Page 80 of The Triple Play

“Annie,” I said again, trying to keep my voice even, but my thoughts were too loud. I knew what this was, knew it deep in my bones, even if I couldn’t admit the word to myself yet. I couldn’t leave her with this. “Darling, please, open the door.”

The faint sound of sniffling and shuffling on hardwood was barely audible over my breathing, but the deadbolt clicked.

The door creaked open a couple of inches, then swung wider, and there she was — barefoot, in my pajama pants that I hadn’t even realized had gone missing, her oversized shirt a little damp around the collar. Her hands shook, her eyes were swollen and damp with fresh tears, and the way shelookedat me was like she wasn’t quite believing that I existed in the first place.

“Annie,” I croaked.

She didn’t say a word. Just fell forward into me.

I caught her immediately, my arms locking around her as her body collapsed into mine. Her head pressed into my chest, muffled sobs and gasps hitting my abs, and I could tell she wasn’t holding them back at all. There was no pretending right now. Just raw, broken sounds as I wrapped her up into me and kept her tucked into me, both of us anchored on the threshold of her apartment.

My pulse thundered, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs that I was worried it was punching her in the face.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured shakily, one hand stroking the back of her head, the other wrapped tight enough around her shoulders that I was sure I could keep her from disappearing. “I’ve got you.”

She didn’t lift her head.

Just cried harder.

I walked her backward into her apartment, kicking the door shut haphazardly, my gaze sweeping over the space and the mess and the box she’d confined herself to for god knows how long now. We definitely hadn’t been the only ones suffering.

“How much did you hear?” she choked out, the words separated by gasps for air.

I exhaled slowly, weighing my options. I could lie. I could let her tell me on her own. But she needed help, and if she couldn’t tell me herself, I needed to make it clear that I was fully capable of putting puzzle pieces together. “Enough,” I answered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She went still in my arms, only her little choked gasps making her twitch.

I pulled back just enough to lift her head from my chest, my gaze meeting hers. I cupped her face in my hands, trying to steady myself enough for the words that needed to come out. “Annie,” I said softly, my voice cracking despite my efforts. “Darling, are you… are you pregnant?”

She hesitated, tears welling in her eyes and slipping down over her cheeks, then gave the smallest nod, like if she didn’t say it aloud it wouldn’t be real.

I lost my breath. I thought I’d given myself enough time to prepare for that, but I hadn’t. She was pregnant.Pregnant. Something I’d wanted foryears, and Jenny had refused, said we couldn’t until I retired from the NHL. It had shattered me all over again when she’d cheated on me and gotten with another player and posted online that she was pregnant a year later.

I had to keep myself stable right now.

Annie’s eyes squeezed shut, the tears flowing too fast, her breathing too broken. Shit, I’d taken too long to reply. “Hey, hey, look at me,” I rasped, brushing my thumbs over her cheeks and wiping away the tears. “It’s okay. I mean that.It’s okay.”

“How can it be okay?” she croaked. “It’s a fucking disaster.”

“No, it’s not.” I leaned back against the wall, tucking her into me but keeping my hold on her cheeks firm. “You’re not alone. Do you understand me? You’re not alone, Annie, I’m not going to let you be alone for this.”

“I don’t even know whose it is.” Her voice broke violently as she leaned into me, her forearms resting against my chest.

My heart broke for her, but I couldn’t help but ask. “How far along?”

“Seven weeks.” Her fingers dug into my shirt.

“Then it’s definitely one of ours,” I said softly, a small grin pulling my lips up. “I don’t care whose. Neither will they. We can figure it out together.”

She tried to say something, but her lower lip wobbled too hard to form words. I pressed my forehead to hers, eyes shut, trying to ground us both.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered. “I’m not.”

I didn’t plan it, didn’t make some grand move or time it perfectly. She was crying, trembling, pressed against me like I was the only solid thing in her universe right now, and I couldn’t help it.

I tilted my head, brushed my thumb across her cheek, and kissed her. Just once, gentle, careful, the kind of kiss you give when you’re not even sure you’re allowed to anymore.

When I pulled back, her eyes were wide, her lips parted. She didn’t move.

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