Page 70 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Thirty-Six

Beth

Cas gave me wide eyes before he turned and took the steps leading onto the plane.

I understood the unspoken message.

But I didn’t think addressing Raph’s mother showing up out of the blue, latching onto me, and crossing all kinds of boundaries was appropriate for a middle-of-the-night flight, after a road trip and a series of tough games, right before the playoffs.

“Up you go, sugarpie,” Raph said, hands drifting to my waist and nudging me forward. “Get that hot ass of yours into a seat.”

I didn’t argue, just headed up, sat down, buckled in, and worried…

Fingers on my cheek.

“I’m fine.”

“Raph, love, your mother just showed up after years of no contact with your two half-brothers in tow and they say you’re their favorite player and?—”

“Is there shit for me to unpack?” he asked softly.

“Fuck yeah. But is it tearing me up inside? No, sugarpie, it’s not.

” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, voice low.

“Instead, I looked at that woman and knew she was no more my mother than Smitty is. Not anymore. The memories from my childhood—the pictures, the recipes I still use, those were my mother. That woman back at the rink…she was a stranger.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip. All of that sounded well-adjusted.

But…it had still been a lot.

His thumb gently freed my lip, smoothed over it. “I’m okay, I swear. And when I’m not, I know who’ll have my back.”

His eyes told me that he meant I would have his back and his teammates and Pru and Hazel and?—

“I’m okay,” he whispered. “And there comes a point that I’m not, I know you’ll help me get there.”

My heart squeezed and affection for my man filled every single one of my cells. Christ I loved him.

His mouth brushed mine.

And I was stepping into warm ocean water, feeling that humid breeze on my face.

A gentle hand on my cheek.

My lids peeling open to see Raph with clear, peaceful eyes and no pain lingering on the edges of his expression.

“Honey,” I whispered.

He stroked a hand over my hair. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His smile settled over me like that heated breeze. “Yeah, you do.”

A swat to his shoulder.

His arm came around me, tugging me close. “I love you, too, sugarpie.”

“Yeah, you do,” I teased back.

And then I snuggled into my man and was asleep before we even hit cruising altitude.

His rage came two months later, well after the season was over.

After the Breakers were eliminated in the second round of the playoffs.

Painful as hell to bear witness to it, especially with my man and the other guys giving every single ounce of themselves on the ice and having it not be enough.

All that work…and then just done.

But I hadn’t begrudged the extra time with Raph once the sadness had faded—sleeping together every night, hanging out and doing nothing.

Movies and meals and cuddling and sex…having to use every bit of our creativity to make it work.

And doing what we were doing that night, talking with our feet in the pool, staring up at the night sky.

Tonight he was talking, letting that anger out.

I was listening. I had his back.

And the fixer in me fucking loved that.

But the rest of me was—and been for weeks—just boiling every time I thought about it. Every time I wondered how in the fuck that woman could have left Raph behind.

An innocent boy.

Her boy.

Then to just start over, not bothering to come back for him.

Not bothering to call or reach out…until he could do something for her .

Because she’d called Raph’s manager, of course she had.

And Raph, the good man that he was, had given the boys an experience to end all experiences—playoff tickets, jerseys, swag, meet and greets. They’d had the works , and the joy on their faces had been incredible.

Raph had done that.

He’d given them that joy.

And his mother hadn’t done anything else.

Not another apology—something better than I’m sorry .

Not a word of thanks or an explanation for why she’d left Raph to his drunk, abusive father.

Instead, she’d seemed uncomfortable around her oldest son, hovering around Mario and Bennie, and just fucking taking .

Me…well, I was infuriated by his mother, but I kept my anger under wraps.

Or so I had thought.

Because Raph trailed his fingers across my jaw. “My fierce defender.”

I scowled.

He kissed me. “Like I said, so freaking fierce.”

“You don’t hurt my man,” I whispered. “Not then. Not now.”

“Considering I feel the same way about you, I’ll let the overprotectiveness slide.” I rolled my eyes, but he simply smiled and tugged at a lock of my hair. “Did I also mention beautiful?”

“That’s you, my love. You’re beautiful here.” I covered his chest, the spot just over his heart, with my palm. Feeling the steady beating, knowing that it was mine, just as my heart was his. “And all mine.”

“Possessive. Beautiful. Fierce. Strong.” A kiss to my forehead, my nose, one cheek, the other, each punctuating a word. “And most important, mine. ”

“Who’s possessive now?” I teased.

“Me. Definitely me.” He shifted so that his legs were on either side of mine, arms wrapping around my middle.

“I get much bigger, you won’t be able to do that.”

A kiss to my shoulder, one palm resting on my belly, feeling the babies move, though they’d slowed a bit in recent days, space at an absolute premium.

“Beautiful,” he murmured again, leaning around me, and pressing his mouth to my jaw.

Which happened to be the exact moment that my water broke.

A gush soaking both of our bottoms, dripping along the stones, plinking into the pool.

Turning, my wide eyes hit his, which were equally as wide.

“I’m guessing,” I whispered as amniotic fluid kept dripping into the pool, “that means the pool guy is going to have to come rebalance the chemicals?”

His lips tipped up.

And then we were both laughing.

Laughter that lasted all of a second before a rippling pain trailed through my abdomen. “Holy hell,” I whispered, bending over, gripping Raph’s legs tightly until it passed.

“Right,” he said once it was over. He glanced at his watch, and I knew he was clocking the time, would be tracking my contractions.

Because he was Raph.

Because he’d read books and blogs and watched videos, even though these weren’t his babies.

Because he was going to be there for me every step of the way.

“I’m getting you upstairs for a quick change and to grab your bag”—I’d had it packed for weeks now—“while you call Pru. Then we’re off to the hospital.”

Nerves hit me and did it hard.

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“I’m here.”

“What if I mess?—”

“I’m here , sugarpie.”

I released a shaky breath.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“Right.” Less whisper and more a quiet word.

But…progress.

“Good?”

I nibbled my lip but nodded. “Good.”

Then he was carrying me, ignoring my protests, setting me on the bed and getting me into the outfit I’d set out to wear to the hospital in case something like this happened (I was either very prepared or had ESP). He changed as I phoned Pru.

Another contraction hit mid-call, so he took over, relaying the info, promising to meet them at the hospital.

Because he was Raph.

Because he was mine .

“Right,” I whispered when it was done. “I think it’s go time.”

He kissed my forehead. “You got this.”

A breath. My hand tight in his. “I know I do.” I smiled. “Because you’re here.”

“Fuck, I love you.”

“I love?—”

Another contraction hit.

And then it really was go time.