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Chapter 7

Penelope

“I don’t know about this, Avery. Maybe we should go to the bar I met him at instead,” I mumble as the crowd chants around us with excitement, I look at the ice before me, my body trembling with fear and coldness.

This is a bad idea, a really, really bad idea.

When Avery rang Dad and asked, or more like begged, for the charity tickets he mentioned were donated last month that he was going to give away in a raffle at the firm, I was hesitant. I mean, showing up at a charity game that he’s playing to drop this bomb on him didn’t seem like the brightest of ideas, but I’m out of options. I know this may be my only chance without going through the legal route. I’ve rang Elena, the bitch agent Avery and I have dubbed her to be several times over the past week, and now she just hangs up when she hears my voice.

I sent her a text, a picture of my ultrasound as proof, showing that I was indeed now seven weeks pregnant. She accused me of falsifying a sonogram photo, which was just ridiculous, to be honest, I mean, how many women would go to that length just for a hockey player?

I shake my head to clear my stupid thoughts because, let’s face it, probably loads do claim to be pregnant wanting money, but surely she has to look into it.

Sitting up straight when some men enter the ice rink, I eye them, hoping to spot Taylor, but notice they have ‘Oldies’ written on the back of their jerseys and I realize it’s not his team yet, I swallow hard.

Avery and I managed to find out where he lived. Five separate times I’ve been turned away. On the sixth, I was escorted out of the building by security, so I decided to camp outside after my shifts. Yesterday, they called the police and threatened to arrest me for loitering.

This charity game is my one and only chance to try and speak to him before I have to get lawyers involved just to get through to him, which means getting my parents involved. As of yet, they don’t know about the baby, something they’re going to learn about tomorrow at our weekly dinner, where I’m most likely going to be disowned and my sisters support will be gone.

Jesus, I don’t even want anything from him. Well, my heart and body want him, but he belongs to someone else right now; baby-wise, I want nothing. I just want him to know he’s going to be a father so he can decide whether or not he wants to be involved.

“This is the only way, Pen,” Avery says with determination.

I sigh, leaning back in my seat, knowing she’s right, but just as my back hits the hard, cold seat, the crowd goes wild as an announcer states over the speakers that the Red Lion Hockey players are entering the rink. I sit up again, my stomach tightening with anticipation.

The excitement from the crowd fills me, but my nerves overtake me as one by one the players are announced before they skate on the ice wearing red, black, and green jerseys causing the crowd to get louder with each player, while the ‘Oldies’ boo playfully which is kind of funny.

The Red Lions are playing with family members to raise money for children's hospitals nationwide.

“Ooh, Ezra is really hot,” Avery gasps as said player skates on the ice, waving to the crowd, I grin at my sister.

I really hope she’ll divorce Harry and find a man that excites her, I really do.

“And for your Center,” the announcer states, causing the girls behind us to scream, making me wince, “the man who scored three goals out of four winning the Stanley Cup and wants nothing more than to beat his own father, skating legend Nico Evans, it’s your captain, Taylor Evans.”

The crowd goes wild, deafening me as they all stand and scream while my eyes widen in shock, not expecting that reaction. Avery helps me stand when I don’t move, and by help, I mean she drags me up.

My eyes lock on the tunnel just as Taylor skates with speed onto the ice, my mouth drops in shock at how well he moves, but laughter soon bubbles as he skids to a stop, spraying ice all over a man in front of him, a man that looks a lot like him.

“Oh my god, he just sprayed his own father,” a girl behind us gasps, I laugh at the look on his father’s face, pure shock.

Half the crowd goads while the others laugh. Taylor's father narrows his eyes at his son playfully. The small smile on his face proves it, and the grin Taylor gives—gah, my heart .

Okay, so it definitely wasn’t my hormones that night. There’s something there, a pull.

Taylor looks up and scans the crowd with a furrowed brow like he can feel me, which is ridiculous, I hold my breath, waiting for his eyes to come my way. But before we can connect, a guy moves in front of me, I swallow hard, feeling disappointed but also relieved because I’m not ready yet. As soon as the guy in front moves, Taylor is focused on his dad, both in the center of the ice, their mouths moving.

“They are totally talking shit to each other,” Avery says and chuckles, but I don’t take my eyes off Taylor.

He still has a grin on his face, even as he bends a little when the ref lifts his hand and drops the puck, as my sister calls it, on the ice. He still grins, especially when he beats his dad to said puck, but his dad moves his stick and instead of trying to grab the puck, he puts it beneath his son’s skates. My eyes widen as Taylor trips, just catching himself before he can fall, which gives his dad enough time to get the puck and the crowd laughs knowing he just cheated.

Taylor shakes his head and skates after his dad, managing to shove him hard into the boards and trip him in the process, where he does fall. I laugh as the ref blows his whistle and sends him to a box near where his team is sitting, all while his father laughs, knowing he got away with the foul while his son didn’t.

Taylor throws his head back and groans, I grin wide.

“Looks like this is going to be one funny game,” Avery laughs, and I nod.

I’ve never been to a hockey game before, but I know they’re more serious and aggressive than this, so it’s nice to watch my first one full of fun and laughter.

I couldn’t stop the laughter for the next sixty minutes, watching father and son on the ice. Every time Nico Evans did something to his son, the ref misses it, but when Taylor retaliates, he ends up in the sin bin, as Avery called it.

It’s hilarious, and the fact that he doesn’t lose his grin just amazes me. They’re all having fun, the atmosphere has completely relaxed me.

We watch as the ‘Oldies’ win, but I keep my eyes on Taylor and my palms begin to sweat knowing it’s now or never. The players are all slapping hands, some exiting the ice.

“Penelope, you ready?” Avery says loudly over the roaring crowd while I look through the players for Taylor, who has disappeared in the rowdiness.

“Let's go,” I say to Avery. She nods, grabs my hand, and carefully moves out of the stands before pulling me to the hallway. We walk down the corridor and stop when we see security.

“Excuse me,” Avery says, and a massive guy looks at us, raising a brow.

I wince at the cold look, but Avery doesn’t miss a beat and states, “My name is Avery Calvins, my sister is Penelope Vine, we need to speak to Taylor Evans; it’s important.”

The guy scoffs, but when he sees we’re serious, he sighs, puts his mouth to his mic, and opens his mouth, giving me hope, until a loud, nasally voice asks, “What is the problem?” Stopping the guy. He turns to a woman wearing a short skirt with stripper heels, a strappy top and a blazer. He walks over to her while I eye her up.

“She looks like the devil,” I mutter to my sister, who agrees.

They whisper for a few seconds, and I share a look with Avery before the woman stands in front of us and demands, “You have five seconds to get out of this arena, or I’m calling the police and ordering a restraining order. I have repeatedly told you to back off, enough is enough.”

“Ah, Elena, I presume,” I ask with attitude as I eye the bottled blonde again. It’s all coming together now; why she continuously disregards me and threatens me.

She narrows her eyes and snaps, “Escort them out and put a ban on them.”

I smirk, making her cheeks heat, knowing I’ve caught on, but before the guy goes to touch me, I snap, “You lay one finger on me, and my father, Carl Vine, will ruin you.”

The guy’s eyes widen, obviously recognizing the name, I turn without argument and mumble to my sister, “It looks like we’re popping in at Mom and Dads on the way home.”

Avery nods and mumbles, “I bet he fucked her once; she has territorial written all over her. No way she’s stopping contact because she’s his agent.”

I nod, not surprised she picked it up either, my stomach sinks because I am nothing like Barbie over there, so what in the hell did he see in me?

“Mom, Dad,” My sister says loudly as we walk into our parent's estate an hour later, creams and whites entering my vision blinding me like normal.

“We’re in the dining room,” Mom's voice rings out and I take a deep breath and walk ahead of my sister through the bland living area and into the dining area. I internally groan when I see Zane-hole and his parents sitting at the table.

“Penelope, this is a pleasant surprise, sweetheart,” my mother says as she dabs around her mouth and stands before wiping down her maxi cream dress. She walks around the glass dining table, her red hair immaculate, not a hair out of place in her small bun despite most likely not leaving the house today.

While dad goes to the office daily, my mother, Aria Vine, likes to work from home.

“Hi, Mom,” I say as she kisses my cheek and then my sisters.

“Is everything okay, Pen?” my dad asks with concern and stands, his blue eyes looking over me to ensure I’m okay.

I give him a small smile. Despite knowing he'll never stand by me, the man has redeemed himself by sticking by Avery with her husband. I’m hoping he’ll prove me wrong right now, otherwise, I’ll be alone but my gut tells me he’s about to disown me, especially doing this with the Andrews’ present.

“Actually, Dad, I came here for some legal advice,” I admit, and his eyes widen as the Andrews stand and walk over to us.

“What does my future wife need legal advice about?” Zane-hole demands, I roll my eyes at him.

He’s in a three-piece suit, his blonde hair is slicked back by too much hair gel looking more like grease while walking around my parents dining table like he owns the place.

Jackass .

I look at him and state once again, for the millionth time, “I am not your future wife. We are not getting married, so let it go! I haven’t signed the contract, and I never will. Find someone else to boss around.”

Charles Andrews, Zane’s dad, narrows his beady gray eyes at my tone, I curl my lip at him, knowing full well he’s just like my sister’s husband, Harry, the bruises lining his wife Nora’s arms giving live proof of that.

Men like them believe women should be seen, not heard. Otherwise, they can raise their fists. They also think they can have a wife and several girlfriends on the side as long as they don’t produce any other children.

“What advice, Pen?” my dad asks carefully, I side-eye my sister, hating that we’re about to be torn apart. She won’t stand by me when I’ve always stood by her. Taking a deep breath and making eye contact with my dad,

I ask, “What does a woman need to do legally to get information to a man after every other communication attempt has failed, and even though you are based in criminal law, can you do what I need?”

He furrows his brows and asks, “Well, that depends on what kind of information we’re talking about.”

My pulse races, I try to swallow the lump in my throat, I admit “That a one-night stand is pregnant with their child but doesn’t want anything from them, only to allow them to be a father.”

Dad blinks in shock while Mom steps back, even though I’ve been treated differently to my sister growing up, not willing to bend to their will for how greedy they’ve become, basically selling their daughter, it stings. Her eyes that are so much like mine have shut off and I know she won’t be there for me, I know our already fractured relationship will never heal.

“A letter can be sent expressing news of the pregnancy, unless you're demanding compensation for the child or a DNA test, it would be in that person’s hands as to whether or not they’d be involved,” Dad answers me robotically already seeing where this is going. I nod and look at my sister, who smiles reassuringly.

I take a deep breath and look back at my father. I state, “I’m seven weeks pregnant with Taylor Evans’ child.” Nora interrupts and gasps, “Nico Evans' son, the center of the Red Lions who just won the Stanley Cup after three years?”

Well, someone’s a fan.

I ignore her, not breaking eye contact with my dad, and ask, “Can you send him that letter? I’ve tried with his agent, but honestly, I think she has a thing for him. She had me removed today when I tried to see him, then banned me from the arena. She’s even called the police on me when I tried to see him at his apartment and tried to enter the Bull where we met.”

My dad’s eyes mist and so many emotions radiate from him, from fear, pain, disappointment, resentment, and hurt, I know he’s about to disown me. The people he promised me to have just listened to me state that I’m pregnant, making it obvious I’m keeping it. I’ve embarrassed him by getting pregnant by a one-night stand and to keep his firm at the top, he needs the Andrews on the side and over the years, it has come apparent that money means more to my parents than me.

“I can do that for you,” he rasps, I tense as he finishes, “but then we’ll have nothing to do with you or the child.”

I lick my bottom lip as my mother chokes back a gasp, her eyes watering. For the first time, I see the love they have for me, just not enough to stand by me.

I nod once as Avery grabs my hand knowing disowning me also means she has to stay away, I know money also means more to her than I do as well.

“You ensure he doesn’t hit her again,” I demand, and dad nods, “and he doesn’t force her to have a child, and she finishes law school?” he nods again, pride shining off him because I’m putting my sister first.

I squeeze Avery’s hand as she lets out a sob and open my mouth to hopefully comfort her, but my head whips to the left, pain radiating from my jaw and lip, and knuckles hit me hard, nearly knocking me over.

I hear my dad growl, but he doesn’t jump in because, well, he’s just disowned me.

“You stupid little slut!” Zane-hole snaps close to my face, his spit spraying everywhere, his hazel eyes blazing with anger and embarrassment.

Guess he told everyone I was his, huh?

I raise a brow at him and state, “I wonder what the press would think knowing the precious son of Charles Andrews just hit a pregnant woman?”

His nostrils flare, but I ignore him, his parents, and my own. I turn to my sister, whose tears stain her cheeks, she doesn't move to say she'll stand by me, and a big part of me resents her, especially because I have always stood by her.

Shaking off the feeling, I gently kiss her cheek, ignoring my lip, I whisper, “I love you, little sister,” and she lets out a sob.

I kiss her again, then walk away without looking back, knowing I did what I had to for my unborn child. This is something my sister and I knew could happen, even if we didn’t want it to, and now, I feel alone.