Page 23

The puck drops and another Ford who’s playing center sends the puck back to him. From my research years ago, I learned about the Ford brothers who play together for the Aston Archers. Caleb Ford, captain and star center and Carson Ford, star defenseman. Caleb is the older of the two, but only by two years.

#8.

I didn’t stalk him. I merely had to do research to figure out who he was after I found out I was pregnant. Naturally, I did a little bit of digging but it was all public information. Everything I know about his brother, his hockey career, and him was easily found by a simple search on the internet that anyone could perform.

“You know Carson, who we met at the grocery store the other day?” I question him, moving him away from my leg as I step closer to the television. Matteo nods and I point at the screen as the whistle is blown and play stops. “There he is, right there.”

Matteo’s face lights up, his eyes wide, mouth hanging open as he stares at the screen. “He plays hockey?” He quickly looks at me and my head bobs. His attention immediately leaves my face, his gaze glued to the TV as he watches Carson moving around onthe ice, heading back to their defensive zone. “I want to be like him when I grow up.”

A wave of guilt crashes against the shores of my heart. He met his father, yet he has no idea of the truth and I know I can’t tell him yet. I don’t know how Carson and I are going to navigate the future, but he made it clear that he wants to be a part of Matteo’s life, so long as the results of the paternity test give him the confirmation he seeks.

“Do you want to stay with me on the couch for a bit and watch the game?”

Matteo’s head whips around to look at me, nodding eagerly as he moves closer to me. “Can I, please?”

I stare down at my beautiful baby boy, his gray eyes searching mine with hope. A smile blooms across my lips, lifting the apples of my cheeks. “Come on,” I tell him, my voice gentle as I guide him to the couch. He climbs on and I grab a blanket, settling down on the cushion beside him. He scoots closer and slips beneath my arm as he snuggles up against my side.

Pulling the blanket over his body and mine, I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as we both stare across the room at the television, watching as Carson heads back onto the ice for his next shift. Matteo is laser focused on him for as long as he can be until sleep pulls him into the darkness.

CHAPTER NINE

CARSON

It’s extremely difficult to not feel like I’m going to crumble from the insurmountable pressure right now. This isn’t the first time we’ve made the playoffs. In the years that I’ve played for the Aston Archers, we’ve made playoffs half a dozen times. This year is a completely different experience for me because my heart just isn’t in it right now.

This is the first year that I’m feeling the pressure from the outside world. It’s the first time that I’m not able to completely shut off my mind from all the noise and all the distractions. It's the first time I'm dealing with a situation like the one I’ve found myself in with Andi and Matteo.

Rolling my wrist, I glance at my watch checking the time again. Yesterday was our travel day and today we're kind of just hanging out. We had an early skate this morning and practice earlier this afternoon. The time difference only has us two hours behind Aston so it's almost four right now. Today is day four of waiting for the paternity results.

The lab closes in 45 minutes and then I’ll be left spending another night waiting.

I’ve been trying to not focus on the two different possibilities that results could be. It’s so unknown, yet in my heart, I feellike I’m already certain of the truth. If I find out that Matteo isn’t mine, I will genuinely be surprised after meeting him. Just from the small interaction I’ve had with him and his Ford-like features. It’s undeniable.

But, even though I feel so certain, there is a part of me that is struggling with the possibility. I can’t wrap my head around the idea of me having a child. Of me being a father.

I think it has to do with all the time that has passed. All the time I could have spent with him. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel guilty for her having to face raising a child as a single mother. But had I known, I would have been present.

She would have never had to worry about doing this alone.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open as I reach my floor. After our morning skate, I stopped along the street to grab some food from a vendor that had a food truck parked alongside the curb. The rest of the guys went ahead of me and they’ve been here at the hotel for a little bit now.

We normally have a pre-practice meal, but I didn’t feel like I could wait until then. My appetite has been fucked up since I ran into Andi at the grocery store and the lack of nutrients is not helping me to perform at an optimal level right now. We only have one shot at playoffs every single season and I can't be the reason that we fuck this one up.

I get to the room that I'm sharing with my brother and find him curled up on the queen size bed on the far side of the room. He always takes the one closest to the window and there have been quite a few times I’ve caught him staring out into the distance, his mind drifting past the horizon.

In a way, it feels like he’s still searching for some sign of Amelia...as if there’s some way for her to come back to him.

I stare at my brother for a moment, my gaze drifting across his calm, relaxed features. His chest rises and falls in slow deep breaths. A frown tugs his lips downward, his forehead creasingas his eyebrows pinch together before relaxing again. Leaving him to sleep, I make sure I’m quiet as I slip into the bathroom.

After washing my face and my hands, I walk back into the room again and look at the clock. Only three hours until we have to be back at the rink. I have enough time to try and take a nap, but I’m not so sure I’ll have any success.

At any opportunity, any moment of silence, the lingering thoughts about the paternity test that hang heavily in the back of my mind seem to have a way of working to the front of my mind. Sleep has been next to impossible the past few nights and it’s just another strike against me fucking up my performance on the ice.

Walking over to my dresser, I pull out a change of clothes and strip out of my warm up suit to put on a comfortable pair of basketball shorts and a plain white T-shirt. As I pull my head through my shirt, my phone begins to vibrate on the top of my dresser. It immediately grabs my attention, my heart racing in my chest. It thumps to a face beat, violently racking against my ribcage.

My breath catches as I wrap my hand around the device, lifting it to see the screen. There’s an unknown number that pops up and even though I don’t recognize it, I have a very good feeling about who it is. My stomach sinks. I don’t answer it until I’m sliding open the glass door that leads onto the balcony and stepping out into the hot sun. My finger slides across the screen to answer the call while I shut the door behind me.

“Hello?”