Page 76

You don’t get paid to cheer for a career. Yes, I get a stipend for cheering/dancing for the NBA Nashville Fireflies, but it’smore for the social aspect and getting to know people in the sports world.

As I’m writing my notes about my client’s finances and jotting down the different ways to protect her inheritance, bouncing vibrations rattle from the coffee table, making me jolt. I lunge for my phone, heart racing, hoping for the game to be over—desperate for it to finally be John.

It’s not. Instead, it’s Corbin and Oakley sending me a link to an article about John. I brace myself for it to be a photo of John and Stella or even some other woman.

It’s not. In fact, it may be worse. The article says John was filmed betting against his own team in a game they lost last year. The headline Cecily sent was just that he had been called to the commissioner’s office. Now the pieces are coming together.

To use his words, I guess he does have a lot going on. I read and reread every word, and the longer I dwell on it, I realize that when John and I were supposed to share a secret, I shared mine, but we got distracted, and he never revealed his. Could this be his secret?

No one will convince me of these accusations against John. He would never do anything like these ugly headlines. He lives and breathes hockey. Always has. He went to bat for his teammate tonight and does so every other night when it’s necessary. They don’t call him the penalty player for nothing. There’s no way he would sabotage his own team.

If I could only use one word to describe John, it would be competitive, not criminal.

I’m torn between calling him and letting him vent and just curling up in my bed, listening to my favorite country crooner. Instead, I text my brother.

Me: This is a lie.

Corbin: I don’t believe it either, but he also promised me that he would never hurt you, yet here we are.

Me: At least he has a real reason he hasn’t called.

Corbin: I guess. But I meant it when I said if he messes this up, he’s not just losing you, he loses me too. If it makes a difference, he hasn’t texted any of us in the group text or privately.

Me: Corby, thanks for being the best brother in the whole world.

Corbin: Reed is trying to get some info from his dad but so far, his dad said to stay out of it.

Me: Okay, let me know if you get any clarification.

After I take another ginger pill and drink a half glass of water, I curl up under the covers. Panic swirls in my chest when I hear the buzz of the intercom and the building doorman’s voice. “You have a visitor and they won’t take no for an answer.”

“Okay.”

I’ve barely hung up when I hear a rapid, frantic knocking against my door. It’s urgent, almost as if someone’s life depends on it. Is it Oakley? Is Corbin right behind her, trying to cool her off. But panic drums in my veins as I reach the door. I look through the peephole.

He's here.

My heart hammers against my chest as I click the deadbolt and open the door. John stands there, breathless and rumpled—worry written all over his face. Unshaven with multiple days’ worth of growth. He looks like he’s about to fall apart or mayberun, but then all at once, I realize I don’t care how he got here—all I care about is that he did.

“How are you here?”

At first, he just stares with his palm against the door jamb, still in the hallway. He takes a deep breath and says, “What did you mean by we?”

My eyebrows dip to the center, not understanding what he’s talking about. I mean his game only ended a few hours ago.

“What?”

He takes a cautious step toward me, reaching for my face, but I flinch in response. John’s expression changes from desperate to pained.

“Bex, tell me. What did you mean when you said, ‘We can make it without you?’”

Tucking my lips between my teeth, I contemplate on whether I should tell him I’m pregnant when he’s in the middle of this chaotic scandal. But when he grabs my hand, my lids can’t contain the tears bursting through.

I cry, and between broken breaths, I ask, “Why didn’t you call me or text me? You’re supposed to love me.”

John wraps me in his arms and tucks my head beneath his chin as his fingers rub circles over the nape of my neck. He then tilts my chin up. “I love everything about you, Bex. I’m in love with you. Please answer my question. Who did you mean when you saidwe? Are we having a baby?”

His eyes bore into mine, searching for an answer. I press a trembling hand against his abdomen, putting distance between us. I cover my stomach with my hand and can’t help the smile forming. “Yes. We’re having a baby.”