Page 28 of The Unexpected Lineup (Lost in Translation #2)

I’M GLAD SHE PICKED YOU

RASMUS

Once I reach the door, I rap my knuckles against the wood, my knocks urgent. It swings open, revealing Coach MacBride, his brows lifting in surprise.

“Rasmus?” He eyes me up and down. “What’s going on?”

“Is Mr. Lavigne here?”

“He’s in the other room.”

I brush past him before he can question me further, stepping into the makeshift team management office for the night. Haisley’s dad, my GM, sits at the desk, scrolling through his tablet, oblivious to the storm heading his way.

“Mr. Lavigne, I need to speak with you,” I say, my voice tight and controlled .

He glances up, brows furrowed. “Rasmus, how many times do I need to tell you to call me Jeremy? Or Jem?”

“For what I’m about to say, you’ll want me to call you Mr. Lavigne.”

That gets his attention. His posture straightens as his gaze sharpens on me. “What’s going on? You seem tense.”

I draw in a deep breath, running a hand through my hair. “Sir, Haisley fell outside her place. She’s on her way to the ER in Brooklyn, but I don’t know the details for sure yet.”

Jeremy rises abruptly, his tablet clattering against the desk. “What? Is she okay? How do you know this?”

This is it. There’s no turning back after this. Fuck.

Squaring my shoulders, I tell him, “Because I was the first person she called.”

“And why is that Rasmus?”

“Because I’m…the father.”

He stills. Completely. Like the words don’t quite register at first, as if he’s waiting for me to take them back.

“You’re what ?” His voice cracks, disbelief lacing the question as it hangs in the air.

“I’m the father of her baby.”

For a long, excruciating moment, I don’t think he breathes. Then he laughs, a short and humorless sound. “Baby? My daughter isn’t pregnant.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “She is, and it’s mine.”

His gaze hardens as he processes my words, his mouth tightening into a thin line. “I don’t… I don’t understand. How the hell did this happen?”

“I didn’t plan this,” I admit, my voice rough. “But it’s happening, and I need you to accept that.”

He scrubs a hand over his jaw, his shoulders sagging slightly as he exhales. “I see.” Then, without any questions, he reaches for his coat. “Well, let’s go then.”

The weight of his words settles over me as we head for the door. For the first time since I walked into this room, I feel something close to relief. Maybe even hope.

Turns out, when you own a successful hockey team, last-minute private jets from Boston to New York are part of the budget.

Before takeoff, we got a text from Timmy, Haisley’s friend. He’d taken an Uber to the ER and was there, waiting for us to arrive.

Fidgeting in my comfy leather seat, I look out the window.

The lights of different cities and towns shine bright against the clear night sky.

But my focus keeps slipping back to Haisley.

I wonder how she’s holding up after the fall.

She must’ve been terrified and I wasn’t there.

Worse, I might’ve made it harder for her when I told her dad about the baby.

I exhale slowly, trying to ease off the tension in my shoulders. But the silence sitting between me and Jeremy Lavigne weighs on me. I hate not knowing where I stand with people.

Finally, Jeremy clears his throat, cutting through the quiet. “You don’t have to look so nervous. I’m not angry. ”

“No?” I ask with a nervous glance his way.

He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “I’m shocked. Excited. Worried. But angry? No.”

I nod as the tightness in my chest loosens. At least he’s not furious. But the relief I feel is cautious. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I don’t know how to feel most of the days,” I admit, the words coming out quieter than I intended. “One second I’m fine, the next I’m terrified and wondering how I’m going to be responsible for a whole person.”

“That sounds about right. I remember those first weeks when we were expecting her.” His voice drifts a little, lost in old memories. “It was the same for me. My head kept spinning until they placed her in my arms. Then it all made sense.”

His comment earns a small smile from me. “So, it gets easier once the baby arrives?”

“It does. And it doesn’t. You just learn to make peace with it all,” he shares.

I lean back, staring up at the ceiling of the cabin. “It’s definitely been a lot since she told me I was going to be a dad. Feels like the world flipped overnight.”

“I’ll admit,” he lowers his voice. “This isn’t how I expected to hear the news about my first grandchild, either. But life rarely hands us news the way we want them, does it?”

“No,” I agree, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t plan for any of this. But I don’t want you to think this changes anything for me. I’m—” I pause, searching for the right words. “It’s my job to be there. For Haisley, for the baby. I’m not taking this lightly. ”

“Good. That’s all I wanted to hear,” he lets out a long breath. “Remember that you’re not the first hockey player to have a baby, and you most definitely won’t be the last. It’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t elaborate or launch into a lecture about responsibility or expectations. But somehow, those three words carry more weight than anything else he could’ve said. It’ll be okay.

A beat of silence passes before he speaks again, his voice gentler this time. “And Rasmus?”

I glance over at him, meeting his eyes.

“I’m glad she picked you.”

I search his face for some hint of what he’s really thinking. But there’s no judgment in his eyes. Just quiet acceptance that says more than any words could.

“Thanks,” I say, my voice low but steady. “I’ll prove you’re right.”

It should be obvious, but never, I mean never , piss off a pregnant woman.

Especially not one who has already been through the wringer.

The glare Haisley throws my way as we settle into her hospital room is enough to make even a man twice my size take a step back.

I don’t scare easily, but right now? Yeah, I might be a little afraid of my baby mama.

I’m not a mind reader, but I don’t have to be one to know exactly what’s running through her head. She’s furious about how her dad found out about the baby. I get it. I really do. She needs to understand how worried I was. Hell, I’m still worried .

Apparently when she was brought into the ER, the doctors noticed some spotting. While not alarming on its own, it was enough to raise concerns after her fall. Enough to make my stomach twist into knots. For now, Meatball is doing fine. But the fear inside me hasn’t fully let go yet.

Her ankle, on the other hand, is sprained and she won’t be able to put weight on it for at least two weeks.

You can only imagine how well she took that news.

Hint: not well. Add that frustration to the list of ways I’ve apparently fucked up tonight, and the atmosphere in this room is colder than the damn ice I play on.

I’m thinking of ways to suggest she stays with me while she heals. Not because I’m forcing her but because it’s the only thing that makes sense. Her brownstone has too many stairs, and she needs to rest. Knowing Haisley and her stubborn side, she will try with counterarguments anyway.

And we get to have that discussion with her dad and Timmy present. How awesome. Not.

Haisley crosses her arms over her chest, her stormy green eyes sharp enough to cut glass. She’s propped up in the hospital bed, her irritation simmering beneath the surface. I brace myself.

“So, about where you’re staying—” I start.

“I’m staying at home,” she interrupts me. “End of discussion.”

“No, you’re not,” I counter immediately. “You heard the doctor. No stairs.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Haisley, be reasonable. Your brownstone has what? Two flights up to your bedroom? You can’t even put weight on your foot. ”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, you won’t.”

Her dad steps forward. “He’s right, Princess. You can’t be alone while you’re injured.”

She whips her head to him. “But Dad . I already had to cancel two trips because of this. I’m not going to move out of my place, too.”

“No arguments, Haisley,” he cuts in, his usual calm laced with the unmistakable authority of a man used to being in charge. “You’re not staying in that house by yourself.”

“I won’t be alone. Timmy will be there with me.”

“Oh, no,” Timmy groans. “No offense, H, but I’m not coming in between you and these two.”

“But I need help!”

“Which is why you’re staying with me,” I repeat. “My place is one level, no stairs. There’s a guest room for you, and I’ll take care of whatever you need.”

“No thanks,” she huffs and crosses her arms.

“Stop being stubborn and let me help you. You can be mad at me later, but please, let’s think clearly.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do only because you put a baby in me, Rasmus.”

Her dad clears his throat. “That’s enough, Princess. You might be annoyed about your current situation, but that doesn’t change the fact that this man is stepping up. You should let him. ”

She exhales through her nose, looking from her dad to me. Her hands are gripping the blanket, resisting the urge to strangle someone. Not someone . Me.

Timmy claps his hands. “Great. That’s settled. And on that note, I’m gonna get us coffee.”

He practically bolts for the door, leaving us locked in a silent standoff.

“I’ll only stay until my ankle is better,” Haisley mutters begrudgingly. “And only because your place has everything on one level.”

I bite back a smile and her eyes narrow, daring me to gloat. But I don’t want to push my luck. “Deal.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t.”

She lies back against the pillows, shutting her eyes, signaling us the conversation is over. Not a truce exactly, but something close. I turn to leave, figuring I’ll grab us something to eat, give her a little space.

But as I step out into the hallway, her dad stops me with a hand to my arm.

“Don’t screw this up,” he says, low and firm. “Knowing my daughter, you’ve got this one chance to do right by her.”

I meet his gaze and nod. “I know.”

And I do. More than he realizes.