Page 50 of Breakaway Daddies

“If you three don’t stop staring at me like I’m some fragile flower, I swear—” she starts, her voice laced with a mix of irritation and humor.

Bruno, without a word, hands her my phone. She frowns slightly, taking it from him, her eyes darting across the screen as she scans the message.

For a moment, her face is a blank canvas, betraying nothing. Then, with a barely audible sigh, she sets the phone on the table, unlocks her own, and begins flicking through her notifications.

“Coach emailed me,” she mutters, more to herself than to us, her voice barely rising above a whisper. “Wants to see me when I get to work.”

She doesn’t offer any further explanation, just drops the phone back into her bag with a quick, decisive motion and heads toward the bathroom, her footsteps echoing on the tiled floor.

We try to ask if she’s okay, but the sound of running water drowns out our voices.

“I’m fine. Don’t wait for me,” she calls out, her voice slightly distorted by the closed bathroom door.

Her words hang in the air, leaving an uneasy feeling that doesn’t sit right with any of us.

We all pull on our clothes hastily, the air in the room thick with nervous anticipation. Silence stretches between us as we head out, each weighed down by our own contemplations.

I’m determined not to linger at home today. Staying in would feel like I’m hiding from reality. Even though the doctors haven’t given me the green light to play, I’m heading to practice anyway.

As we drive up to the rink, my heart starts to race. The parking lot is packed with more cars than usual, a clear sign that the media has already descended upon us.

“Shit,” Thomas grumbles under his breath, glancing nervously at the crowd.

Bruno’s jaw tightens, his shoulders drawing up with tension. “Just keep walking,” he instructs, his voice low and steady.

Together, we move in a tight group, our heads bowed as we slip through the side door.

I inhale deeply, trying to calm the tremor in my gut.

It’s time to face whatever comes next.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Jinx

The highway unfurlsendlessly before me, a gray ribbon lined with blurred green exit signs and a steady stream of cars whooshing past, their engines humming a monotonous tune.

My breath comes in uneven bursts, and a band of tension squeezes my chest, making each inhale feel like a struggle.

I shouldn’t have let this happen.

Tears well up, distorting my view of the road with their hot, furious haze.

A scream rips from my throat, raw and desperate, as I slam my palm against the wheel. The sharp sting in my hand is a futile attempt at relief, but it’s the only outlet I have.

How did I let it get this far?

I should have kept things professional, maintained that invisible line. I should have known better.

But no, I had to convince myself that I could just… have this, that I could share in the happiness Kenzie and Ally found.

That a harem could actually function without chaos.

A bitter laugh escapes me, a mocking echo in the confined space of the car, as I veer onto a longer route to work, purposefully bypassing red lights and avoiding stops that would force me to pause and reflect.

My stomach churns violently, though it’s not solely the morning sickness causing turmoil. It’s the crushing weight of my own foolishness.

How long before my parents come across the headline? How long before I receive that inevitable call: the one where their voices are thick with disappointment and anger, demanding explanations for the choices I’ve made?

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