Page 20 of Power Play (Titans Hockey #2)

Chapter seventeen

Garrett

I f I thought I couldn't hate myself more, I'd just found a new low. Lacey told me yesterday she could be pregnant with my kid, and what did I do? I literally ran away. I really am the piece of shit my dad thinks I am. And I'm the fuck up my team thinks I am.

But a baby? A partner? A child? I wouldn't know the first thing about taking care of a baby or raising a child.

Co-parenting with Lacey? It would be a fucking disaster, and I would have to watch her grow more and more disappointed with me.

Lacey's the only one in the fucking world who thinks I'm not a total fuck up.

Even our hate fuck was warranted. I'd been riled up by a phone call from my father’s lawyer, reminding me of the situation I'm in, and Tracey had been following me around like a lost puppy all day. I'd needed an outlet, and she'd been an easy target.

But what I wasn't expecting was how much it affected me.

I've fucked plenty of women in the past. But I've never hate fucked up against an elevator wall.

It was so raw, passionate, and primal. I'd spun both of us up so tight and twisted, we'd exploded with sexual chemistry.

It was dirty and fast and hard. And something about it has changed my DNA.

I want that. Over and over and over again.

I'd already been planning to get her riled up when I went into her office yesterday, hoping for an in-house angry fuck against the wall.

What I was not planning on, though, is her news. Pregnant. With a baby. A tiny, fragile little baby .

Shame has been washing over me in waves.

I didn't sleep at all last night. But at least Coach and Ben are good men.

They stepped up. They'll take care of her and the baby.

The idea of another man taking care of my baby, though, makes me uneasy.

Will they take care of it the same if it does turn out to be mine? Fuck, I hope so.

"Jonesy!" Coach Ward shouts as I hit the ice.

I wince. I skate over to where he's sitting in the box.

"Blue line drill. Everyone else work on the nets."

I'm being punished. The blue line drill is where we skate as fast and hard as we can between the blue lines in sprints. It's also called bag skating because of how goddamn tired you are at the end of it.

But he's the coach. I watch as the rest of my team dump pucks towards the goals on opposite sides, giving me sideways glances. They know Coach is punishing me, but they don't know why. I look at Ben. He looks down. He knows why Coach is punishing me.

But what choice do I have? If I push back, he'll bench me.

With a sigh, I push off and start the drill.

After fifteen breath-stealing minutes of skating, I look at Coach, looking for a reprieve, but he only has eyes for me.

He's standing at the bench, large arms crossed in front of his large chest, staring.

His whistle hangs just below his forearms, but he looks like he's not going to blow it anytime soon.

My thighs are quivering, my knees are killing me.

Sweat is pouring down my face. We skate like this during games, but our lines are only ever out for a few minutes at a time before we're back on the bench relaxing.

No one does this kind of intensity for this length of time.

Oh, fuck .

I abandon my drill as I realize my breakfast is about to make a reappearance.

I skate to the boards where I know a large trash can lives, letting the boards stop my approach before I bend over the boards and hurl.

Three more heaves and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

Fuck, it's been a while since I threw up at a practice.

The last time was because I was hungover, not running sprints.

Coach appears next to me. "Don't bother lacing up for tomorrow's game. You're benched for the rest of the season."

Panic shoots through me as I look up. His face is deadly serious. He's angry, disappointed, and on the warpath.

"But you can't do that! I have to play!" My voice is whiny even to myself.

"No, you don't. But you do have to own your mistakes and man up. I employ men on this team, not boys, so until you figure out how to become a man, you can sit your ass down."

Just then, I spot Lacey over Coach's shoulder. Her shocked expression makes the shame reappear.

She walks to Coach's side, putting a delicate hand on his arm.

"Don't do that, Scott." She looks at me briefly, and I spot the hurt in her eyes. Hurt that I caused. Hurt that I put there. So, my choices were, hurt the only girl now who ever saw something in me, or watch her as she gradually gets more and more disappointed with me.

What a fucking catch-22.

Then I think about a child, looking at me with that same disappointment and want to throw up all over again.

And the even shittier thing? She's coming to my rescue now, when I couldn't bother to even hear her out yesterday .

She speaks quietly, to avoid anyone else overhearing her. "Scott. I don't want him bullied into being with me or this child. That's not how this is going to work. He's made his choice; you can't punish him for that."

"The fuck I can't. I don't care whatever man-child shit he has going on at home, but when it comes into this arena and something that affects this team, you better bet I'm going to punish him until he grows a fucking pair."

He spins on her, directing his anger at her and in an instant, I'm pissed I'm on this side of the boards. She doesn't deserve his anger. I do. I want his anger back on me.

"Hey, asshole," he spins on me again and I flinch. "You don't speak to her that way."

I have no idea what I'm doing, but when Coach turns on me again, I'm grateful the heat is off of Lacey. I expect him to take a swing at me for disrespecting him, or trade me, or make me bag skate again, but there's a wicked smile on his face instead.

And then I suddenly understand. He's satisfied I stood up for her and wanted to defend her.

"Go shower. You're done for the day."

Frustrated, I stomp off the ice and into the locker room.

I toss my helmet against the stall. I'm feeling out of control, running scared, and so goddamn confused.

I can't tell which way is up. I can't tell if I'm coming or going.

Will I be benched? Traded? Humiliated? What happens when it comes out that the kid might be mine and I refuse to take care of it?

I run my hands through my sweat-slicked hair. I could pay child support? Hire her a nanny? Help out in other ways ?

I smack my tongue along the roof of my mouth. I still taste the faint hint of vomit. Gross. I pull off my gear, shower, and brush my teeth with my finger above the sink. It'll have to do until I can get home.

When I exit the bathroom, Coach and Ben are waiting for me. My hackles go up immediately. I don't need to be reminded how much of a failure and asshole I'm being right now. I don't need to be reminded that they're actually good men who do the right thing and I'm the fuck up. The man-child.

Without meeting their eyes, I go about packing up my things to leave.

Coach is the first to talk.

"I don't know why you're running scared right now, but I do have something to say to you."

I wince. He's not wrong. I am running scared. I pause, waiting for the rest of the dressing down. "But you're in this now. So why don't you explain what's going through your head?"

I sigh before collapsing on the hard wooden bench. My thighs are grateful for the relief.

I run my hands through my damp hair again as I try to put together my thoughts. Ben looks down at me, leaning against the wall, with an impassive look on his face.

"I wouldn't know the first thing about how to be a good partner. A good parent." I confess, staring a hole into the carpet between my feet.

"No one knows what they're doing until they do it." Coach replies.

"What if..." I look up at him with raw vulnerability.

These men are going to raise my child if I back out.

I have to be raw and real with them. They deserve it.

They stepped up when I couldn't. "What if I fail?

I'm a fuck up. A man-child. You know it, I know it, everyone on this goddamn team knows it. "

"Except for Lacey."

I wince. God, was I really going to let her raise my child alone?

But he's not done. "I know you think you’re going to fail, but you’ve got something a lot of guys don’t—Lacey believes in you. Hell, I’ve seen it. She doesn’t give her trust lightly, Jonesy. Don’t waste it."

I wring my hands together. I feel like a child being scolded. Anxious nausea settles in my stomach and my heart starts pounding in my chest. I'm getting lightheaded.

"What if she hates me at the end of it?" I whisper.

Ward's quiet, and it's all the answer I need. He thinks she will. Fuck, I feel hot tears start to prick my eyelids.

"But what if she doesn't?" Ben replies, finally speaking up. I look up at him to see genuine compassion in his eyes.

I have no answer.

"What if she ends up falling in love with you, and you fall in love with this child? What if it all works out in the end?"

I think about the scenario for a moment. I've never fallen in love with someone, but I think I believe Ben when I think it could be her. She's kind, caring, compassionate, and she sees me as someone worth her time. She trusted me with her body.

"I'm scared," I whisper.

Coach slaps a hand on my shoulder. "You've never had to grow up and learn how to become a man.

But you're not in this alone. Ski and I will be there to help you.

We can teach you how to be the partner and father they deserve.

Being a man means stepping up. Doing the scary thing anyway because it's the right thing to do. "

I stare back down at the floor. Could I do that? Would they actually help? And not just assume I'm going to fuck it all up?

"She has an OB-GYN appointment tomorrow at three. At Women's Health of NC. If you're there, we know you're in it with us. If you're not there, I will be requesting we trade you. That woman in there doesn't deserve to be reminded of the man who could fuck her but couldn't be there for her."

And with that ultimatum, Coach and Ski left me alone with my thoughts.