Page 14

Chapter 14

Gabi

T he crowd's roar is deafening as I sit on the edge of my seat, my heart pounding in sync with the game's frenetic pace.

Finally, we’re here. Game Five against New York. And it's a bloodbath out there.

After the Blades' dismal performance in Game Four, it's a wonder the team actually took home a win. With the series now at 3-1, all we need is one more win to secure our spot in the round.

A task that's proving to be easier said than done.

My eyes are glued to the ice, following every play with breathless anticipation. Gio is a powerhouse defenseman for the Blades and he’s giving it his all, but the New York team is a beast tonight.

"Come on, Gio!" I shout, my voice almost lost in the cacophony.

My hands are practically fused to the barrier in front of me, my knuckles white from gripping so hard.

This game isn't just a game.

It's a battle, and every pass, every block feels like it could decide the fate of the universe—or at least, my little corner of it.

As the Blades' head of PR, I know beating New York would be a media gold mine.

The headlines would shine, the fan base would roar even louder, and the whole city would be buzzing with pride.

Our image could use that boost, and I can't help but think of all the angles, the stories we could spin from a win tonight. But man, getting through this game feels like trying to skate uphill.

I catch a glimpse of Parker darting across the ice with that familiar intensity. My heart does a little flip, but I shove the feeling down, focusing on the game.

We need this win, and I need to keep my head in the right place. And off Jacob.

Cheering my heart out, I let the excitement and anxiety merge into one intense burst of energy. The Blades are close—so damn close—and I'm ready to see them break through.

"Let's go, Blades!" I yell, the words mixing with the crowd's rhythmic chants.

Tonight's game is a rollercoaster, and I'm strapped in tight, bracing for whatever twists and turns come next.

What I'm not ready for next is the person taking the seat beside me.

"You're really into this, aren't you?" a feminine voice cuts through my cheers.

I blink, momentarily confused by the hint of snark in the woman's tone.

Slowly, I turn to face her. It takes a couple of seconds for my brain to connect the dots, and then it hits me like a slap-shot that's going a hundred miles too damn fast.

It's Veronica Corso.

The wife of George Corso, the Blades' owner. And the woman Jacob was rumored to be canoodling with.

The recognition must show on my face because her red-painted lips curl into an amused smile. Her blonde hair is styled in perfect waves, framing her sharp features. She's wearing a designer dress and heels that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

I force a smile, squaring my shoulders as the movement will fortify me against whatever grenades Veronica's about to lob my way.

I keep my voice level. "I'm passionate about the team. Been a fan since I could walk."

"Hmm," Veronica replies, her eyes glinting like she's just been given a new toy to play with. "I guess that's true dedication. Tell me, how's your engagement going?"

"My...engagement?"

"Yes, darling." Her voice is a purr as she leans in too closely, as if sharing a secret with me. "To Jacob. The rink's been buzzing with the news. You must be thrilled."

"Uh, yeah," I say, trying to suppress the sarcasm clawing its way up my throat. "Super thrilled."

Her smile widens, and I can almost feel the temperature around us drop a few degrees. "He's quite a catch, Jacob. So charming, don't you think? All those muscles...quite the package."

"He has his moments."

Veronica’s chuckle is low and throaty, like she's just been told a particularly juicy piece of gossip. "I'm sure he does. Well, I suppose you two make sense." She waves a manicured hand toward the ice. "You’re both so...dedicated to this."

"Thanks...I think."

"Oh, don't thank me," she says, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Just looking out for our star player's best interests, you know?"

This time, I do roll my eyes. Just a little. "Mm, appreciate it."

"Oh, but darling. Don't worry. Jacob and I haven't actually slept together. Just thought you should know."

I blink at her, trying to process her words. Was that supposed to make me feel better?

"Good to know," I mumble, the sarcasm now fully unleashed. But Veronica isn't done playing her little game.

"Honestly, Gabi, you don't have to be all uptight. I can see through these things. Your little engagement...it's all just a show, isn't it?" Her words drip with faux sympathy, but her eyes say she knows. She knows this whole charade with Jacob is as flimsy as a house of cards in a hurricane.

My stomach churns, but my expression remains the same. "Believe what you want, Veronica."

Her lips curve into a catlike smile. "Oh, I do believe what I want. But good luck convincing everyone else. Especially Jacob." Her smiles widens but never reaches her eyes. She stands. "Well, enjoy the game, Gabi. I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Count on it," I mutter under my breath as she turns away, her heels clicking against the concrete like a ticking clock.

I watch her go, feeling a mix of annoyance and something else...

A sliver of doubt.

It's all falling apart. Our ruse. My sanity. My life.

But as I turn back to the ice, watching Gio glide across it with effortless grace, I can't help but think...maybe it's for the best. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake from the beginning.

Maybe I never should have accepted this job, this lie, this life.

It's a sentiment that stays with me even when Gio scores a goal, and the crowd erupts into cheers.

I should be celebrating. The goal turns the entire game around.

The Blades are skating circles around the other team, making this game look like a practice drill. Gio's on fire, and the crowd is roaring with every goal.

But Veronica's words hang over me like a dark cloud, smothering any joy within me.

Victory is in the air, but it tastes bitter now. I glance around the arena, watching everyone lost in their own bubbles of happiness.

Parents with their kids, friends high-fiving, even the guy selling pretzels looks like he just won the lottery.

The final buzzer sounds, signaling the Blades' win, and the crowd erupts into a frenzy of cheers and applause, but I can't bring myself to join in.

I make my way down to the locker room and find Gio already there, a towel draped around his neck as he chats with the trainer.

"Great game," I say, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"Yeah, it was," Gio replies with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "But you don't seem too happy about it."

I shrug. "Just tired, I guess."

He studies me for a moment before clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Well, thanks for coming, Gabs. You're like my good luck charm on the ice." He hugs me carefully before pulling back. "I only wish Jake's ass was here to see me score that hat trick."

I muster a smile and give him a nod. "I do, too."

He grins, looking more like himself, and turns back to his conversation with the trainer. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to push away the complicated mess of thoughts swirling in my mind.

With one last look around the bustling locker room, I slip out the door and into the humid night air.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in my ears, a strange contrast to the stillness outside. I head to my car, ready to go home and forget about the game.

But as I start the engine and pull out of the parking lot, I can't help but feel like something is missing. The excitement from the win should be enough to carry me through the rest of the night, but I can't shake this feeling of emptiness.

And then it hits me.

Jacob would have been at this game. He would have been skating beside Gio and celebrating with us afterward.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the driveway of my suburban Chicago townhome. I turn off the engine and sit for a moment, just breathing. I sigh deeply as I reach for my keys, the cool metal oddly grounding in my palm.

Walking up to my front door, a wave of resignation passes over me.

Jacob's silence after my confession about his paternity hits me hard. It's like a door closing forever, locking away any hope I had that we could mend things.

The thought of mourning the end of whatever we had brings my mind to the dark chocolate that's been sitting in my kitchen for days, waiting for the perfect moment of indulgence.

Maybe tonight is that night.

With a faint, humorless chuckle and shake of my head, I fumble with my keys, only to promptly drop them right by the welcome mat.

Of course. Just my luck.

Bending down these days feels like trying to win a gold medal in gymnastics…impossible and slightly ridiculous.

I place one hand on my swollen belly for balance and crouch down, grunting with the effort.

Just as my fingers brush the cool metal, someone else's hand swoops in, picking up the keys.

I flinch, glancing up, my breath hitching as I meet a pair of familiar eyes. Eyes I would recognize anywhere.

Eyes belonging to Jacob.

He's standing right in front of me, looking just as he did the last time I saw him, except now there's a soft black cast wrapped around one of his wrists...and there's softness in his gaze that wasn't there before.

He blinks down at me, his aqua-blue irises filled with something I can't quite decipher. "Need some help?"

I straighten up—well, as much as a woman at seven months pregnant can—and take the keys from him, our fingers grazing ever so slightly.

I exhale. "I think I do."

"Good." He nods. "Because I'm not sure how much longer I could've watched you struggle without jumping in. And I mean that in every way possible, Gabs."

I can't help but smile, despite the situation. "Well, thanks for sparing me your judgmental stares, then."

"Anytime." His eyes grin even if his mouth doesn't. He looks towards my front door and back. "So...are you going to let me in or what?"