Page 39 of Goal Line (Boston Rebels #4)

“Better yet,” Zach says, “I’ll text you both and introduce you. That way, you can’t just ignore my text with her info when I send it.”

“You’re a dick,” I say, but there’s absolutely no heat behind my words.

“I’m a dick who’s looking out for you. Meet with her, please. Just give it one meeting, and if it’s not a good fit, you never have to talk to her again.”

I stick my helmet back on my head, hoping to hide the emotions I’m feeling.

I know Zach well enough to know that if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be pushing me to do something he thinks will be good for me.

Something that might help me be a better player, or at least avoid another situation like what happened in Game 7.

Because, let’s face it, now that Eva is in my life in a much deeper and more permanent way, the chances of me letting my worries or my fears about her or the baby overwhelm me in the future have increased dramatically.

If that’s how I reacted when she was “just a friend,” how would I react now that she’s my wife?

Now that her baby will be my child, too?

“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Good man,” Zach says, elbowing me.

Luke

Sorry I didn’t see your text earlier. My phone was in the locker room while we practiced. I assume that’s a rhetorical question, and you’re welcome.

I glance at the text as I ride the elevator up to my condo, wondering if I should be worried that I sent it nearly an hour ago before I hopped in the shower, packed up all my gear, and headed home from our practice facility. Maybe Eva fell back asleep?

In my entryway, I drop my keys and wallet into the bowl on the round table in the center of the curved space, and then walk into the open living area.

As it always does on a sunny day, the view surprises me in the best way.

The curved wall of glass at the corner of this building showcases a huge amount of the city.

To the right is the top of the Prudential Tower with the Public Garden, Boston Common, and Beacon Hill beyond it.

Straight ahead is the Charles River, winding between Boston and Cambridge.

The river sparkles a deep blue in the bright sunshine, framed by the trees on each side, the brick buildings of Back Bay beneath us, and the soft white stone buildings of MIT across the river.

From the other side of my condo, out the bedroom windows, I can see Fenway Park and the greenspace that makes up the connected parks of the Emerald Necklace.

I bought this place in the early spring, as soon as I landed in Boston after learning about the trade.

Preston was the one who told me it was on the market, and luxury residences at the top of one of Boston’s newest and tallest skyscrapers are hard to come by, so we headed straight to meet his realtor after he picked me up at the airport.

It was a gross, overcast day where the city was covered in a dense layer of clouds and cold drizzle.

But up here, we were immersed in those clouds, and there was nothing but white haziness outside.

I loved that almost as much as I love the current view, so I purchased it without even seeing another place and moved in within the week.

I glance around the space, and then walk around the corner to make sure Eva’s not in the part of the kitchen near the stove, or in the butler’s pantry, but she’s not anywhere obvious.

“Eva?” I call out.

“Back here, in your room!” Her voice is faint from here, because the bedrooms are down a long hallway off the entryway.

I head back there, and when I walk into my room, she’s sitting in one of the two swivel chairs in front of the windows.

She has it turned to face the view, and her long, wet hair hangs down her back.

Her feet are up on the seat, her knees bent with her chin resting on them, and her arms are wrapped around her legs.

I come up behind her, smoothing a hand over the top of her head, but she doesn’t look up at me. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She sniffles, and I turn the chair, dropping to my knees in front of her. Her face is streaked with dried tears, and her puffy eyes are tinged in red.

“Oh shit, Eva.” I reach out and stroke her cheek. “What happened?”

She lets out a choked laugh. “Literally nothing. I’m just emotional.”

“Pregnancy hormones?”

“Probably.”

“So you just got sad for no reason at all?”

She sighs, then says, “No. I was in the shower and I was noticing the curve of my belly, and it made me think of my mom’s comment about my body at dinner last night, and that made me think about the kind of relationship I want to have with my child...”

I lean forward and kiss her forehead. What I want to say is that I’m sorry her mom can be such a bitch, but I don’t think that will help anything.

And I honestly don’t think Helene is trying to be a bitch.

I think she just has no idea how to be a parent to an adult child and doesn’t realize that her role should be as a supportive presence in Eva’s life, not as someone trying to micromanage her daughter’s career.

The problem has always been that Helene is incredibly driven, and she doesn’t know how to not push Eva in the same way she’s always pushed herself .

But I don’t say any of that, because Eva already knows it, and me jumping in with my feelings on the matter won’t make it better. Instead, I say, “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know.” She drops her head, letting her forehead rest on her kneecaps as she mumbles, “Just don’t ever let me be like that, okay?”

I bark out a laugh, and her head snaps up, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry, but first of all, I don’t think you ever would be like that. And secondly, I don’t think you’d like it much if I pointed out any comparison between you and your mom. That would be like walking into a field of landmines.”

She gives me a small smile. “Maybe. But I still need you to do it, okay? Unlike my mom, I can take feedback. I might not like to hear it, but I’m not going to act like you’re making it all up, or reply with something like ‘I guess I’m just the worst mother in the world, then.’”

“I hate that she tries to gaslight you like that,” I say, wondering how Charlie deals with that. He’s one of the most chill and supportive men I’ve ever met. It’s always seemed like maybe he’s exactly the type of person Helene needs to balance her out.

“And I have to go get the rest of my stuff from their house, because we didn’t grab it last night, and all my skating gear is there. We have our first practice tomorrow, but I don’t even want to go to the house because I don’t want to see her.”

“We could go right now,” I say. It’s just about lunchtime on a weekday, so I know Helene will be at the stables with my mom. They just bought a few new horses, and there’s always a bunch of work to do when new horses come in .

She lifts her eyebrows. “We?”

Like I’d let her go alone, given how she’s feeling. “Well, since we decided to leave your car back in Los Angeles, and we haven’t gotten you a new car yet, I guess you’ll need a lift up there.”

She sticks one foot out, nudging me with her toe. “Don’t trust me to drive your car?” Her tone is teasing, and she lets out another small smile.

Don’t want to let my wife out of my sight for one second longer than necessary .

“You can drive if you want. But I’m still coming with you. Not only because you’re not supposed to lift anything heavy, which I assume a fully packed suitcase will be, but also because I feel like you may want me there for emotional support.”

“Why would I need emotional support if my mom’s not there?” she asks, brows pinched.

“Because if just the memory of that interaction with your mom last night had you in full-blown crying mode, imagine what packing up your stuff in your childhood bedroom will be like.”