Page 36 of The Unexpected Lineup (Lost in Translation #2)
SHE COULD HAVE HAD ANY OTHER MAN AND PICKED THE SWEDISH MAN BUN MASTER
RASMUS
T he locker room falls silent as we enter. Some of the guys keep their heads down, avoiding eye contact, their frustration still simmering beneath the surface. Others glance our way, curiosity piqued but their expressions otherwise unreadable. The weight of tonight’s loss lingers in the air.
Jasper exhales, shaking his head slightly as he steps forward. His voice calm but firm, he says, “Listen. We’re all frustrated after tonight’s game, but we’re still a team. A team needs every member to stay focused and give their best effort.”
Silas, never one to let things go, scoffs from his cubby. “Save your pretty words for Westerholm.”
I clench my jaw, bracing for more similar comments, but Jasper doesn’t let them spiral out of control. Instead, he turns to me, his expression supportive. “Actually, Rasmus has something to share with you,” he says, motioning for me to speak. “Tell the truth, and it’ll be okay.”
Taking a deep breath, I look around the room. My heart pounds, but I nod to settle my nerves. The only way out of this is to go through.
“Look,” I start, my voice steadier than expected. “This might come as a shock to all of you, unless you’ve seen the social media posts today. But I'm going to be a dad this July, and the mother is Haisley Lavigne.”
The room freezes. No one speaks. No one moves. My words have sucked all the air out of the room. You could hear a pin drop. The silence is heavy and loaded.
After the initial shock, a few exchange wide-eyed glances.
Others stare at me, their expressions ranging from surprise to disbelief.
I stand there, my heart pounding. My palms are clammy and my throat is dry like the air is too thick to swallow.
The silence wraps around me, heavy and suffocating, and all I can do is wait.
I hope someone will speak before the weight of the moment crushes me completely.
I should have known Felix is the first one to break the silence. He shoots up from his cubby, his eyes wide with excitement.
“No way, Ras. Congrats, man!” he exclaims, pulling me into a long hug. “Is everything okay with the baby? How's Haisley?”
A relieved chuckle escapes me. “The morning sickness was brutal, but she’s doing better now. We're actually finding out the sex on Wednesday,” I say, reaching for my wallet and fish out the slightly worn copy of the first ultrasound.
Silas peers down at the image in my hand. His nose scrunches in confusion. “It’s a blob.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Don't tell Haisley that I agree. But our little Meatball is growing beautifully. I can’t wait for a new photo next week. ”
“Meatball, seriously?” Lee laughs as he undresses, ready to shower. “Couldn’t pick a better nickname?”
“I found out when she was around twelve weeks along. The baby was the size of a meatball.”
“I mean, it isn’t much different from Bean,” Felix ponders.
“That’s what I said,” I exclaim. “Or Peanut.”
“When did this happen?” Papa Shane chimes in, arms crossed over his chest. His expression is mostly neutral, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes. “If my math is correct, this baby was created before you were traded.”
My cheeks heat, the flush creeping all the way to my ears.
“Funny story, but we met last Halloween and didn’t recognize each other because of the costumes.
We kept our identities a mystery, and well…
” I rub the back of my neck, hearing a few chuckles from the guys.
“It wasn't until the Peacocks’ 75th birthday party that we connected the dots when her dad introduced us.”
“Holy shit,” Papa Shane mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “It's like one of those movies.”
Some nod in agreement, others still looking stunned.
Silas, however, isn’t satisfied with what he has heard. “And how is all that linked to tonight’s fight?”
I exhale, my good mood dimming as I’m forced to relive the unwise decision on my part. “Farrington found out about the pregnancy pregame and started chirping. I was already losing it when he only mentioned Haisley, but then he said something about the baby. That’s when I lost it.”
“Lost it?” Silas raises an eyebrow. “You fucking went after him. You sure that’s the way to handle it? ”
The room falls still again, and everyone waits for me to answer. The adrenaline from the fight is wearing off, and I’m left with the reality of what happened. I shouldn’t have done it. I know that. But at the time, it felt like the only way to defend what was mine.
“I don’t regret it,” I say, my voice steady. “You don’t talk about the mother of my child that way. Not in front of me, not in front of anyone. I won’t apologize for that.”
“You sure about that?” Silas presses, his eyes narrowing. “That fight might’ve cost us the game, Ras. You’re not only jeopardizing yourself when you throw punches. You’re putting the whole team at risk.”
I don’t flinch at his words. I’ve heard this before. “I’m putting Haisley and the baby first. This team’s my chosen family, but they’re my world now. I’ll take any penalty for them, even if it costs us.”
Felix nods from the side. “Well, if nothing else, I respect the hell out of you for standing your ground. No one messes with family.”
There’s a beat of silent understanding. Papa Shane, still standing near his cubby, steps forward with a softened expression. He looks more approving than I expected. He claps a strong hand on my back. “Well, shit. I mean, congrats. Welcome to the dad club.”
With his approval, laughter moves through the room, easing the tension. The mood shifts, and the icy silence from before thaws. It’s replaced by curiosity, teasing, and, most importantly, acceptance.
“I still don’t get why a stunning woman like her picked your ugly mug,” Lee teases. “She could have had any other man and picked the Swedish man bun master.”
I roll my eyes and Felix grins. “You know what this means, right?”
“What?” I ask, already regretting asking.
“You need to start listening to ABBA in public now. No more hiding it,” my friend declares. “Meatball’s going to grow up respecting their Swedish roots.”
Laughter erupts again, this time unburdened and genuine. And I’m lighter for the first time since I entered the room. This is my team. My new brothers. And while tonight didn’t go as planned, this moment right here makes all the difference.
The speakers start playing a familiar song, and the beginning of “Take A Chance On Me ” fills the room. And I’m not the only one singing and jamming along.
When we’ve all showered and changed, the door to the locker room swings open, and a handful of reporters shuffle in.
Their voices quickly fill the space, and I feel the familiar trickle of sweat forming along the back of my neck.
I know I’m the main story tonight. Thanks to the fight, the social media frenzy, and all the rumors swirling around the pregnancy.
I catch one of the Peacocks' PR team members leading the reporters toward the designated corner for interviews in the corner. She glances over at me and gives a curt nod. “Westerholm. They’re ready for you.”
Taking a deep breath, I force my hands to stop trembling as I stand from my cubby and make my way over. As soon as I reach the area for interviews, the cameras flick on. A few microphones are thrust toward me, the reporters eager to get their questions in.
“So, Rasmus,” one of them starts, his voice sharp and demanding. “What exactly happened with that fight tonight? It seemed a lot more than a disagreement on the ice.”
My jaw tightens, but I hold my ground. The last thing I want to do right now is let the frustration boil over and show them how rattled I am.
“Yeah, it was more than just a disagreement between me and Farrington. He crossed a line when he started talking about my family and bringing up the recent news about me and H—Miss Lavigne.”
The reporters exchange glances, their eyes lighting up. They want more, they expect drama. But I’m not giving them what they want. It would only strengthen my former reputation and the image many hockey fans still have about me.
“And were the unwanted comments what led to the fight?” another one asks, her eyes narrowing as she rapidly scribbles notes on her pad.
“Yeah. I wasn’t going to let him keep running his mouth.” My voice is steady, giving nothing away. “Hockey’s a physical game, but when someone goes after you personally like that, it’s not just about the game anymore."
The cameras click again, and the reporters seem to agree with my comment, but the atmosphere is tense. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’re trying to bait me into a more emotional response. But I’m not biting. Not today.
A reporter in the back, an older man with a graying beard, shifts on his feet and looks up from his notes. “You’ve been with the Peacocks for over a month now, but this is the first we’re hearing about your relationship with Haisley Lavigne. Care to share more?”
My heart rate spikes. This is the question I was dreading. The one I was hoping to avoid. The last thing I want is to delve too deep into this whole thing in front of cameras. But I know that if I don’t give them something, they’ll keep pushing until I crack.
"We’ve kept it private for a reason," I say, forcing myself to make eye contact with him. "We wanted to keep things between us and focus on getting to know each other away from the public. But clearly, that’s no longer possible."
"So, are you saying the news about the pregnancy wasn’t meant to be public yet?" he presses.
I nod, my teeth gritting. “Exactly. It was supposed to be something we shared with our families and the team first. But now it’s out there, and it’s part of our story, I guess.”
Another reporter leans forward, her tone now more casual but still probing. “And how does Miss Lavigne feel about all of this?”
“She’s overwhelmed. Who wouldn’t be in her position?” I ask carefully. “But I’m doing everything I can to make sure she knows she’s supported. We’ll get through this together like we always do.”
“There have been a lot of people questioning the timing of the pregnancy, especially since you were traded not too long ago. Any comments on that?”
The insinuation that this somehow ties into the trade, that my commitment to the team or my career could be questioned because of the baby, makes me feel angry .
“The timing is what it is.” I try to keep my voice level, even though every part of me wants to snap. “It’s a personal thing, and I’m not going to let people speculate on it.”
Another reporter clears his throat. “You’ve always had a bit of a bruiser reputation, especially back in Minnesota. Are we going to see more of that side of you this season? Is there any pressure from the Peacocks coaching staff to tone it down or, conversely, to step up physically again?”
I exhale through my nose, keeping my posture relaxed even though the question grates. “I’m not here to be a fighter. I’m here to play hockey. That being said, if someone comes after my loved ones, yeah, I’m going to respond. But I’m not out there looking for trouble like I might have in the past.”
Some of the reporters nod in agreement, others not quite satisfied with the answer. But I’m almost done here. I know they won’t get anything more from me. Not today.
One final question comes from the one with the graying beard. “Do you regret fighting tonight? The team could have used you on the ice, especially during that power play before the fight started.”
I know dropping gloves with Farrington wasn’t the smartest decision, but in that moment, with him talking about Haisley and our baby…I couldn’t let it slide.
“I regret that my actions affected the team. But I don’t regret protecting my family. That’s all I will say today. Thank you.”
The reporters exchange glances again, probably taking mental notes on my answer, but I’m done. I stand up straight, my shoulders squared, and nod at the PR rep, signaling that I’m ready to leave. I want to get home to her as soon as possible.