Page 37

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MARLEE

“ T his is a mistake. Let’s just text them,” Ledger says, shifting his stance outside Griffin’s door. “Or move. We could move.”

Deadpanned and more exhausted than I can describe, I turn to Ledger and tell him, “You faced a six-foot-five enforcer with no helmet last week. Surely you can tell your friends we're having more than one baby.”

Grumbling, he responds, “Yeah, I was able to tell them we were having a baby. This is a different category of news.”

“Well, they were your overachieving swimmers after all.” I shrug. “I don’t see what you have to be so nervous about. You should be proud of yourself and your…super-soaker.”

An ornery smile spreads across Ledger’s face and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the cutest expression I’ve ever seen.

“Did you just call my penis a super-soaker?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I mean you did spend an entire night exploding inside me.”

Playfully he taps my ass, making me squeal. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t love every minute of it.”

My cheeks heat at the thought of that one steamy night. I may be exhausted now but my body still craves him. It’s been too long.

“I thought I heard voices out here,” Griffin says as he swings his door wide open. “Look who’s here, everyone!” He steps back and allows us to walk inside where the rest of the team and their significant others are all seated. Immediately the room erupts in welcomes.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Is everything alright?”

“How did it go?”

“You definitely look better.”

“Better yes but also exhausted.”

“Do you want to sit? You should sit.”

All the guys hop up from their seats, offering me their spaces. I choose the comfy couch next to Ella. Ledger stands behind me, his arms rubbing my shoulders gently.

He leans down and quietly asks me, “Can I get you anything?”

I shake my head, yawning. “Nah. I’m good. Just tell them.”

“Uh oh. Tell us what?” Oliver asks, watching us anxiously. Layken curls her arm inside Griffin’s, her brows arching.

“You’re okay, right? Everything is okay?”

Everyone quiets as Ledger stands tall, scratching the back of his neck like he’s about to confess to murder.

“So, uh… Marlee and I have an announcement.”

“You're finally getting your own Netflix profile?” Barrett asks, his mouth full of the protein bar he’s snacking on.

“Not quite,” I chuckle.

“The baby’s okay, right?” Scarlett wonders.

The moment I nod everyone cheers.

“YES! Mini-Ledger coming in hot!” Bodhi gives Ledger a high five.

“I hope it’s a girl,” Harrison says with a smirk. “So, she can beat Dayne at his own game by the age of five.”

Ledger nods and gives me a knowing smile. He rubs my shoulders again and announces, “Yes. The babies are fine. Everyone is okay.”

“Wait.” Scarlett’s eyes grow huge. “Babies. Did you say babies?”

Corrigan cocks her head. “Did you mean to say babies? Like more than one?”

Ledger nods and August jumps from his seat. “Holy shit, Ledger! You’re having twins?”

Ledger cocks his head with a slight cringe and begins to shake his head and that’s when Corrigan slowly rises from her seat watching him.

“Oh, my God. Triplets? Is it triplets?”

A silence falls over the room as all eyes settle on Ledger and me. It’s like a someone-just- unplugged-the-entire-arena kind of silence.

“Triplets,” Ledger says with a nod and a release of a deep breath.

Three babies.

I have three babies growing inside of me.

It’s still so surreal.

“Wait…for real?” Griffin asks, stunned. “Triplets? As in…as in a little baby hat trick?”

“ Dude.” Oliver smiles. “You scored a natural hat trick off the ice?”

Griffin shakes his head dumbfounded. “Fuck me, Ledger’s so damn good at what he does even his jizz can score hat tricks.”

“Right?” August says, his jaw hanging open in shock. “That’s not a baby. That’s a starting line.”

“You’re gonna need a van.” Barrett tosses back the last bite of his protein bar and then points to us. “No. A bus. A tour bus.”

“Alright, we're holding a team meeting,” Oliver announces with a raise of his hand. “Who wants to start the ‘Ledger Sleep Deprivation Pool’? I give him two months before he forgets his own name.”

“I give him three weeks before he shows up at practice wearing baby socks on his hands,” Bodhi teases.

“Okay, okay! Chill!” Ledger says, waving his hands. “I’ve already survived one panic attack today. Don’t make me relive it.”

“Seriously.” I smirk. “They had to carry him out on his own stretcher when he heard we were having three.”

“So, are we godparents?” Griffin asks, bringing his hands to his chest. “We get to be godparents, right? Do you only get to pick one of us?” He turns to the group. “I feel like we should vote.”

Ella stands with her hand up. “I will not let these children wear anything without at least one glittery sequin. I'm just saying.”

Harrison pats Ledger on the back. “If you survive this, Dayne, I will personally nominate you for Dad of the Year. I might even bake you a casserole.”

“Whatever assholes. Tease all you want. You all suck.”

Griffin grins and throws his arm around Ledger’s shoulder. “We love you too, Dad of Three. Now we better get you ready. Life’s about to drop the gloves, man.”

18 WEEKS

I wake up with one thought so overpowering, so intense, it could rival any hormonal surge I've had in the last seven months:

I need a strawberry-banana smoothie. Immediately. Or I might actually die.

I try to ignore it, turning onto my side with a groan. That only earns me a firm kick to the ribs from Baby B. Baby A rolls in protest. Baby C? Probably organizing a tiny prison break in there. Apparently, they’re on Team Smoothie too.

I whisper to the dark room. “No. Go back to sleep. We’re not waking your father up.”

“Too late,” Ledger’s sleepy voice grumbles from beside me. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

I hesitate. “I mean…yes. Technically. But also…no.”

He sits up like he’s ready to rush me to the hospital. “Is it the babies? Contractions? Weird dreams about talking cats again?”

“No. Smoothie.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I need a strawberry-banana smoothie. Like…now. Like, I can taste it in my soul. My whole body is ninety percent craving and ten percent guilt.”

There’s a long pause and then Ledger’s brows pinch as he glances at his alarm clock.

“Babe. It’s three in the morning.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think we have bananas in the house.”

“I also know.”

He groans, flopping back against the pillow. “You couldn’t crave crackers? Or ice chips? We have so many ice chips. Ice chips galore. Are you sure you’re not craving ice chips?”

“Ledge.”

He turns his head to look at me. I widen my eyes, full Puss-n-Boots mode. He groans again, but this time it’s laced with affection and somewhere in my chest, my heart flutters.

“I hate how effective that face is,” he says with a foolish smile.

“I hate how empty my hands are.”

Geesh Marlee. No need to go all diva on the man.

Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in the kitchen in his hoodie—because nothing fits anymore—and watching him blend frozen fruit like it’s his sole mission in life. His hair is a mess, his shirt is inside out, and he keeps yawning mid-blend.

He slides the smoothie toward me like a bartender in a romcom. “For my lady and her team of crotch goblins.”

I take a sip and nearly cry. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. You’re the best man I’ve ever known and I love you so much.”

“Tell me that again when I’m not trying to dig frozen mango chunks out of the blender at 3:30 A.M. with a spatula.”

“I’m serious,” I say, holding his hand. “I know this is ridiculous. But you always show up. Even for the weird stuff. Especially for the weird stuff.”

He bends down and kisses the top of my head. “You and the weird stuff come as a package deal, babe. I’m here for it. Always.”

We sit in the quiet kitchen while I sip my smoothie and he rests his head on my shoulder, eyes closed.

“I love you, Ledger.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, half-asleep. “Love you too, Smoothie Monster.”

19 WEEKS

The bedroom door is cracked open when my bladder wakens me in the middle of the night, a soft blue glow coming from down the hallway. I reach out my hand for Ledger but he’s not in bed with me.

Odd.

He usually sleeps like the dead.

I take care of business in the bathroom and then pad down the hall to the kitchen to refill my water bottle, still no sight of Ledger.

With one hand resting on the swell of my belly, I take a few sips of water and glance around the dark living room.

Everything feels still. Too still for a home that’s quickly filling with the weight of what’s to come.

On my way back down the hall I follow the glow of the soft blue light and find Ledger sitting on the couch in his guestroom that will soon become the nursery.

He’s in the dark except for the small lamp on the bedside table, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

His silhouette is solid, quiet… heavy. Like he’s holding something too big for just one person.

“Hey,” I say gently, setting my water bottle on the dresser. “You okay?”

He looks up, startled. His eyes are red-rimmed, like he’s been staring too long at nothing. He tries to muster a smile, but it barely lifts one corner of his mouth.

My heart!

Something isn’t right.

“Yeah, fine,” he lies. “Just thinking.”

I don’t push right away. I just sit next to him, close enough that our knees touch so he can feel me close to him. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“Have I been that obvious?”

“Maybe I’m just extra observant.” I nudge him gently. “You want to talk about it?”

I can’t imagine whatever is on his mind is hockey related. That stuff doesn’t bother him so much, which means his anxiety…his stress…it has to be about our babies.

Silence stretches between us like taut string and then he finally exhales.

“I’m scared, Marlee.”

I blink. That’s not something Ledger says out loud very often. At least not to me. He doesn’t say it on the ice. He doesn’t admit it in a press conference. Definitely not in the safety of his home, where he’s always trying so hard to be strong.

“I’m really fucking scared,” he repeats, voice cracking.

I tenderly place my hand over his. “Is this about the babies?”

He nods. “I’m about to be a dad.”

This time I turn my body toward him and place my other hand gently on his back. “You’re already being a dad, Ledger.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean… yeah, technically. But I don’t feel like I know how to be one, Mar. And I keep thinking… what if I screw them up? The babies. What if I mess up completely? What if I screw you up too? What if I hurt you?”

“Where is this coming from?” I shake my head, even though I already know. He mentioned it months ago and we’ve tiptoed around it ever since.

He leans back, staring at the ceiling like maybe the truth’s written up there.

“My dad killed my mom, Marlee,” he explains.

“And I’ve hated him for it for as long as I can remember.

I don’t have any memories of my mother beyond a few pictures I’ve seen.

I don’t have any happy memories of my childhood with my real parents and then after they were gone…

it was all shit.” More tears stream down his face.

“What if I could become him? All it takes is one weak moment. One mistake. One bad night.”

“Ledge…”

“I never had someone show me how to be a good man. A good husband. A good father,” he says, his voice raised a bit.

“I just had trauma. And empty holidays. And hand-me-downs from strangers who didn’t want me.

I didn’t find Rebecca and Nick until I was almost in high school.

My entire childhood was…damaged. It was pain.

It was distress. It was one failure after another.

And now I’ve got three babies on the way, and I can’t stop thinking—what if I pass that damage down to them? ”

My heart shatters into a million pieces for the man sitting next to me as a few tears slide down his cheeks. Broken but so wholesomely beautiful. His body is trembling like he’s been holding this in way too long, and it’s finally splintering through.

I take his hand and press it over my stomach.

“These babies don’t need perfect, Ledger,” I whisper. “They just need you.”

He closes his eyes, jaw tight. His chin quivering.

“They need the man who has shown up to every appointment. The man who willingly makes me smoothies at 3 A.M. and reads up on pregnancy issues like ‘preeclampsia’ just in case. The man who talks me down from every deep dive Google-fest over pregnancy dos and don’ts I get myself into.

The man who holds me when I’m scared, even when he’s clearly scared too. ”

“I don’t want to hurt them,” he says, voice breaking.

“You won’t,” I say fiercely, tears springing from my eyes too. “You are not your father, Ledger. You never were and you never will be.”

We sit here, hearts thudding in the quiet of the night. His hand stays on my belly. A small kick flutters beneath his palm, and he chokes out a breath that’s half-sob, half-laugh.

“Was that…”

“Yeah.” I smile through our tears. “They hear you. You’re their father, Ledge. They’re gonna know you,” I whisper. “All of you. And they’re already so damn lucky to have you as their dad . ”

He leans into me, forehead pressed to mine, and for the first time in weeks, I feel him breathe like maybe…just maybe…he believes me.

“Can I suggest something without you feeling pressured or flipping out about it?”

He smoothes my wild bed-hair away from my face. “Of course.”

“What if you went and saw your father? Talked to him. Tell him how you’ve felt all these years.”

“What good would it do? He’s probably a huge asshole who wouldn’t want to give me the time of day.”

“Maybe it won’t do any good at all.” I shrug. “But maybe just saying your thoughts out loud to him, in a space where he can’t run away or ignore you is what you need. You would hold all the cards. You can say your peace and then walk away with closure.”

He doesn’t respond, but I know he’s mulling the idea over in his mind.

“It’s just a suggestion,” I remind him giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You know I’ll stand by you every step of the way.”

“I’m not saying no, Mar. I’m just…I don’t know.” He sighs. “I’ll think about it.”