Page 21 of The Unexpected Lineup (Lost in Translation #2)

YOU’RE SO OUT OF HIS LEAGUE

RASMUS

W e pull up to the cabin after five, the sky shifting from pale gray to deep indigo. Haisley stretches the moment I park, having napped some of the drive.

“I expected something smaller when you said a cabin. But it’s more like a second home,” she says dreamily, admiring the place. “I can’t wait to see the inside.”

I chuckle, climbing out and grabbing our bags from the back. “It’s nothing fancy, but it does the job.”

The air bites at us as we make our way up the steps, our boots crunching against the frosted wood. I unlock the door and push it open, flipping on the light as she slips past me, curiosity pulling her deeper inside.

Her eyes roam the place—the old timber beams, the stone fireplace, the kitchen tucked into the open living space—and her expression softens. “This is so cozy. I love it.”

“I’m glad. You’re one of the few people to see it. ”

“Really? I’m honored,” her voice quiets as she takes in the space again. “There’s something calming about it.”

I set her bag down near the door, noticing the way her fingers graze the back of the couch as she walks past. “Yeah, it’s always been my escape. My life can be overwhelming. But here, it’s different.”

“I can tell. This place has a soul to it, you know?”

The comment makes me smile, because she’s right. “Definitely. Let me show you the bedrooms upstairs. We both have our own.”

She meets my eyes for a beat before looking away, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Lead the way.”

I gesture toward the stairs, feeling a little nervous under her gaze. It’s strange, showing someone else the space that has only ever been mine. But something about the way she looks at this place, how she appreciates the little details, makes it feel right.

We settle in after the tour. I throw a couple of logs into the woodstove and get the fire going on the fireplace as well while she unpacks the snacks and drinks from the car. The place warms up, filling with the scent of burning pine.

After the dinner I cooked for us, Haisley sinks into the couch with a soft sigh, curling her legs under a blanket. Her head rests against the back, her golden hair spilling over the cushions. The exhaustion is unmistakable, worrying me a bit.

“Are you feeling okay?”

She looks up with heavy-lidded eyes. “Oh, this demon baby is draining every last drop of life from me just like a little parasite would. No biggie. ”

“Demon baby?” I get out between my laughs. “I can’t believe you called our unborn child that.”

“That’s what I call them whenever I’m unhappy with them.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

She shifts, tucking the blanket tighter around herself. “We could watch a movie or something. I don’t know how long I’ll stay up, though.”

“Would you like some popcorn and Legally Blonde ?”

“I would love that.”

I wouldn’t have picked this movie myself, but if it makes her happy and gives her even some comfort she needs, I’ll sit through an hour and a half of pink outfits, cheesy lines, and legal jargon.

I pop a bag of popcorn into the microwave while she scrolls through the streaming services to find the movie. The sound of kernels bursting fills the quiet, along with the occasional soft sigh from the couch.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

I grab a couple of water bottles and set the popcorn on the coffee table. “Thinking about what?”

“I’m watching Legally Blonde , one of my all-time favorite movies, with you. I don’t know…it feels nice.”

“Yeah, it does.” I settle in beside her and she hits play.

The movie moves quickly, and soon enough, Elle Woods’ asshole ex-boyfriend shows up. I remember this part—not exactly a cinematic masterpiece—but something about watching it with her makes it all feel different. There’s a comfort in the predictability of the plot.

Haisley lets out an annoyed huff. “Ugh. What a terrible excuse for a human being,” she mutters.

“Yeah. I know bad exes too well.”

She turns to me, eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

I could brush it off or change the subject. But we need to have this talk if we’re going to raise a kid together.

“Petra.”

Haisley blinks, confused. “Petra?”

“My last ex,” I clarify. “She worked for the Lynx front office. We dated for a few months, and it got complicated. Real fast.”

“How complicated are we talking?”

“Three months in, she started hinting at moving in together and discussing future plans. To her, it was a done deal: wedding, kids, and all that. I wasn’t ready.

Not with her.” Shifting my weight, I rub the back of my neck as the uncomfortable memories surface.

“I also started noticing other things. She was more interested in the WAG life than in me. Always looking for more visibility, especially on social media, making sure we were seen at the right places.” I shake my head remembering all those photographs.

“I broke up with her. But it didn’t go well. ”

Haisley watches me carefully. “She’s giving me major red flag energy.”

“She slashed the tires on my car,” I say bluntly. “ All the fucking tires.”

Her mouth falls open. “What? ”

“Yeah. She got fired from the organization after that, but the media spun it into some poor scorned woman narrative, making me play the role of the asshole.”

“Oh my, I remember hearing about this!”

“Of course you did. Being the Princess of Hockey and all.”

“Hush you.” She playfully nudges me. “But damn, that’s unhinged.”

“I know,” I agree. “I asked for the trade partly because of her.”

Haisley goes quiet. The glow from the TV flickers over her face, her lips pressed together as she absorbs my words.

“That makes so much sense,” she finally says. “I wondered why you left Minnesota. You were so established there.”

I lean back against the couch cushions. “It wasn’t the only reason. But it was part of it. I needed a fresh start. A clean break.”

Elle’s in the middle of her transformation on the screen, proving everyone wrong in her perfectly over-the-top way. But I can tell Haisley is still caught up in our earlier conversation.

“Do you ever worry about that happening again?” She asks when the scene changes in the movie.

“What, a crazy ex slashing my tires?”

She shoots me a flat look. “I meant getting trapped in something you don’t want. Feeling like you’re losing control of your own life.”

I let her words roll around in my mind. I know she’s not talking about Petra anymore. Maybe she’s talking about us, about the pregnancy. About the way our lives are shifting into something we never expected .

That’s why I don’t answer right away. Because, yeah, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about losing control over my future. But it’s not the same.

“With Petra, I knew from early on that something felt off. That I wasn’t what she truly wanted.” I look at her then, making sure she hears what I’m really saying. “With you, it’s different.”

Her throat bobs in a swallow. “How?”

“Because from the start, it was evident you weren’t after my money or fame.”

She shifts, resting her head against my shoulder. “I like that answer.”

I breathe her in, and the scent of her shampoo and something so Haisley fills my senses.

The movie keeps playing, filling the room with Elle Woods’ unrelenting optimism.

But I can still feel the weight of our conversation hanging in the air.

Haisley’s breathing is steady against my shoulder, but she’s not asleep.

Then, out of nowhere, she says, “I’m known for dating hockey players.”

My entire body locks up. “Do you mean players in the League?”

“Yes.” Her voice is almost a whisper. “My last ex is Lewis Farrington. We dated briefly.”

I blink. And then I blink again because what the fuck?

“You dated him ?” My voice is sharper than I mean it to be, but it’s Farrington. One of the biggest pieces of shit on skates. A guy with a reputation for being cocky, entitled, and enough of a jerk that no one’s surprised when he does something out of line. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. For six months or so. ”

I have to look away. The thought of him anywhere near her makes my blood boil. I press my hands into my thighs to stop from clenching them. My mind runs ahead of me, filling in blanks I don’t want to see. It’s irrational, and I know it, but the jealousy burns anyway.

“How did that even happen?” I barely get out. “You’re so out of his league.”

Haisley groans and drags a hand over her face.

“I don’t know. We met through mutual friends, and he was different at first. He put on the charm, and it worked.

And then, little by little, the real him came out.

He didn’t respect my career, telling me my job was a silly hobby while his was real work.

He got possessive in ways that weren’t about affection. It was about control.”

I exhale slowly, forcing down the flare of protectiveness in my chest. “Sounds like him.”

“Tell me about it.” Haisley toys with the edge of the blanket. “I wasn’t planning on telling you. But since you told me about Petra, I thought you should know.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to worry about him. I was done with him long before we officially ended.”

That should ease my mind, but it doesn’t. Not fully. The thought of Farrington in her orbit bothers me more than I want to admit.

“Glad to hear it,” I manage.

Haisley watches me carefully. “Ras…You’ve been off since I brought this up. I get that you don’t like him, but this feels bigger than disliking the guy. ”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’re thinking about something else.”

Of course she’d figure it out. “It’s probably stupid and I’m overreacting.”

“Try me.”

Drawing a deep breath, I get mentally ready to share my thoughts and choose my next words with care.

“I think Farrington’s the kind of guy who’d sell out his own mother if it got him attention.

And I’ve seen what it’s like when people twist the truth to take someone down,” I say flatly.

“I’m fucking tired of people using those I care about against me.

That’s what happened back in college, and I’m now afraid it’ll happen again with you. ”

Haisley’s expression softens a little, the corners of her mouth relaxing. “You care about me?”

“I—” My throat feels tight all of a sudden. “That’s not?—”

She raises an eyebrow, challenging me. “Not what you meant to say?”

“You know what I meant.”

A small, knowing smile tugs at her lips. “Good. Because I care about you too.”

The tension between us shifts with those words. I don’t know what to do with it. These feelings are too big, too much to handle right now.

But one thing’s crystal clear: if Lewis Farrington so much as breathes Haisley’s name the wrong way, I won’t think twice. I’ll break his nose. Because I know exactly how bad that hurts.