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My nostrils flare, and my chest heaves. Although Irving’s comments were directed toward Aurora’s centerfold pictures, he inadvertently hit me where it hurts. Few people know the baby isn’t mine, but fuck, I wish he was.
And when the truth is revealed, I expect nonstop harassment on the ice. In hockey, when you’re challenged, you’d better fight back. If you don’t, you’ll be the target of every player.
Tonight’s altercation was to make it clear I won’t tolerate any disrespect out of their mouths, not when it comes to Aurora.
Ethan presses his lips together and nods. He steps closer and clasps my shoulder. I don’t love it when he does that, but it doesn’t trigger the same jarring reaction as it once did.
“Before you let baseless insults provoke you, get a paternity test. The truth might have you laughing at their stupid shit instead of throwing fists.”
Confused, I tilt my head and furrow my brows. What’s he suggesting? Is he telling me he’s not the father, that I have a chance here? Did he and Aurora have a conversation I’m unaware of?
He lowers his voice, even though nothing is missed in this locker room. “Perhaps she’s afraid of your history or Kyle. Lies don’t send people into a rage. It’s the truth that hurts. Your reaction is only going to spur more harassment.”
My heart rate elevates, and I wonder what he’s playing at. Is he letting me take the fall for this? Letting me claim his child? If he wants, I’ll disregard him as the father and return to my plan of spoiling Aurora and the baby.
That’s the plan, regardless. Only now, I have to contend with him—the one respectable man in my life, except for maybe Grant and Kill.
I gaze down at my skates, smiling. To the other players, it may appear as if I’m contemplating the idea of the child being mine because Aurora lied to me. If that were the case, I’d be fucking ecstatic. So, I allow myself to believe it, allow it to swell in my chest and light up my veins.
Raucous conversation fills the room, and we move on as if nothing happened. The trainer brings an ice pack and removes my skates while I sip a protein shake, and Ethan gives the postgame speech.
When he finishes, he reminds everyone we’re a team on and off the ice—we don’t talk shit, and we don’t involve the media. I can’t help but wonder if his words carry a deeper meaning, one that speaks to the two of us.
With a day between games, there’s no time to travel home. Right after I get an x-ray, showing no significant injury, only inflammation from aggravating my previous fractures, we leave to catch a flight to Colorado.
Before boarding, I shoot a text to Aurora.
Me: Flying out. I can’t wait to talk to you tonight *kiss emoji*
My life: Great goal! Ice that hand *pink heart emoji*
She watched my game—a goofy smile spreads across my lips. I’m utterly infatuated with her.
No, I’m thoroughly obsessed. I can’t get her and the baby out of my head.
I enter the cabin of the plane and find an open seat next to Ethan. I wouldn’t usually choose to sit beside him, but curiosity has gotten the best of me.
He eyes me with suspicion and shields his phone. “What are you doing?”
“What areyoudoing?”
“Looking at houses for my future wife,” he says, echoing my previous taunts but ignoring my actual question.
“You can fuck all the way off. Tell me what you’re really doing.”
“She mentioned wanting a place in Santa Monica. I thought I’d beat her to it, you know?” He shrugs and feigns nonchalance, and it’s damn obvious.
But I’m prepared to play his game. I can trump whatever he comes up with, other than the baby, for now.
“I already have a penthouse on the beach. Don’t waste your money.”
“Yeah, she told me.” His smirk ignites my jealousy, and he knows it. “By the way, what’s the address? I want to send her a few things.”
I have a feeling he’s not only purposefully aggravating me but also vying for Aurora’s attention. Why wouldn’t he?
“Don’t bother. I already give her everything.”
“That’s fine. She’ll be in New York soon. I’ll send her gifts there.”