Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

CAULDER

"Haines," Coach Melvin calls.

I look up from where I'm pulling my pants up. "Yes, Coach?"

"My office when you're dressed, please."

"Yes, Coach."

"What did you do now?" Creed teases.

I shrug. "Nothing."

"Probably just a charity thing or something," Ethan says.

Because I haven't done anything that would get me in trouble, I don't worry about it as I dress. There's a message on my phone from Lo, but I'll save that until I get in my car. I can't remember the last time I got out of a practice or a game when I didn't have a message from Lo. I think I'd be irrationally devastated if the day comes and there isn't one.

"Coming over after?" Creed asks as I shoulder my bag.

I nod. "Yep. Just going to start the laundry then I'll be over."

"Cool. I'll try not to let Ethan eat all the sausage."

"I like sausage more than he does," Ethan argues, nodding at me.

Creed rolls his eyes. I chuckle on my way out of the locker room, musing to myself that he's definitely wrong. I love sausage.

Coach's office door is ajar. I drop my bag outside and knock.

"Come in, Caulder," he calls.

I push the door open, and my stomach gives an uncomfortable twist. Our assistant coach is here too, which isn't a big deal, but the PR manager, Robert, is also here and that worries me. It shouldn't because I really haven't done anything that would require a PR conference.

"Shut the door and have a seat," Coach says.

I'm too nervous to ask what's going on so I just do what he says. Once I'm sitting across from him, Coach asks, "Do you have a Viraly account?"

It's a strange question. My face scrunches a little. "Yeah. I don't get on social media much though, so it's not active."

"When's the last time you were on Viraly?" Robert asks.

Viraly is one of my least favorite platforms. Not only because you can sit here and watch fifteen second videos for what feels like ten minutes, but you've really lost three hours, but because there's so much toxic shit on there.

"I don't know—a year? Maybe longer. Why?"

"Do you get on ShareIt?"

"Probably six months ago. Why? Has someone hacked my accounts?" I'm not sure how they'd know that unless someone has hacked my accounts and is posting a whole bunch of shit. I wince at the thought. I should probably just shut them down.

Our assistant coach, Elvyra, comes out from around Coach's desk, where she'd been leaning against the wall and hands me her phone. It's on a paused video with a sonogram on it. I look up at her with confusion. Was I supposed to know someone's pregnant?

"Watch it," she instructs. "Scroll down for more."

My confusion keeps my questions in, and I mutely push play. The sonogram scrolls out and a woman appears on the screen. She's young, brunette, with bright red lipstick and long, cakey lashes.

"I'm pregnant," she says and turns to the side to run her hand over the tiniest of bumps. "And this man—"a picture of me from some event pops up onto the screen—"is the father, but it's been impossible to get a hold of him." She turns to the screen. "Caulder Haines, if you see this, you have a baby on the way! Message me, daddy."

My stomach drops. The video plays again.

I flick the screen up so the previous video she posted appears. It plays immediately.

"Story time. November 10 th was the hockey game between the Philadelphia Hatters and the Buffalo Skidmoss. When Buffalo won, some of their team headed to this epic Philly club—Lyra on Ninth—and celebrated. How do I know this? Because I hooked up with Caulder Haines in the back! Now I'm pregnant—which happens when you don't wear a condom, fellas—and it's impossible to get ahold of him. Help me out, Viraly! Help me get in touch with Caulder Haines."

The next one.

"I want my baby to have his daddy! Don't you want to know your baby, Caulder Haines?"

On and on it goes for the past month or more. I feel sick. My body breaks out in chills as my stomach violently threatens to display everything I've eaten today on the floor in front of me. I can't take a breath. My hands shake.

Finally, I look up and meet Coach's eyes. "It's a lie. I don't know that woman."

"An anonymous hook—" Robert begins.

"No!" I insist. "I never went to that club! I've never seen, never mind touched, that woman. It's a lie."

Silence settles around the room.

Coach Melvin leans forward. "I need you to think about this, Caulder."

"There isn't anything to think about," I say, feeling myself spiraling down a very long tunnel. "I never leave the hotel after a game, win or lose. The only time I go out is here, at Sceptre, with the team."

"You left the hotel in Arizona a couple days ago," Coach Elvyra says.

I scowl at her. "To hang out with Laurent Duval, one of Arizona's wingmen. And I promise you, I didn't get him pregnant!" I snap. "We became friends at the All-Star Games after being forced to share a room. But again, I'm going to point out that it's not even possible to get him pregnant. I didn't do this. I don't know her. It's a lie. How did you even know I left the hotel in Arizona?"

God, I think I said far too much just now. They're going to know!

"I was out front when you walked by," Coach Elvyra explains. "You walked right by me when you climbed into the car."

I wince. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

She chuckles. "It's fine, Caulder. I know you'd have said hi had you seen me. You're a very polite man."

I try to give her a polite smile since I know she's trying to… make me feel better, I guess.

"The team accounts are being tagged all over the place as she continually puts out a cry to get in touch with you," Robert says. "We haven't responded and we've been removing tags all over the place. It's becoming a full-time job."

I hang my head, pressing it into my palms. I'm going to be sick. "I didn't touch her," I insist. "She's lying."

"I don't mean this to sound disbelieving, but she's very clearly pregnant," Robert points out.

"I don't mean this to sound like an asshole, but it could very well have been you since you also have the means to knock a girl up," I hiss. "I. Wasn't. There."

Robert presses his lips together and I can't help but wonder—does this fall under ‘all attention is good attention,' the shit he usually spews? I can't imagine it is since he just said they've been untagging the team.

"I suggest calling your agent and considering getting a lawyer. Especially if this isn't yours," Robert says.

I glare at Robert, remembering the shit he tried to pull with Creed, Ethan, and Jakub when that whole shit went down. It's clear he doesn't believe me. I hate him.

"Keep your head down until we have a plan of action," Coach says more calmly. He gives Robert a hard look. "Do not disappear; that's not what I'm suggesting. But now that this has gotten the attention this girl is looking for, I imagine paparazzi will show up soon."

I want to cry. Instead, I nod numbly.

"You have our support," Coach Elvyra promises. "I didn't believe for a second this was true. It's not your character."

Coach Melvin nods, offering me a smile. "Get in touch with your agent. He's expecting your call. We'll come up with a plan."

I step into the hall and lean against the cold, concrete block wall. A shudder runs through my entire body. This is what I get for literally doing nothing. I've lived my entire life in a careful fucking bubble and still I get this shit.

Picking up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I call my agent.

"Caulder," Rigo answers.

"It wasn't me," I say in greeting. "I swear to you, Rigo, I didn't touch her. She's lying. I never even left the hotel."

"I know."

I pause. Even my feet stop moving. "You do?"

He chuckles. "I've known you for seven years, Caulder. I've watched you longer while I was considering you for Pride Sports. I still have eyes on you because you're my client. This isn't something you'd do."

Relief washes through me to have his unwavering belief. "What do I do?"

"Unfortunately, there isn't anything we can truly do until the child is born and a paternity test is performed."

The relief is short lived, apparently. "When is that?"

"Summer."

I wince. "I can't live the next three months with this hanging over my head!"

"Five months," Rigo corrects. "She's due in August."

Okay, now I just want to sob.

"This is what we're going to do—you're not going to respond. Do not engage. Do not speak to anyone about it. We're going to get a lawyer and seek some council on how we respond until the child is born."

"Can I delete my social media accounts?" I ask.

"You can."

I nod, though that doesn't make me feel better. "I've already suggested that the team blocks her account so she can't continue to tag them, though that doesn't do much good for everyone else tagging the team."

"There's no way to prove that it wasn't me before five months?" I ask.

"I've already been in touch with both the hotel and the club. If this had come up within thirty days of the dates you were there, we could have visual evidence. The club doesn't keep more than two weeks before recycling the space on the hard drive, but the hotel is trying to recover for us," Rigo says. "I'm afraid that this is going to be a waiting game for a while. Keep your head down and do not talk about it with anyone. Don't answer questions. Don't even glare. Just ignore it."

My gut clenches. "Okay."

"Go about life as normal. If the paparazzi get bad, I have the name for a security detail."

And now I have a sour taste in my mouth. I hate this. I hate everything about it!

"Okay."

"It's going to be fine."

We get off the phone and I'm left staring at the back door. Pushing it open a few inches, I peek outside. I don't see anyone. No cameras. No random people waiting. There's an arena security guard at the far end of the parking lot.

Taking a breath, I head for my car. I make it without incident. As soon as I'm inside, I rest my head on the steering wheel, start the car, and dial Lo.

"Are you okay?" he asks as soon as he picks up.

"No," I answer, squeezing my eyes closed. "I'm going to be sick."

"We know the truth," he says. "It's going to be okay."

"But the world thinks I'm a sleaze ball. And there's nothing I can do about it for five fucking months until she brings that thing into the world!"

Lo chuckles. "People don't like to have their babies called things, babe."

"Right now, I can't bring myself to care. She's trying to ruin my life."

"She's trying to get your money," he corrects.

"I'd give her money to go away," I mutter.

"No, you won't. You hear me? Do not do that. She doesn't get a penny. Take a breath, babe. Breathe for me."

I spend the next several minutes doing nothing but breathing and listening to Lo's quiet, sexy voice surround me.

"Where are you?"

"In my car."

"Heading home from practice?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Can you make it home safely or do you need to call Creed?"

A smile touches my lips. "I can drive. I just… I needed to hear your voice, I guess."

"I always need to hear yours. Stay on the phone with me."

Picking my head up, I put the car in drive. We talk about nothing for the ride home and I pull right into my garage. There aren't any suspicious people around with cameras or even their phones pointed in my direction.

I know I said I'd go to Creed's once I put my laundry in, but I feel so heavy right now. My feet drag as I head to my room and drop onto my bed, curling up.

"Turn on your video, Caulder."

"No," I whine.

"Yes. Let me look at you."

I feel pouty and scowly at the same time when I pull my phone away and hit the video button. The screen remains blue with a little circle spinning, then Lo's face appears.

"There you are, my sweet virgin boy," he murmurs as he fights a smile.

I roll my eyes. "The irony of this situation is not lost on me," I deadpan.

Lo chuckles. "It's going to be okay, Caulder. I promise."

Sighing, I close my eyes. "You promise me a lot of things, Lo."

"That kid isn't yours. We both know that without a doubt. I've had all your firsts and I'm keeping them. Fuck this girl if she thinks she can take that away."

My eyes open and I stare at him on the screen. The possessive tone is definitely new, but damn does it skate down my spine with pleasure.

"I'm keeping your firsts. All of them. All the ones we're going to have and every single one I already do. I promise everything will be fine. It's going to suck for a bit, but it will be fine. And I'm right here."

I sigh and close my eyes again. "I wish you were here," I whisper.

"Me too, Caulder. Soon. I swear."

My eyes close again, but the weight on me remains. It hangs over my head like a shadow. It's sitting on my chest like an elephant. I hate everything about this.

But I don't know how to make it go away.

More than anything, I wish Lo were here. Wrapped around me. Holding me tight. Shutting out the world so all I knew was him.

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake—getting involved with someone far away. No, more than that. The entire weekend. Because now I know what I'm missing. Now I know what it's like to be held and kissed and made to feel important to someone.

And now it's right there, yet I can't reach it. I'm lonelier now than I have ever been.