Page 1

CHAPTER ONE

MAY

ZACH

I’m nobody’s fool. Well, not anymore, anyway.

The trouble is, I can’t change what’s already been and gone, and as much as I’d like to rewrite history, there’s fuck all I can do to reverse the bad decisions I’ve made.

Those that led me to where I’m headed right now, a fucking paternity test center where my latest bad choice has resulted in the need to swab my mouth to find out if I am, in fact, the father of the child my ex-girlfriend is carrying.

Frankly, it’s a miracle we’ve even reached this point since she’s spent the better part of four months trying to convince me there can’t be anyone else since the timeline doesn’t stack up.

I approach the entrance and grip the metal door handle tightly, fueled with frustration as I swing it open and walk through. There shouldn’t even be a timeline to work out.

Oh right, yeah,except she slept with the former New York Blades defenseman and official NHL asshole himself, Alex Schneider.

Amie is as crazy as she is stupid if she thinks I’ll take her back. I’m here for one reason and one reason only—to find out if I’ll be a dad and my Amie-sized mistake will mean she’s a part of my life forever, or if I get to walk away for good. If it’s the former, I’ll step up and be the father my dad has always been to me. But if it’s the latter, I’m hightailing it out of Seattle and back home to spend the offseason rehabilitating and keeping my head down and out of harm’s way. We didn’t make the playoffs which fucking sucked, but at least I have extra time to recover from what has been the worst six months of my life.

I drop onto a cream leather couch in a stark white room and await my fate. Apparently, doing the test face-to-face means the results will be back in only two days. That, and like hell am I taking a home test.

Yeah, okay, Amie. Let’s do it from home because I trust you not to tamper with the results.

“Mr. Evans?” a small woman dressed in a white coat calls out across the room.

“That’s me,” I reply, a slight tremble to my tone. So this is the woman I’m entrusting with the next eighteen years of my adult existence.

One thing I do know for sure: whatever happens, I’m celibate for life.

I swingmy truck into my apartment parking lot and throw my head back in my seat.

Two days. Forty-eight hours of torture, waiting to hear the results.

The pocket of my jeans vibrates, and I pull out my phone.

Magnificent Morgan

How did it go, man?

Magnificent Morgan?Really?Otherwise known as Jon Morgan—my best friend, teammate, and the center and captain of the Seattle Scorpions. I need to change his name in my phone, or better yet, put a password on the damn thing so he can’t keep updating his contact. He might not be single anymore, but he’s still a cocky asshole.

Me

Magnificent Morgan? Stay out of my contacts.

Did you get your mouth swabbed or what?

Yep, now two days of hell.

Popped the question yet?

Yep. Put my big boy pants on and asked and it’s a yes!

My phone buzzes again seconds later.

*Picture of Felicity beaming, her ring-clad hand outstretched in front of her.*

I smile down at the image of the gorgeous engagement ring sitting very proudly on the hand of the greatest thing that could’ve ever happened to my best friend. His life is changed forever. His now fiancée, Felicity Thompson, soon-to-be Morgan, is one in a million, and the lucky son of a bitch nailed her down. Despite the shit show that is my own life, their happiness can’t help but seep into mine.