Page 24 of Only for Tonight (Only For #1)

eighteen

Jaxon

I skate onto the ice and my eyes go up to the box where I know she is. I see her standing there with her cousin Zoey and another girl beside her. The three of their heads are together as they laugh at something.

The crowd roars when we skate around as we start the third period.

We’re winning four to one. So we have to make sure we continue playing our game.

I skate to the blue line and lean forward with my stick in both hands with it on my upper legs, while they take the puck at center ice.

“Twenty minutes,” I tell Kirby, whose eyes are on the puck that drops and he skates up when we win the faceoff.

We end up holding our ground, and when there’s thirty seconds to go, I intercept the pass and whip it to the other side of the net that has no goalie in it.

It sails all the way down the ice, the defenseman trying his hardest to get to the puck before it hits the back of the net, but he’s too slow and it slides in.

The crowd goes wild and my teammates all skate up to me as the horn blows for the end of the period.

We skate to the middle of the ice and we hold up our sticks to thank the crowd for coming before I skate off the ice.

We do this after every single home game, regardless of if we win or not.

Obviously, it’s always better doing it after a win.

I go to the locker room and try to hurry up.

The coach comes in and gives us a pep talk before he allows the media to come in.

I give a couple of interviews before I step into the shower.

The reporters are now gone as some of the guys trickle around and make plans for the night.

I’m slipping on my jacket at the same time as Kirby.

“You joining us for dinner?” he asks me as he grabs his wallet and puts it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“No.” I shake my head. “Going to head straight home.”

“Your girl here?” he asks me, raising his eyebrows, and I nod.

“Am I going to meet her?” he asks, laughing.

“Soon,” I say, not sure what else to tell him since I have to talk to Ariella about how to slowly ease people into this thing with us.

“I look forward to it,” he replies. I nod at him as I turn to walk out of the dressing room. I step out and see Angela there waiting for Kirby and Tiffany is right next to her. She smiles at me and I just turn my head and start to walk away.

“Seriously, Jaxon?” she huffs, hustling to catch up with me in her six-inch heels. “You’re just going to walk past me and try to ignore me?” I turn my head to the other side, not bothering to answer her since that was the answer. “Can we talk, please?” she hisses, grabbing on to my arm.

“No.” I move my hand out of her touch. “We said all there is to say.” I stop. “Also, calling my mother”—I snort—“what did you think that would do?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she hisses at me, her face distorting. “You left me no choice.”

“The mature choice would be to walk away and think it didn’t work out.

Not get on the phone to my mother and spew the shit that you spewed.

Jesus.” I shake my head. “It’s over, Tiffany, as in we are never getting back together.

It was already over but the stuff you pulled since has made it clear that it is never, ever going to happen again.

” I put my hands in my pockets as I look over to see Kirby having words with Angela.

I also don’t tell her that it will never happen again because I’m with Ariella now.

She doesn’t need to know that nor does she deserve to know that.

“Is it because of her?” She cocks her hip to the side.

“Yes and no.” I nod.

“You are going to give us up for that puck?—”

I step into her space now, when a couple of seconds ago I tried to get as far away as I could from her.

“Watch your mouth.” My voice is tight. “She’s more than you will ever be.

” Shock fills her face. “I’d give you up in a heartbeat for her.

Without a second thought. Without skipping a beat, it would be her over you every single time.

Without a shadow of a doubt.” I see her lip quiver.

“Move on.” I turn and stride out and away from her and head toward my SUV where I have Dave waiting with Ariella.

I see her talking to him and take her in, she’s wearing sneakers and my jersey. She must feel me staring at her because she turns my way and smiles at me. “There he is, the first star of the game.” I roll my eyes as she claps her hands.

“Thanks, Dave,” I tell him and he nods at me and walks away, slapping my shoulder.

“You got a good one there,” he says and I smirk.

“Oh, I know, except when she was younger.” I look back at her as she waits for what story I’m going to tell this time. The funny thing is, I have so many stories that it’s hard to choose. “She got me in trouble for pulling her hair.”

“You were twelve and I was five.” She hits me in the stomach. She’s about to pull her hand away from me when I stop her moving by grabbing her hand and pulling her to me. She looks up at me. “Hi,” she says softly.

“Hi,” I return, wrapping my arm around her waist, “ready to head home?”

She nods her head, as I bend to kiss her quickly before putting her in the car and taking us home. “What do you usually do after a game?” she asks me as we step into the house and I take off my jacket.

“Eat and then just try to relax,” I tell her. “Usually sit outside and listen to the ocean.”

“Well, why don’t you go and relax and I can make you something to eat,” she offers, taking off the jersey and leaving her in a tank top and her tights.

“Or you can go sit down on that stool”—I point to the stool—“and talk to me while I warm up one of my premade meals.”

“Fine.” She moves to the stool and sits down. “Then we can go and sit outside while you eat.”

“That sounds like a plan.” I kiss her neck. “So how did you like the game?” I ask her and she smiles.

“It was fun. Zoey and Gabriella were there.” She mentions the other girl who was beside her.

“That’s who she was,” I state when the name clicks into place. “Dylan and Christopher’s sister.”

“Also, my father’s best friend’s daughter.” She puts her hand in front of her on the counter. “We’re going to have to talk about that.”

“What about?” I put my plate in the microwave, shutting the door and pressing the time.

“Well, she asked me what I was doing here.”

“What did you tell her?” I lean back on the counter, extending my arms to the sides as I cross my legs in front of me.

“I didn’t tell her anything. Zoey said we were banging each other.” I tilt my head to the side.

“She’s not wrong there.” I chuckle and see she’s not sure of what to say next. “We are definitely doing that. Very well, I might add.” I wink at her.

“Listen, I don’t know what this is,” she starts and the uncertainty in her voice has my blood going cold. “We probably wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t pregnant.”

“You don’t know that.” I quickly stop her. “That one night we shared something.”

“Yeah, and then we went our separate ways,” she points out.

“Well, we live literally at the opposite ends of the country from each other,” I rebut. “If you lived closer, I would have called you.” Fuck, I thought about her enough in six weeks that I definitely would have caved and called her.

“Stop it.” She rolls her eyes. “You would not.”

“We’ll never know.”

“Exactly, we have to deal with the cards we were dealt and that is that we’re having a baby together.”

“We are.” I nod my head and she just looks at me. “What are you asking me, Ari?”

“I don’t know,” she responds honestly. “I don’t even know if there is a label we can give each other.”

“I mean, we’re together,” I remind her and her face goes into confusion. “Do you not think we are together?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know.”

“Are you seeing someone else?” My finger taps the counter nervously as I feel this rage seep up into me.

“Do you have someone else in New York?” I know she doesn't and even asking her the question is a bit insulting.

Fuck, if anyone else should be doubting the other person, she should be doubting me.

She showed up here and there was a woman wearing my T-shirt.

“I’m not even going to justify that with a fucking answer, Jaxon.” She pushes away from the counter. “I guess this answers the question, then.”

“Yeah, and what answer did you come up with?” I say angrily.

“That we’re friends”—she gets off the stool—“and we’ll leave it at that. We’re friends who are having a baby together. We aren’t the first ones to do it, and we aren’t going to be the last ones either.”

“Friends,” I repeat the word, and it tastes like bile in my mouth.

“We should make a plan to tell our parents,” she mentions and I nod my head because I don’t think I can say anything to her.

“You have to wait for the twelve weeks, don’t you?” I remind her. “And you are what, eight weeks now?”

“Not sure, I’m guessing I’m about maybe nine weeks.” She puts her hand to her stomach and her face goes white.

I stand up and watch her face as she turns and flies out of the room. I run after her as she gets to the bathroom and throws up. “Fuck,” I hiss, walking toward her.

“Can you give me privacy, please?” She puts her head on her arm on top of the toilet bowl as she vomits again.

“Absolutely not,” I finish as I walk out of the bathroom and head to the kitchen to grab her some water, listening to her vomit again.

I grab a bottle of water and rush back to her, catching her in the middle of vomiting.

“I got you some water.” I squat down beside her as she turns her face, and I see tears running down her cheeks.

“Rinse out your mouth, baby,” I offer softly, the tightness in my chest making it feel like I have a noose around my neck that is getting tighter and tighter.

She grabs the bottle from me and I get up, grabbing one of the small towels in the bathroom, putting it in the sink, and turning on the water to wet it.

She sits down and takes a sip of water, spits it out, then starts to throw up again. I wring out the towel and then move to her, pushing her hair away from her neck before placing the rag on the back of it.

“I’m going to get you one for your mouth.” I rub her back and she retches again. I close my eyes, trying to calm down and not freak out, but it’s like it’s simmering on the surface. “What did you eat tonight?”

“Not much.” She spits into the toilet as I wet another rag and hand it to her.

“I had some pizza and fries.” She wipes her mouth as she tries to breathe into her mouth and out again.

“I’ve been nauseous all night,” she admits to me.

“I thought I was going to throw up at the game, but I was fine after a couple minutes.”

“You think you can get upstairs?” I ask her and she closes her eyes and puts her back toward the wall.

“In a minute.” She picks up the bottle of water and drinks some of it, which then ends up right in the toilet.

“I’m going to carry you upstairs,” I tell her, wanting to get out of this small bathroom and get her upstairs to mine.

“I’m afraid to move,” she confesses softly and I bend to take her in my arms. “I can walk.” She tries to get me to put her down.

“I’ve got you.” I tuck her closer to me and she lays her head on my chest as I walk up the stairs to my bedroom.

“Do you want to take a shower?” I ask her, placing her on the bed and she nods her head.

“I do.” She gets up and then falls back on the bed. “Whoa.” She extends her hands to the sides and I rush forward to catch her if she falls forward.

“Ariella,” I say her name, panic filling my voice.

“I’m okay, my head just was spinning.”

“Let me carry you to the bathroom.” I pick her up and she lets me, so I know she’s really not feeling well. I put her on the couch in the middle of the bathroom.

“I always wondered why you had an ottoman in here.” She tries to make a joke but then she looks at me and barely makes it to the toilet this time, and she vomits again.

I turn the water on in the shower. “We should call someone,” I tell her when she flushes the toilet and shakes her head. I sit on the ottoman watching her, feeling ready to rip the hair out of my head.

“It’s normal,” she says to me, holding the wall as she gets up. “I need to shower.” I get up and walk over to her. “Quickly,” she says, pulling her clothes off of her, she steps into the shower.

I don’t even have time to get undressed to step in and help her because she’s out of the shower, grabbing a towel.

She walks to the sink and grabs her toothbrush, the whole time all I can do is watch her.

“You going to be okay?” I ask her as my leg moves up and down when she stops mid-brush of her teeth and hangs her head.

“Yeah, just another wave,” she answers and then vomits in the sink.

I look up to the ceiling, feeling the tightness in my body. “I need to get into bed.” She wipes her mouth. “Do you have a garbage can?” she asks me and I stand up, walking to the side of the toilet and grabbing the wastebasket. “Oh, that one is fancy. Do you have another one?”

“Ari,” I growl, ready to throw it through a wall.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” She grabs one of my T-shirts from what I wore this morning and tosses it on the side of the bed, slipping it on before crawling in.

“We are going to talk about a lot of things tomorrow.” I sit at the side of the bed, rubbing her head and watching her eyes drift closed. “All the things.”