Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Alex

Elliot isn't convinced.

I know it may be cocky of me to assume she would be after only one night with me, but I never claimed to be anything but the whole definition of the word. I have to be. I'm one person between two pipes who gets pelted with pucks, night after night. I've been hit in the groin more than I care to admit, and I'm not ashamed to say I was a bit worried I might not be able to have kids. Current situation proves that to be only an intrusive thought, for sure. Anyway, I have to be confident in myself, my skill, and my mental game. It's the only reason I was able to do as well as I did in Nashville. And now, how I'll help the Bears win the Cup.

But I'm nowhere near as confident as I want to be when it comes to Elliot.

Which doesn't sit well with me at all. I don't like the way it makes me question myself and even what I could have done differently. I'd rather not think she'll just placate me to the end so she doesn't have to give me her heart. That heart is mine.

I thought of calling my mom, but I don't want to tell her about the baby until I know what's going on with Elliot. She didn't approve my plan, but Elliot didn't fight it either. That could have been my fault, though. I kissed her and then ravished her.

Not that I feel any remorse.

I enjoyed every second.

I'm still stretching as my teammates leave the ice after a long, grueling practice. Tomorrow starts the second round of play-offs and we don't have home ice, so I'll be flying out tomorrow for Texas. I wasn't excited about leaving Elliot until I remembered she'd be going with us. She's covering all the games, and the players, for our social media sites, which means she has to be there.

With us.

With me.

Even with being in goal and having my teammates shoot pucks at me left and right, I couldn't help but watch her move down the bench today, talking to the guys and taking video. She wore a pair of dress slacks and an oversized Bears jersey that no one would second-guess on her. Now that I know, now that I've felt her skin under my hands, I can see the bump. How the fabric pulls against her expanded torso as she moves in certain ways.

My teammates and the staff are none the wiser as she flutters about, looking like the gorgeous angel of my dreams. It's one of the things I want to know when I see her this afternoon—when will we go public? I want the world to know. I want to make a post on every social media outlet there is, though I'm sure she hasn't told her grandfather. I hope she'll allow me to be there for support.

I have a feeling I might have a death wish coming my way, but Dan won't act on it. He needs me. The Bears almost lost the first series, going to game seven and only winning with a soft goal. The way the goalie played won't hold up against Texas. They need next level; they need me, and I'm sure of that.

I stretch out my hips and groin, really pressing my body into the ice for the deep stretch. I feel the pull, and I welcome the discomfort as I continue to maneuver my body into different poses to get the deepest stretch. It isn't until Coach comes out that I realize I'm alone. I do this, though; I focus so intently on my stretches that everything else fades away.

Coach skates toward me, leaning his large frame over the back of the goal before pushing my water bottle to the side so he can lean on his elbows. He's dressed in his black athletic pants and a jacket that has the Bears emblem on the back and COACH written on the front. His hair is getting longer, as is his beard.

"Going for the Highlander look, aye, Coach?"

He sets me with a scathing look, and I grin as I do the splits. "Fuck off, okay?"

I grin at that, leaning on my elbows, mirroring his stance.

"How you feeling?"

"Good," I say automatically. "Feel loose, strong, head is in the game." The last is a bit of a lie. I haven't thought once about the upcoming game, only about Elliot. But I have no worries that I'll turn it on tomorrow. I know I will.

He nods slowly, rubbing his longer-than-usual beard. "You seemed a bit distracted when a certain brunette was on the bench."

I shrug, my eyes on his. "She's the best distraction. But don't worry, I'm ready."

He shuffles his feet, and I know he does that to give himself a second to choose his words. "I'm not worried," he says, meeting my gaze. "Something has started back up?"

"Are you asking as my coach or as my mate?"

His eyes narrow a bit, and I'm pushing my luck. This guy only tolerates me because I can keep pucks out of the goal for him. "Both?" he challenges, and I look away as I change position, stretching my hammy on the other side.

"Yes," I say softly before looking up at him. "She's pregnant."

If he's surprised, his face doesn't show it in the slightest. He keeps his eyes on me. "And it's yours?"

I nod. "Yeah. She's six months along."

"And you are good with this?"

"I am," I tell him, and I don't miss the hint of warning in my voice.

Say one thing about my love, and I'll lose my fucking mind.

"Congratulations, Cruz. You'll be an incredible dad," he says, and I see a bit of pride in his gaze, but surely I'm making that up. "A young dad."

I scoff as I nod. "Yeah, my mom was over thirty when she had me, so I'm starting a wee bit earlier than her."

"I'm thirty-six and somehow still haven't knocked anyone up. Winning."

I chuckle along with him as I stand, shaking out my limbs. "I feel like I'm winning."

"Ah, that's 'cause it's all cute and sweet right now. Wait till you're covered in poop and picking Cheerios out of your skates."

I grin. "Know that from experience?"

"I used to do it to my dad." His grin is unstoppable, and a bit of pain gathers in my chest. I don't have little stories like that with a father figure, but my kid will have them all.

"Can I ask you something?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to regret this answer, but sure," he says hesitantly.

"Why didn't it work out with your wife?"

He lets out a long breath through his teeth. "Going for the jugular, aye?" I flash him a timid grin, and he shrugs. "We got married when I was drafted, and it wasn't what she wanted. She thought it was going to be fast money and fun, but I started at the bottom and never made it to the top before I fucked up my knee."

I nod. "And you haven't met anyone since? You've been divorced for ten years now."

"I have. And listen, giving yourself to someone is hard. I know it works out for some, but it didn't for me, and I'd rather not try again." I want to urge him to do so, to tell him someone is out there for his grumpy-ass self, but he tips his head toward the bench. "Your baby mama is over there."

Heat burns my face as my eyes narrow. "She is more than just a mother."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She is the love of my life."

"Jesus Christ, you got it bad. Fucking fool," he mutters, throwing my bottle at me. I catch it with ease, and he rolls his eyes. "Don't get too distracted."

I don't promise him a damn thing.

I love being a fool for this woman, and I don't give two shits how distracting she is to me.

I'm not letting her go.