Page 4 of Pucking Fate

“You didn’t notice he looked four?”

“How was I supposed to know how old he was? I don’t know shit about kids. I…I figured she ended the pregnancy in college as soon as possible, met someone, got married, and started a family with someone else! I didn’t want any details.”

“Right. You didn’t want to know the truth.”

“I would’ve wanted to know that I have a son!” I roar. “Are you fucking with me? Please, don’t joke about this. Are you sure, like, a thousand percent certain that he’s mine?”

Of course he’s my son. It was stupid of me to doubt Maya for a second.

Ever since that day, I’ve felt like a complete idiot.

How did I not realize that Maya had decided to become a mother, that the little boy next to her at Preston’s games wasmine?

That’s the other thing that’s been nagging me after last week’s loss.

Maya is never going to forgive me for walking away from her, even though she’s the one who broke up with me. She’s the one who refused to respond to my calls or text messages or even my goddamn handwritten letters. Love letters from a guy who barely graduated from high school because the only thing I’ve ever been good at is hockey.

I’m depressed and angry, lost in the memories of those few blissful weeks dating Maya in the minor leagues when there’s a knock on my apartment door.

A knock, not a call from the front desk that’s supposed to ask me if I want to accept visitors before sending people up here.

Trudging over to the door in my sweatpants and wrinkled tee, I look out the peep hole. The last person I expected to see yet again is Preston freaking Lawrence.

I unlock and open the door for him. “What do you want now? Have you come to brag about your championship win ortell me that I knocked up some other girl who didn’t bother to tell me for five years?”

“You had a great season and played a damn good series. There’s nothing for you to be upset about,” Preston remarks.

“We fucking lost!” I shout at him, even though I don’t blame him. Not really. His team was better. The Warhawks beat us fair and square in four games.

“I’m well aware that you lost. It’s time to get over it and think about next season.”

“Easy for you to say, since you got to kiss the girl and the championship cup.”

“That is true,” he remarks with a grin at the mention of Elle, my ex, before he strolls past me, right into my apartment as if I invited him to stay. “And I wanted to talk to you about my news.”

“Your news about what? Elle picked you. I know that. Is she moving up to D.C. with you too or something? Thanks for the heads-up so I can start looking for someone else to cut my hair,” I mutter as I slam the door closed and then go plop back down on the sofa.

Preston takes a seat in one of the matching swivel chairs, turning it toward me. “Seriously? You haven’t heard?” When I don’t respond, he says, “Elle isn’t moving to D.C. She doesn’t have to.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I lie. I do give a shit. Not that I lost Elle to Preston, my former best friend, but that Preston gets to be with the woman he loves, knowing she loves him back.

“You really haven’t watched any sports news or been on your phone this week?”

“Hell no. I don’t want to hear all the criticisms about what we did wrong, whatIdid wrong in losing the championship.”

“Wow. Well, if you’d been online, then you would’ve seen that the Bobcats have just signed a new defenseman.”

“Good for us, I guess.”

“Elle doesn’t have to pack her bags because I’m moving to Greensboro.”

“You’re what?” I ask before it dawns on me, taking longer than it should since I’m not the sharpest skate on the ice. “Yousigned with the Bobcats?”

“I did.”

“Damn.”

“I thought you knew; Coach Bell said you gave them your approval.”

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