Page 4 of Slashed By You (Chicago Steel #5)

Chapter 4

Josh

T he next weeks fly by. When I’m in town, Kayla and I try to squeeze in as many dates as possible. Since it’s still new, we’re doing our best to navigate this situation. I’ll often grab dinner, and she’ll come over to my place. We’ve both tried to get to know each other better, but we don’t have much in common. She keeps insisting that we just need to start officially dating, but I’m not sure how that will make everything less awkward or uncomfortable between us.

To make matters worse, Kayla keeps pushing me. According to her, we’ll be fine if we go public. I disagree fully. At this point, I’m not ready to advertise our relationship or whatever the hell we are. I fully understand that once she’s showing, we’ll have to make some sort of statement, but until then, I’m keeping quiet. And she wants to start having sex. Sex is harder for me to explain. For now, it’s off the table. It may sound heartless, but in my mind, Kayla was a one and done. And now she’s carrying my child. My brain is taking a while to catch up. To be honest, it’s a complete mindfuck.

While I’m traveling, which is most of the time, we have limited communication. It’s nothing like I imagined a couple being. And I guess that’s what we are—a couple—but I don’t really know. It’s the start of March and in a few weeks, I’m scheduled to be home for two weeks in a row. Kayla has scheduled her first OB appointment during that time because she’ll be twelve weeks along.

A few weeks after she told me she was pregnant, I downloaded some “what to expect” books and I’m reading them in my downtime. I haven’t told anyone what’s going on because I can’t seem to say it out loud. My teammates are some of my closest friends and I’m not ready to share this with them. The books have been my own only support and, so far, they’ve been very informative. As far as I understand, at this upcoming appointment, the doctor will confirm her pregnancy and the official due date. Kayla will have blood drawn and possibly undergo an ultrasound. Seeing my little baby will be surreal, and the confirmation I need.

Because of our situation, I’m struggling to fully accept the truth of it. Blame my past and that I don’t trust easily or the fact I used a condom, but without seeing a positive pregnancy test, I can’t fully accept it. As I’ve gotten to know Kayla better, I really want to believe her, and this appointment will solidify everything for me.

***

The weeks before her appointment drug by painfully slow. Finally, the day arrived and I was filled with anxiety. Tomorrow was the big day. When the team bus finally pulls into the arena parking lot, I’m exhausted after our late flight from Ottawa. We’d been there to play a series against the Wolves, and we split it, as I expected. Before the team can disembark, I give a quick pep talk.

“Make it fast, Cap, please,” Conner begs. He has a new baby at home, and from what I’ve heard, they’re a lot of work. Despite that, every day at practice, he remains positive, regardless of his exhaustion. He’s working his ass off to be everything for everybody. I need to remember that. He’s an outstanding role model.

Giving him a head nod, I keep my message short and simple. “Guys, I’m really proud of the hockey we played this weekend. Let’s not lose the momentum we’re building. Tomorrow morning, we have skate, tapes, and weights. See you at ten. Thank you, Coach, for those extra hours. Use them wisely.” Each of my teammates gives me a fist bump before exiting the bus.

When I pull up to my house half an hour later, I’m surprised to see Kayla’s Navigator. We have plans for tomorrow night, but I wasn’t expecting to see her today. Worry stabs at my heart. I jump out of my Tesla and jog over to the driver’s side of her SUV. She isn’t in there. My worry morphs into panic. Should I call the cops? Where is she? Looking up at my deck, I wonder if she’s on the steps. No, but I notice something else. My lights are on. That’s weird. Moving swiftly to my front door, I check it. It’s locked and doesn’t look like it’s been tampered with. Since I was out of town, I know I didn’t leave the lights on. The only other person who has a key is Maria, my housecleaner, and she’s more conscientious than that. Who’s in my house?

Unlocking the front door, I quietly tiptoe inside, hoping I don’t find a thief or worse. My heart is pounding in my chest and sweat runs down my back. I shout, “I’ve called the cops and they’re on their way. You need to show yourself and leave immediately if you want to avoid any trouble.” Why the fuck, when I had the interior designer in here, did I not have my house wired with a security system?

“Josh, is that you?” a sleepy voice calls out from upstairs. Trying to place the voice, I know it’s familiar. Then I remember. Kayla’s car is in the driveway. It has to be her. But how did she get inside? I never gave her a key.

“Kayla?” I ask, confusion thick in my words.

Stepping down the stairs is Kayla, and she’s dressed only in one of my Steel shirts, showcasing her naked thighs. Usually, I’d be happy to see her, but now I’m concerned. “Kayla, why are you here? In my house? Dressed in just my shirt?”

Saying nothing, Kayla continues her descent down the stairs like it’s completely normal for her to be here. As she nears, I notice her eyes are puffy and red. Has she been crying? And what happened to her hair? Her normally well-styled blond hair looks like it’s being used for a bird’s nest. Every day her appearance is striking. However, today it’s not in a good way. Fear churns through my body. What is going on? I’ve never seen Kayla looking like this. She’s all about designer clothes, perfect hair, and flawless makeup. She’d never let anyone see her like this. Not if she could help it.

As she steps closer, I realize she’s crying, and I pull her into my arms. “What’s wrong, Kayla? Please, tell me.” Minutes go by and the only answer I get is her sniffling and whimpering against my chest. Leaning down, I pick her up and carry her over to my sofa, grabbing a box of tissues off the counter. Kayla’s petite body clings to me. Something is definitely wrong. “Here you go,” I softly say while offering her a few tissues. Once she’s cleaned herself up a bit, she pushes off my chest, looking distraught.

“Kayla, what’s wrong?” I ask again, worry plaguing my voice.

She doesn’t answer, just sniffles. This is my first time being in a situation like this, and I feel completely helpless. Instead of saying anything, I just hug her tightly and rest my head on hers. Is this about the baby? Just the thought of that makes me shudder. Lifting my head draws her attention, and she looks up at me with sad blue eyes. Grasping my words, I force down my fears and rasp, “Does this have anything to do with the baby? Is the b-baby… Is the baby okay?”

Just thinking about anything happening to my baby shreds me. Waiting for an answer, my heart thumps wildly in my chest and tears well in my eyes. Am I being silly getting this upset? It’s hard for me to understand my feelings. How do I care about something I haven’t even met? But I do. I’d barely gotten used to the idea of having a child, and now I’m unsure what is happening. In hardly any time at all, I’ve accepted I’m going to be a father. Even though it wasn’t something I planned for, I’m stoked. Kayla doesn’t know, but I’m planning to ask her to move in with me. I’ve done some major thinking, and Kayla’s right. Our baby needs one hundred percent of us, and the only way we can do this is together.

“Kayla, sweetheart, please tell me what’s wrong. You’re killing me.”

Burying her head into my chest, she gives a muffled response. Only catching part of it, I recognize, the word mad . Why would I be mad?

Nudging her head up, I calmly tell her, “The only way I’ll be mad at you is if you lied to me or cheated on me.” Her blue eyes, luminous and sad, flicker to mine and away again, some flash of emotion held within that I don’t get time to decipher. “Did you do either of those things?” I ask while staring at her, my eyes assessing for anything suspicious. I hate that I do this, but I’ve always struggled to trust. Nothing registers as Kayla shakes her head no. “So, what am I going to be mad about? When we talked yesterday, you seemed fine. What’s happened since then?”

Kayla tries to bury her head again, but I don’t let her. Using her chin, I lift her face to mine, forcing her to tell me.

“Josh, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes with a whimper.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?”

“The baby… I lost the baby. Yesterday, I was bleeding and cramping after our call, and I miscarried. I am so sorry.” Her words register, but it’s like they bounce off of me, refusing to be absorbed. My body is completely numb and I can’t figure out why. I wipe my hands across my face and they come back wet, which confuses me more.

Kayla shifts in my lap and retrieves a tissue. My vision blurs and my chest feels like it’s being constricted. My stomach rolls and quakes, and I’m certain that at any moment I’m going to throw up. But this isn’t just about me. Looking at Kayla, I want to make sure she’s all right. “What can I do for you?” I step closer as my mind whirls with ways I can take care of her. “Can I run you a bath? Do anything for you? Are you in any pain?” Pain lances through my chest every time I think about the baby. Chastising myself, I remember that I’m not the only one grieving. My eyes connect with Kayla’s and I consider all that she might be feeling. “Do you need me to just hold you?” A smile appears on her lips, but it’s all wrong. It’s too happy. Why isn’t she as torn up about this as I am?

For me, the grief I’m experiencing courses through my body, affecting every part of me. There is no way to recover from this kind of loss. An unspoken dream, hope, and wish. Forever a masterpiece that will remain unfinished or titled.So why does she look unbothered? Maybe she’s in shock?

I wrap my arms around her tightly. As I hold her, my mind remembers the last few weeks. I’d finally come to terms with the fact I was going to be a father. I was at peace with it. But now that’s gone. I feel a tear fall down my cheek. That doesn’t matter anymore, because it will never be. Our baby is no more. Losing my grandfather didn’t hurt as badly as this does. It feels like my heart’s been ripped from my chest, and all I feel is empty.

I don’t know how long I sit there—minutes, hours, days? Time has stopped, and I know when it finally resumes, it’ll never be the same. I’ll forever be missing a part of myself. One that can never be replaced.

Warm hands on my forearm let me know that I’m still alive even though my baby isn’t. All along, I hoped it would be a boy so I could teach him to skate and play hockey. I would be the father mine never was. But that dream’s been shattered, just like my heart.

“Josh, I have a glass of water for you.” The voice registers as Kayla’s, but the lack of emotion in it has me confused. Didn’t she just tell me she miscarried our baby yesterday? Wasn’t I just holding her on my lap as she cried? Why does she now seem unaffected?

Forcing myself to focus, I take in her appearance. She’s still dressed in only my shirt. I notice it looks like there is nothing underneath. That’s odd.

“Let’s get you upstairs and into a shower. The hot water will make you feel better.” Not following her rationale, but understanding I can’t stay on my couch forever. Feeling numb, I push to my feet. Heading upstairs, when I get to my room, I stop. It looks different. Unlike days ago, multicolored throw pillows and a fancy new comforter I’ve never seen before now cover my king-sized bed. Kayla leads me into the en suite bath, and while she steps into the large shower to turn it on, I notice it too looks different. It’s more decorative than when I left. The towels all match and the countertop is covered with lotions and candles. WTF?

“Let’s get you ready for a shower, big guy.” Kayla steps to me and grabs the hem of my shirt. Like a toddler, I lift my arms, and while she stands on her tiptoes, she tugs it off. Next go my pants. She kneels down in front of me and slowly unzips my jeans, sliding them down my legs. Stepping clear, I kick them aside. Still on her knees, she looks up at me through her lashes, and everything goes sideways. Am I seeing this? Kayla licks her lips and stares at my covered cock. My stomach rolls when she begins to eagerly pull down my boxer briefs. What am I missing? To her dismay, my very flaccid cock hangs there, looking as weepy as I feel. On normal days, a desirable woman on her knees before me would get me hard in seconds, but today is not a normal day. As far as I’m concerned, my cock might as well be broken. That bastard got me into this mess. The dumb fuck broke my heart.

Grunting something unintelligible, I trudge past Kayla and step into the hot, steamy shower spray. Standing there with my head submerged under the water, my heart aches.

It startles me when I feel something brush against my back. Small hands wrap around my biceps and before I know it, Kayla’s large, fake breasts push into my back and her hip bones rub up against my ass. What is she doing?

Whipping around quickly catches her off guard, but she recovers quickly by throwing her arms around my neck and pulling our bodies tightly together. This feels wrong. We had sex once, the night she got pregnant, and that was the last time I’d been with anyone. Even though I’m grief stricken and probably in need of some talk therapy, my cock decides that he’s suddenly all in for some touch therapy. Huh. What do you know… maybe he isn’t broken. Kayla notices and reaches for me, stroking my growing length from root to tip. She has a firm hold and is stroking at the perfect pace. My mind is no longer thinking about anything other than my now rock-hard cock.

“Do you need some relief, Josh? I know you’re hurting. So am I. And the only thing that will make my pain go away is to be close to you. Because you… you are the only one who understands what I’ve lost.” Nodding my agreement, I go willingly when she pulls me into a kiss. Unlike the gentleness I expected, Kayla’s aggressive, nipping and biting at my lower lip. Pulling back to get a breath, she moans and says, “Take away my pain, Josh. Help me feel something good.” Her words trigger something deep within me, channeling not only my intense pain but my anger at what I’ve lost. Harnessing that, I push Kayla up against the wall. When she hits it, her eyes go wide in surprise. Then she smiles, but it isn’t sweet. Shaking my head, I push it away. Bending down, I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist. Pressing her back to the wall, I don’t give her any warning before I push into her, thrusting hard until I bottom out.

When I register the pressure of her muscles squeezing me, I savor the shocked gasps falling from her lips. Removing myself almost completely earns me a whimper, and I reward it by shoving back in with more force. Setting a feverish pace, I push her legs up and change the depth of my thrust. The telltale signs of an orgasm begin within her body and I keep my rapid pace. Holy fuck. She screams as her muscles squeeze my cock hard and then she slumps against the wall. Knowing she’s had hers, I decide it’s my turn to feel good. Sliding a hand between us, I flick her clit and she releases another moan that sets my blood on fire. After she succumbs to another orgasm, I feel a familiar tug in my balls. Immediately, I pull out and set her down. I stroke my cock until my orgasm tears through me, spills from my body, and washes down the drain.

Kayla stands against the shower wall with a look of regret on her face. Oh shit. I tug my hands through my damp hair. We shouldn’t have done that. Would having sex after a miscarriage hurt her? And I wasn’t even wearing a fucking condom. What if I’d gotten her pregnant again? Worry swims in my head. Is that even possible? It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t thinking.

Reaching out, I ask, “Are you okay? I know I was pretty rough. Did I hurt you?”

Kayla shakes her head, hiding her emotions from me. Not buying that she’s okay, I try another approach. “Listen, Kayla, I’m sorry for what just happened. I should have been more thoughtful about what your body’s going through. Do you need to go to the hospital and get checked out?” Did I make things worse? Dread fills my gut. I don’t know anything about miscarriages and how fast a woman’s body recovered.

I turn off the water, waiting for her answer. She looks distant. It’s like she’s here, but not really. She finally answers me by shaking her head no. Believing she knows her body best, I decide to give her space. Drying off, I head back out to my bedroom and over to my walk-in closet, and stop. Hanging up, neatly organized, is an excessive amount of what I can only assume is Kayla’s clothing. What the fuck? The more I look around my closet, the madder I get. And then I remember everything Kayla’s been through in the last day, and my anger goes from a red-hot boil to a simmer. There’s probably an explanation. It looks like she just moved in without even any discussion. That knowledge sits like a boulder in my stomach. When did all this happen? After the news I just received about the baby, the grief shower fuck, and coming off the two-weekend series, I’m exhausted and all I want is my bed. Snagging a pair of clean boxer briefs from my dresser, I pull them up before I move to what I think is still my bed. Shoving pillows out of the way, I pull back the comforter and find that not even my sheets are the same. WTF? I growl but decide I’ll deal with it tomorrow.

B ut I don’t. And before I know it, months have passed, and the season is over. I barely survived it. Ever since Kayla told me she lost the baby, things have been off for me. That horrible night, I became numb, and it hasn’t changed. The best way to describe it is I’ve been on auto-pilot, doing the minimum just to survive. Drifting through life. And Kayla has remained in the periphery. She’s resumed her life. She’s going out, shopping. shooting lives for social media, laughing, and having fun. Apparently, at some point, she moved into my house. And we still haven’t had any conversation about it. She loves the WAG status it comes with, and I realize having her around makes it less lonely. But it’s all for show. We sleep in the same bed, but ever since that night—ever since I grief fucked her and then refused to come inside her—I haven’t touched her. And don’t think she hasn’t tried.

Kayla has become my platonic buffer for everything. My plus one, making social obligations less awkward. She loves to get dressed up and go to events the Steel’s either hosting or involved with. Over the past months, my teammates have started calling Kayla a WAG, which she loves. She is the closest thing I have to a girlfriend—without the benefit of sex. But only she and I know that. If my teammates found out, it would guarantee unwanted conversations. So, I let the lie continue and allow people to make all the assumptions they want. She could sleep with the entire team and I wouldn’t care. As long as she leaves me alone.

C arrying our lie becomes too easy, and now, after two years, we are pros at it. I notice that some of my teammates don’t really like Kayla, but she’s not that big of a problem. Really? Yes, she’s opinionated and high maintenance, but if you let her have her way, she’s not too terrible. At least, that’s what I do to keep the peace in my life. There is no shame in my game. We aren’t serious, or at least I’m not. Yes, she lives with me, but I’m gone most of the year and it’s nice to come home to a clean house.

I can hardly believe it’s been two years since we lost the baby and she moved in with me. Thankfully, most of the time we’ve gotten along fine. I know Kayla is more than capable of drama, so I do my best to avoid it. I’ve had one too many conversations with her about what people say about her on social media to know she’s kind of scary.And I don’t want that directed at me.

During our time together, we’ve had a couple of tense moments between us. Every time, it’s how she disregarded my privacy to post something on social media about me. I have always been a private guy, and I prefer to stay off everyone’s radar, but it seems sometimes Kayla can’t help herself. That or she doesn’t care that it bothers me. One too many times, one of my teammates shows up to practice ranting about something Kayla has said about the team or the guys individually. And at the beginning of our relationship, the guys assumed she got her opinions from me.Since then, I’ve had to do some major back-peddling and explaining that’s not the case, just to maintain my relationships.

Over the past two years, that we’ve been “together,” the Steel won the Stanley Cup once and playoffs for this year are already underway. And just like always, Kayla is in the family box, cheering us on and going live for all her followers. It’s because of this, she causes the most trouble with my friends. If she’s not infringing on people’s space and trying to get the perfect picture, then she isn’t happy. She acts like she’s better than everyone else. At least that’s what Samantha tells Lucas, and he tells me . It would cause too much drama to break up, so I just ignore her and tell everyone to do the same. I know it’s the chicken-shit way of dealing with it, but I don’t have the energy to end things right now. Maybe in the off-season?

The other issue that always causes controversy for us is what she says about us as a couple. She likes to talk up the relationship, pretending it’s something it isn’t. We both know she’s full of shit. I don’t make any of the romantic gestures she gives me credit for, and I certainly don’t call her pet names like K-bear. Yes, she’s at big events, always my plus one, always dressed perfectly as we walk the red carpet. For only those evenings, I allow her to hang on my arm and appear like we couldn’t be happier. But it’s all a farce. She knows that’s the price for staying with me and having me covering the bills of her lavish lifestyle.

A few months before the playoffs, and needing a break from life, I mention taking a vacation. I mean for it to be a trip by myself, but Kayla takes the idea and runs with it. Not only does she invite herself on it, but she books us an expensive vacation in the Bahamas. I know I’m in deep, but I don’t know how to get out. Not having time to think about it, I focus all my energy on the Cup. It must work, because we win, for the second year in a row.