Page 27

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LEDGER

T he puck slides right past my stick.

Again.

“Fuck!”

“Dude,” Magallan calls from the other end of the rink, coasting to a stop, “Are you actively trying to sabotage practice, or is this some new therapy you learned on social media where not hitting the puck makes you a better player?”

I grunt, bending over at the waist as sweat from my hair drips down my forehead. My legs feel like wet noodles. Fucking useless wet noodles.

“Shut up,” I pant, straightening slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, and I’m dating a supermodel who owns a yacht,” Meers scoffs with a laugh. “You skated like someone replaced your knees with spaghetti.”

They felt amazing last night.

My legs were strong.

For hours on end.

What the fuck is wrong with me now?

“Seriously,” adds Blackstone, skating up beside us. “Did you forget which end of the stick is up? That puck went right through you. I could’ve done better blindfolded and emotionally compromised.”

“Maybe Ledger’s emotionally compromised,” Ollenberg says, nudging me with a knowing wink. “Hmm? Wanna talk about it, man?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

The less Ollenberg knows the better.

He’ll just give me a hard time.

“Something keeping you up at night?” Magallan asks.

Recognition hits Griffin square in the face and he narrows his eyes, watching me. “I think you mean some one .”

I give him a look. “Don’t.”

“Oh-ho-ho.” Blackstone grins, he eyes lighting up. “You didn’t.”

“I thought I heard screaming coming from someone’s room.” Meers nods. “Wasn’t sure exactly what room it was coming from so I shoved my ear plugs in my ears and went to sleep.”

Griffin clutches his chest dramatically. “You dog. You absolute trash raccoon. Is this why you looked like you fought a bear in the locker room mirror this morning?”

I roll my eyes and skate back toward the bench. “It was… late. I didn’t sleep much.”

“You didn’t sleep much,” Griffin mimics in a high-pitched voice. “We get it. You were too busy whispering sweet nothings and whatever else into her ear.”

She may have tasted sweet, but I only remember being relentless with her body.

“Trust me, man,” Harrison snorts. “There was no whispering going on. From either of them.”

I groan and toss my helmet onto the bench and grab a water bottle. “You guys are the worst.”

“Maybe,” Oliver says, grinning as he flops down beside me. “But we’re not the ones skating like baby giraffes.”

Coach blows the whistle and barks something about “momentum” and “looking alive, for god’s sake,” and I swear under my breath.

“Look she showed up at my door late last night because her ovulation test came back positive. I knew that meant it was time and I knew what I had to do.”

August’s jaw drops. “No shit! Did you guys finally fuck?”

“If the noises I heard were any indication…” Harrison mumbles.

I bob my head back and forth trying to decide just how much to tell them. “There was a bit of a…cumtastrophe.”

Roche skates over to the bench just in time. “A what?”

I wave his pinched brows off dismissively. “Long story short, there was a mess on the floor and a panicking mother to be so I did what every other normal man would do.”

Magallan’s brows arch and his eyes grow excited. “Which is?”

“I kissed her and told her she could trust me and that if she would let me, I would be there for her. For everything.”

“And then you fucked,” August notes.

“Y-yeah. We fucked. A lot.” I wipe my hand over my face trying not to smile like a giddy teenage boy.

“How many times?” Griffin inquires.

“Three?” Harrison guesses, looking at me. I can tell he’s trying to recount what he heard.

“Four? Five?” I offer. “I may have lost track. Once I had her there I couldn’t stop. No, shit, I didn’t want to stop. She was…”

Everything.

Amazing.

The best sex I’ve ever had in my life.

“I wanted to make sure my swimmers got to where they needed to go. I had a job to do and I did it.”

Griffin nudges me with his elbow. “But you enjoyed it, right?”

“Hey! Pucking shits,” Coach calls out to us. “I’ve seen foosball players play better than you assholes. Let’s go!”

Magallan claps me on the back as I stand again, feeling every movement in my knees and legs as if I’m some seventy-year-old trying to relive my glory days.

“C’mon, loverboy. Let’s get through practice.

Then you can go nap and daydream about your girl with way better reflexes than you until game time. ”

“Better stamina too,” Griffin adds with a wink, skating off before I can throw something at him.

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. My legs might be dead, but my heart is very much alive—and possibly an idiot.

“Totally worth it,” I mutter before I push off after them.

Marlee

Soooo I have a confession.

Seeing Marlee’s name spring up on my screen has me happily reaching for my phone. My smile widening as I read her message and text back a reply.

Me

Uh oh. Is this like… “I accidentally taped my hand to your hockey stick and now I have sticks for hands” or “I ate the mushrooms even though they give me the screaming shits” kind of confession?

Marlee

Worse. I googled “early pregnancy signs” again. Like…totally did a deep dive down the rabbit hole.

Me

How deep we talking?

Marlee

Page 7 deep. I ended up on a forum from 2008 where someone claimed a heightened sense of smell made her gag when her boyfriend put on his body spray before their date. I don't even know how I got here. I think I blacked out.

Me

Page 7?! Babe, after page 2 it’s just horoscopes and home remedies involving pickles and moonlight. Did you find anything new? Are we pregnant or just allergic to cheap cologne?

Marlee

Both are possible. I’ve also convinced myself that I might be pregnant because I cried during a dog food commercial this morning. But before you judge me, it was very emotionally complex, okay?

Me

The one with the great dane?

Marlee

And the little toy duck? Yep. That’s the one.

Me

I saw that commercial. That dog had a BACKSTORY. I tear up every time.

Marlee

Don’t validate me, Ledger. I need boundaries here!

Me

You also need to stop googling things like “can mood swings start 4 seconds after conception” but that’s just my opinion.

Marlee

LOL. It’s called research, Ledger!!

Me

No. It’s called giving yourself an honorary internet doctorate and then diagnosing yourself with twins and a ghost baby all of which are dying of cancer because everyone who deep dives into the internet is dying of cancer.

How they don’t just put that shit on page one is beyond me. Would save us all a lot of time.

Marlee

Okay fair.

Me

Do I need to stage an intervention? Bring you decaf tea and confiscate your phone?

Marlee

Too late. I already googled “Does caffeine affect implantation”

Me

Lord help me woman. You are out of control.

Marlee

You signed up for this! You’re helping to make this baby. You’re responsible for my brain now.

Me

Good. Glad you see it my way. Now listen to me. Step away from the internet. Maybe you need to come over for dinner. I’ll make pasta and I’ll turn off the wi-fi.

Marlee

My phone is its own hotspot Ledger! That’s not helping! Pasta though…temping. I could eat. Do you have snacks?

Me

Do I have snacks? Mar, I am the snack.

Marlee

God in heaven be careful what you offer. Pregnant women have quite the appetite.

Me

Meh, that’s just the hormones talking.

Marlee

You just said my hormones are talking! Maybe I AM pregnant. Who knew I wouldn’t need the internet to google my symptoms when I have a Ledger Dayne pointing them out for me?

Me

Just get over here. I’m grabbing my body spray now.

Marlee

“Ledger!” Ella shouts from the doorway to her dressing room.

Our final practice of the preseason has ended and I’m making my way to the parking garage.

“Your girl is in need of an intervention!” She gestures to Marlee standing next to her looking guilty as ever with her phone hiding her very guilty grin.

“For Christ’s sake Mar, you need to stop googling symptoms,” I tell Marlee when I stop in front of her. Stretching out my hand, I quickly confiscate her phone and slide it into my back pocket.

“Hey! I wasn’t googling symptoms,” she protests, reaching for it. “I was reading about basal body temperature variations.”

“Which is—wait for it—basically a symptom,” Ella says with a laugh. “You’re driving yourself crazy, you know.”

She huffs glancing between me and Ella. “Do you have any idea how long this two-week wait feels?”

“Yes.” I nod. “That’s why I’ve planned an emergency mental health field trip.”

She blinks. “You…what?”

“Hope you don’t mind getting a little slushie spilled on that outfit,” I grin and fold my hand over hers. “Because we’re going out.”

“Wait, we are? Now?”

“Yep. Right now.” I glance over at Ella who passes me a wink and then waves to an unsuspecting Marlee.

“See ya, guys. Have fun!”

I pull into what has to be the most aggressively colorful mini golf course in town only partly cringing at how vibrant everything is here. Colorful is definitely an understatement. You can spot the entire place from the highway.

“This is—wow.” Marlee eyes a fiberglass pirate ship with a very questionable lime green and hot pink paint job.

“I know.” I hand her a neon green golf ball. “It's uncompromisingly terrible. That’s the point.”

We’re the only adults here without children in sight, but somehow that makes it better. She’s already smiling despite herself as I line up my first shot and promptly launch the ball directly into the decorative moat.

Marlee giggles and I look at her, deadpan. “Warm-up shot. I planned that.”

She laughs—an honest, full laugh that I love the sound of—and I can tell that some of her anxiety is already melting away. That in itself makes me feel better too, though I would happily carry her stress for her any day of the week.