Prologue

Jenner

The distant rattling sound coming from the vicinity of our master bathroom dragged me from a deep sleep.

Groggy, I rolled over in bed, not ready to face the day. Reaching across the mattress, I expected to curl my arm around Evie and bring her warm body flush with mine. When my hand came up empty, it hit me that the noises in the bathroom must be her, and I sat bolt upright.

With my heart racing, I leapt out of bed, rushing to the bathroom door, not bothering to knock before entering.

I could only view her from the waist down, where she knelt on the ground, her upper half digging through the cabinet beneath the sink. There was a frantic energy in the room that didn't help to ease my panic.

"Evie?" I asked cautiously. We'd been through so much in the past few years, and I'd been forced to watch the woman I loved crumble one too many times.

"I know I have some stashed in here somewhere." Even though she spoke under her breath to herself, I could hear the high-pitched panic in her voice.

"Baby?" I stepped closer. "What are you looking for?"

Evie froze. "Go back to bed, Jenner. I'm fine."

Yeah, she sure as hell didn't look fine. Truth be told, she hadn't been "fine" in a very long time.

Rubbing a hand along my jaw, I drew nearer, doubling down. "Honey, let me help you. Just tell me what you're searching for."

Slowly, violet, red-rimmed eyes peeked over the edge of the cabinet door, and my heart twisted inside my chest. She didn't have to say the words to confirm what I already knew.

Almost as if she were ashamed, she broke my gaze, whispering, "Tampons. I threw them all out but thought maybe I'd missed some. I'd been so sure this time—" Her lower lip trembled, the implication of yet another failed attempt hitting her with full force.

I was on my knees in a flash, pulling her to my chest.

She finally shattered, her loud sobs echoing throughout the bathroom. Her chest heaved, and she choked out, "I'm s-so sorr-ry."

Evie's heart was breaking because our latest round of IVF had been a failure, but mine was breaking for her. I would find a way to live without us having a baby—my wife was all I would ever need—but for Evie, it had become a compulsion. Her focus had narrowed to achieving that singular goal of getting pregnant, regardless of the physical or emotional toll it took on her, on our marriage.

Stroking her hair, I held her tighter. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Her sad words were muffled against my chest. "This isn't how this was supposed to go."

Fuck. There was no amount of money that could give my wife what she wanted most in this world. And I had more of it to spare than most. I would give it all up—the fame, the fortune, the ability to play a child's game for a living—if it meant I could end this living nightmare for us both.

The worst part was not knowing why. We'd been through the testing, but all the results came back negative. There was nothing physically wrong with either one of us. If only they'd found something. If the tests had revealed I had wonky sperm or Evie had some internal issue, the doctors could have developed a plan of action, using years of research to overcome our specific roadblocks. But unexplained infertility was a black hole of despair. Our bodies were simply failing us, and there was nothing we could do about it.

When she quieted enough that only the occasional sniffle remained, I eased Evie off the tiled bathroom floor. Keeping my arm around her waist, I led her to the walk-in shower, reaching my hand inside to turn on the hot water.

I kissed her temple. "You take a shower, and I'll run out to the 24-hour pharmacy to get what you need. Okay?"

She nodded, not bothering to look back at me as she shed her clothing and stepped inside.

I knew the second I was gone, she would fall apart again. It was a vicious cycle—one we'd been putting ourselves through for years—and I couldn't do it anymore.

I was done watching my wife suffer.

A tiny ding sounded as I passed through the pharmacy's sliding glass doors. I was a man on a mission, wasting no time in striding to the back of the store, where I knew the feminine hygiene products were shelved. After six years of marriage, there were no secrets between me and my wife. I knew her body as well as I knew my own, and I wasn't scared to walk into a store and buy a box—or three, in this case—of tampons.

But this morning was the first time it was painful to do so.

Standing in the aisle, I wondered what kind of sick fuck had thought it was a good idea to place the pregnancy tests right next to the period products. Didn't they have any sensitivity toward women struggling? Women like Evie? That seeing a brightly colored box featuring a smiling baby would rip their hearts out? Seemed like a cruel joke, if you asked me.

Eyeing the rows of tampons and pads, I determined that a man must be in charge of marketing these products to women. Most of them featured figures of sporty women, promoting some kind of female empowerment that just because they were on their period, it didn't have to slow them down. Had any of these fools ever encountered a woman on her period? I knew from experience that the last thing they wanted to do was work out. As soon as I got her situated, Evie would be curled up in bed for the following twenty-four hours minimum.

Sighing, knowing I couldn't waste any more time silently raging at strangers working at the tampon company, I grabbed three boxes of Evie's preferred brand in different absorbencies since she said she'd gotten rid of all of hers—she needed a full restock.

Stepping up to the checkout counter, I placed them down, grabbing an assortment of chocolate bars at the register on impulse.

The middle-aged woman working the counter rang me up. She peeked up at me when I set down the tampons, her smile growing when I added the candy.

"Must be some lucky lady to have you taking care of her like this," she mused, scanning each item and placing them into a bag.

If only she knew.

I forced a tight smile and nodded. "She's my whole world."

Her gaze dropped to my left hand, which was holding my credit card, my wedding band visible. "You take care of each other, you hear?"

Lord knows I'm trying.

Evie was tucked into bed, mindlessly watching trashy reality TV, but I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She was beautiful, the love of my life, but the light had dimmed from her unique violet eyes the longer we struggled to conceive—both naturally and with the help of medical interventions. What began as excitement over starting a family had quickly turned into dread of the constant treatments and the inevitable disappointment each time we were faced with failure.

She'd always put on a brave face—at least in public. Almost no one at the rink knew of our private struggles, and Evie kept a smile plastered on her face, playing the dutiful hockey wife at games and team events. Only my captain, Maddox Sterling, was privy to what went on behind closed doors, and only because I'd needed someone to talk to.

Evie had these online support groups filled with women dealing with infertility. She would hop on her phone or computer with anonymity to talk with complete strangers versus talking to me. So, I'd been forced to confide in my closest friend on my professional hockey team, the Indianapolis Speed, when the weight of my helplessness threatened to crush me.

Without family nearby, our only tangible support system came from my teammates and their significant others. But Evie was too ashamed to let anyone know that her body couldn't do the one thing it was designed to do—carry a baby.

"You know, I was thinking," she mused beside me. "I'm definitely going to try to lose some weight before our next round."

"No." The word came out sharp and fast, like a reflex.

Evie sighed. "I know you're always telling me you like me the way I am, but the doctors have told us since the beginning that my being overweight could be a potential hindrance."

My wife wasn't only beautiful; she had the most voluptuous curves. And damn, did she own it, which made her even sexier. Her soft body—featuring thick thighs, wide hips, belly rolls, and breasts so full they were nearly the size of my head—was the perfect complement to my hard planes of muscles, earned from years of working out to compete at the highest levels of professional sports.

Taking a deep breath, I braced for what I needed to say. "No, I meant I can't do another round."

There was a beat of silence, then came "You're giving up? I thought we both wanted this."

The rising pitch of her voice forced me to look at her after my admission. That was a mistake. The agony in her light, bluish-purple eyes was like a dagger to my heart. She blamed herself, and I could see she thought I blamed her too.

"Evie, listen." I reached for her, but she flinched away from my touch, scrambling out of bed to put space between us. "Baby, you know I will give you anything you ever ask for, but I think it's time to take a step back from the fertility treatments."

She sank her teeth into her lower lip as she fought back tears, and I hated myself for doing this to her.

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "Jenner, I need this. More than anything."

I slung my legs over the edge of the bed closest to where she stood. "I know. But this isn't the end of the road. There are other options. We can look into surrogacy or even adoption. We can still have a family."

Evie's body shook, and I prepared to have her collapse into a sobbing mess for the second time in a few hours' time, but when she screamed, "No!" I realized she was shaking with rage. "You don't get it! How can I watch another woman carry my baby? I can't. Please don't ask me to."

"I can't watch you suffer anymore, babe. It's fucking killing me."

"You don't think it's killing me? That every time we try, we come up with nothing, and no one can tell me why? That the dreams I had of filling this big house with tiny redheaded replicas of the man I love are slowly slipping away with each failed attempt?"

Closing my eyes, I strengthened my resolve. I was putting an end to this for her sake. There was only so much she could take before she shattered completely. I couldn't watch that happen, not when I had the power to stop it.

"Evie, I'm sorry. I just can't anymore."

When I opened my eyes, she was gone.

"Evie?" I called out, standing from my perch on the bed.

The rustling of fabric reached my ears, and I strode into our walk-in closet to find her on her knees, throwing clothes into a suitcase.

"What are you doing?" I asked, even though the answer was clear.

"I have to get out of here," she muttered, seemingly to herself, as she stood to grab more garments.

As much as I hated spending time away from her—especially during the hockey season when I traveled constantly to away games—maybe it was good for her to take a breather, to calm down. Perhaps if she had the time and space to think through what I'd said, she'd see that there was a way for us to move forward in our quest to create a family. We weren't out of options yet.

Checking my watch, I groaned. "I've gotta head to practice." Stepping closer, I dropped a kiss atop the blonde hair at the crown of her head. "I love you. Take all the time you need, okay?"

She hummed but didn't acknowledge me with a verbal response.

Grabbing my sneakers from a shelf inside the closet, I headed downstairs and hopped into my car, ready to work out my frustration on the ice.

But as I drove away, I had no idea that would be the last time I saw my wife.