wheat. Will’s mom buys them by the case.”

Rosco rolls his eyes and I practically read his mind. “No, you don’t live here. This is fake. You’ve set up this whole elaborate scene to prank us. Well-played,” he says, clapping.

“Fuck you,” Ollie says, not bothering to look up from his game. “The green hue of jealousy is not in your color palette, Rosco. And why would you begrudge us an apartment with all the comforts of home? ”

“Home?” Santos quips. “That TV is easily the size of my little brother’s bedroom. How in the hell did you score this place two days before the semester started?”

“We told you,” Will says around a mouthful of pretzel. “Anabelle hooked us up. She knew this space was available and put in a good word for us. I might have also lied and said I was considering a minor in lighting design.”

“I don’t think that’s an actual thing you can minor in,” Pete offers.

“Well, we live here, so…I guess you’re wrong,” Ollie bounds of the couch and into the kitchen. We fill up our plates —actual plates because they have a real dishwasher that works and isn’t a hollowed-out shell where they store their cereal— and settle into the living room.

“Damn,” Van says, shaking his head. “You even have mini fridges out here so you don’t have to get up and refill your drink? This is the life.” He reaches out to open the little fridge and Mickey leaps into action, standing guard in front of the tiny appliance before Van even has a chance to open it.

“I can’t have a drink?” Van asks.

“The drinks are in the other fridge. The white one. This one isn’t ours. It belongs to our roommate, Vlad.”

“Vlad?” Rosco asks, but everyone ignores him.

“And he doesn’t share his drinks?” Van asks, frowning. Everything was community property back at the hockey house, so I get why he’s confused. But it’s not out of bounds for this guy to keep his own beverages for himself.

Mickey shrugs. “I don’t think he has any sports drinks or water. It’s pretty much just for blood.”

“ The fuck ?” Rosco says, his hand on the doorknob.

Van’s brow is furrowed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you just say?—"

Mickey lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think it’s just chicken liver from the deli downtown, but I don’t know. I mean, he’s a vampire, so his meal choices are not my business.”

“And I repeat… the fuck ?” Rosco’s still standing at the door, and I’m about two seconds from cracking up. Who needs TV when real life is this ridiculous?

“You live with a vampire named Vlad?” Santos asks, his bushy brows receding into his hairline.

“I’m beginning to understand how you scored this place,” Rosco says, nodding.

Deano ignores him and turns to Pete. “I think his given name is Cameron, but don’t call him that. Also, keep the volume down. He sleeps during the day. You know, ‘cause he’s a vampire.”

“A fake vampire,” Rosco adds.

Ollie frowns. “Uh, showing some fucking respect, Roscowitz.”

Rosco holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, it seems like false advertising. He’s a vampire, but he won’t fully commit.”

Deano shakes his head. “It’s no different than being a vegetarian.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. “It’s actually the very definition of different.”

But Deano’s stubborn. “No, because if a vegetarian eats a black bean burger, then it’s kinda the same. Right? Back me up here, Will.”

Will makes a face because he knows Dean Strathmyer is full of shit. “You know what, we don’t have to put labels on it, ok?”

“Actually, we do,” Mickey pipes up, pointing to the fridge. “That’s why we got the extra fridge. When containers aren’t labeled, well…let’s just say that was the second worst bowl of tomato soup I’ve ever had. So, yeah. You wanna use this fridge. With the wolf sticker on it. This is our fridge. The one with the bat sticker belongs to Vlad. ”

We’re all quiet for a second, and I’m wondering if Rosco’s going to walk out, but he just grabs a soda from the fridge with the wolf sticker and takes a seat.

“So, Norris,” Santos says, “something’s up. How can we help?”

Ollie pops up. “Hang on. I printed out some diagrams. Be right back.”

As he heads to his room, I shoot him a double middle finger salute. Then I blow out a breath and wonder how I’m going to ask for help. It’s not something I’m used to.

“Dude, you said everything was good yesterday. I saw the ultrasound pic?—”

Mickey’s getting worried, and that’s not my intention, so I shake my head. “Everything is good,” I say, pulling up the pic on my phone. It’s grainy as hell, but I can’t stop looking at it.

“Tell me you did not do a gender reveal,” Ollie says, walking back in and handing over a veritable workbook of sex positions. “Because first off, ew. And second, you didn’t invite us? And what’s the crisis? Because if you threw some sort of hissy fit because you had your heart set on a boy and pinata spewed pink glitter everywhere, then we’re gonna fight.”

My middle fingers go right back up. “We’re not even finding out the gender. We like surprises,” I say.

“Obviously,” Deano says, and Mickey doesn’t miss a beat before cuffing him in the back of the head.

“And I know it’s cliché as hell, but I don’t care about anything except making sure Maggie and the baby are healthy.” I can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across my face.

Rosco studies me. “But if everything’s good on that front, why call in the troops for help?”

“Is this about Coach?” Van asks, and I know he’s in a tough position. Because he’s no longer playing, he’s become like an extra coach and if all goes as planned, he’ll join the staff officially next year. So, the fact that Coach and I barely exchange words has to be strange for him. It’s strange for me, too.

I shrug. “He’ll come around. Or he won’t. But he and Maggie are having lunch next week, so that’s good.”

“So…” Santos prompts.

I realize I can’t stall any longer. “Maggie’s having kind of a tough time right now. I guess word is getting around campus that she’s pregnant and?—”

“No shit. It’s all over WolfChat. There’s a whole thread devoted to it,” Deano volunteers, pointing to his phone.

“Jesus. No wonder she feels like everybody’s talking about her. They probably are. Our schedules don’t mesh all that often, or else I’d walk with her to and from each class just to shut up the freaking busybodies.”

Santos has his laptop open already and he’s putting together a spreadsheet. “Give me Maggie’s schedule and I’ll make sure one of us is there to walk along with her and keep the gossips at bay.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I just think she’s feeling pretty isolated. I mean, she has Viv, of course, but she’s traveling for competitions now, so she’s not around as much. And between our crazy schedule and my shifts at the warehouse, I can’t be around as much as I’d like.”

Ollie studies me for a minute, but before he can say anything, Rosco starts talking. “She should hang out with our girls,” he says, looking at Will, Dean, and Van. “They just got together last night.”

“Yeah,” Van agrees. “But they went to one of those rage rooms where you break shit, so it’s probably for the best that the mom-to-be didn’t get an invite. I’ll message Josie and see what they’re up to next.”

I just can’t see Josie the librarian at a rage room. “Whose idea was that?” I ask.

Pete grimaces. “Claire Fowler’s. ”

I’m trying to place the name when Rosco fills me in. “She’s friends with Holland and Josie. She had a, uh…breakup recently,” he says on a cough, “then she went on the world’s worst date. So, she was in the mood to fuck shit up and the girls were happy to help.”

Based on Pete’s reddening face, I feel like there’s more to the story, but I’ve got to head to the athletic center to get a workout in, so I don’t have time to catch up. “Thanks. She’d probably love to hang out with them, as long as there aren’t projectiles flying through the air and no one’s wielding a baseball bat. Actually, if they’re going shopping anytime soon, that’d be perfect.” My sappy grin is back as I say, “She’s stealing all my hoodies because hers are too tight now. And her stretchy leggings aren’t quite stretchy enough. I need to do laundry later tonight just so we both have clean stuff tomorrow.”

“Did you pick up your new gear yet?” Will asks, and I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Each semester, we get a couple new tees, hoodies, and sweats from the athletic department, and I haven’t gotten mine yet. I’ve been too busy to remember.

“You’re a genius,” I tell him.

“You really are a genius, Will,” Santos agrees. “Who else hasn’t picked up their stuff yet?” A couple hands go up and Santos taps out a text on his phone.

I’m pulling a pan out of the oven when Maggie walks in the door. It’s nine p.m. and she looks exhausted. Fucking beautiful, but dead on her feet. I actually left the training facility with the rest of the guys tonight, and I’m glad. Practice ended an hour ago and that gave me enough time to start some laundry, change the sheets, run the vacuum, and throw a pan of brownies in the oven. She had to do a glucose test at our appointment yesterday and I was sure we’d be walking out of there with strict instructions to cut back on sugar, but nope. My girl passed with flying colors. So, we’re having brownies for dinner. With a side of chicken breast and broccoli.

Her face lights up in a smile when she sees me and that’s enough to fuel me through the next few crazy, hectic months.

“You’re not working tonight?” she asks, toeing her shoes off and hanging her bag on its hook.

I shake my head. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

She looks around the apartment and then peers into the kitchen. “You are the best boyfriend,” she declares, reaching up for a kiss.

“You ever going to upgrade my title?” I ask in between kisses. Am I fishing? Yes. There’s no doubt Maggie and I are committed to each other, to our family, but I wasn’t kidding at Christmas when I told her I wanted to make it official.

She taps her chin. “Those brownies are definitely increasing your chances of getting a ring on this finger,” she teases. “Your chances will also improve drastically when I no longer look like I’m smuggling a beach ball.” She rubs her rounded belly and smiles. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to be sharing clothes for a while. Until I bust out of those, too.”

I place my hand over hers, loving the slow gentle way she glides our palms over her stomach. “No sharing necessary,” I tell her. “Go look on the bed.”

Maggie walks into our room and I follow, unable to stop myself from watching as she blinks at the row of hoodies lining our bed. “How many did you get?”

“Ten,” I answer. “Plus half a dozen t-shirts and a couple pairs of joggers.”

She grabs a hoodie from the stack and holds it up so that it drapes over her body. “These are perfect. And they’re so soft. Did you raid the bookstore? This must have cost a fortune.”

I shake my head. “As hockey players, we get team merch every semester. A couple other guys hadn’t picked theirs up yet, and since they were all razzing me for wearing a tee on a cold day, they donated to the cause.”

“Wait,” she spins the shirts around and I know what she’s looking for.

“They all say Norris,” I tell her.

“Oh, good. This is super sweet, but if I started walking around campus with multiple hockey players’ names on my back, the rumor mill would really have something to talk about.”

“Nope. No nasty rumors on my watch. I mean it, Maggie. If people are running their mouths and it’s bothering you, I will shut that shit down.”

“A funny thing happened today. Josie sought me out in the library today and invited me to movie night with the other girlfriends tomorrow.” Maggie’s sorting through the bounty now, her finger tracing the logo on a silver-gray sweatshirt. “And then your teammates really gave me the shirts off their backs.”

I nod. “Well, not literally off their backs, but yeah. And I bet Josie invited you because she likes you and wants to hang out. You’re family. And we take care of our own,” I tell Maggie, because even though I think of myself as a lone wolf sometimes, my team is making it clear that I belong. “Just so you know, if the guys were here now, Pete would be howling like a wolf.”

“I’m kinda glad your teammates aren’t in our bedroom,” she says, looping her fingers into the waistband of my basketball shorts. “I mean, gifting these shirts was so nice, and I’m very grateful. I’ll have to bake them cookies or something. But I want to show my appreciation to you, too, and I don’t want an audience for that.”

My shorts fall to the floor in record time. I’m all in for whatever Maggie has in mind.