Page 62 of Break

Nolan and Landon share a look and shrug. “Marie is having the babies today.”

I jolt, my spine straightening as I feel my entire body drain of blood. “What? Why? She still has four weeks left.”

Nolan sends me a look and shakes his head. “She’s thirty-six weeks. With twins. She was already dilating and Brenton said her waters were about to break. She’s going back for a c-section soon. Alyssa is promising to send us photos.”

I feel like my lungs deflate of all air, my heart rate speeds up. I’m sweating. I feel sick.

I haven’t spoken to Marie in… weeks. More than weeks. Months? It feels like years. Holy shit, what day is it?

I’ve been in therapy, busting my ass to become a better man for her and before I knew it… weeks and months passed. I was just needing some distance to sort myself out. Playing hockey and sleeping, healing, going to therapy. I even have his number in my phone to call every chance I get when I feel like drowning or booking a flight to Germany to hide from the world.

What the fuck have I done? What if something happens?

What if I never see her again?

I stand up and hold onto my seat before shakily making my way to the coaches sitting up front. The owner’s daughter, Charlie is sitting primly in her seat in the front row, glaring out the window.

“Sirs… ma’am… I need to go back home. Marie… She’s having my babies. She’s about to go in for a c-section.”

I feel like every person in the bus turns to stare and glare at me.

“Your… babies.” Coach Williams repeats slowly, as if I’m speaking another language.

I nod and close my eyes. “I didn’t know they were mine until recently...”

They stare me down and Charlie chuckles, throwing her head back and laughing out loud so hard I’m afraid she might choke. “Oh, this is gold. We’re in the fucking playoffs and our own team captain, our best right winger, is about to fly back to bum fuck Minnesota because he finally wants to step up and be a daddy?” She snorts and shakes her head. “Marie is too good for you, you fucking pig.”

I stagger back and nod, leaning against the seats to my right and stare down at my feet. “I agree.”

My coaches sigh and glance around. “Xavier, you’re moving up to first line, taking James’s place. As soon as we park, everyone is heading straight to the ice. We will be skating, training, fucking pushing ourselves harder than you ever have before. Apparently we have to send a prince back home to his princess.” Coach Williams rolls his eyes and points to the seat across from him. “Sit your ass down. I want a phone call as soon as you land. I want pictures of those babies. And I want you to man the fuck up. You’re an embarrassment to not only the entire team, but I hope that whatever good ancestors you have are rolling around in their graves. Fucking little jackass running away from a pregnant woman to cry onto the ice across the fucking country without saying a word to us.”

I blink at him and he flips me off.

“You’ll understand when you’re a father… oh wait. Fuck off. As soon as we park you take your ass back to the jet and have the pilot call me. I’ll get your pansy ass home.”

I nod shakily and keep my mouth shut, pulling out my phone to text Alyssa and Caroline for updates.

The photos start rolling in without question. Do they know that Marie’s babies are mine?

The girls are on either side of a glaring Marie, she’s flipping off the camera in several of the photos, but so far she looks great. Rosy cheeked, swollen, and pregnant. Still pregnant.

Beautiful.

As soon as we park, I jump off the bus and dig through the compartments for my bags. The taxi is already waiting for me. At least Williams works quickly. I wave off my team, wishing them luck, and leaving the playoffs behind. Fuck. Daniel is going to fucking kill me.

I’m a mess of nerves, my entire body is strung so tight I feel like I’m going to snap.

I tap into the WIFI once I’m in the air and I feel my eyes tearing up the first time in what feels like decades.

Alyssa is in the operating room with Marie, two tiny babies on her naked chest.

They’re here. And I’m a coward, not there.

I race to the bathroom, dropping to my knees and expelling everything I’ve eaten today. I feel sick, and not just from my stomach and stress, but deep into my bones, my cells, my everything.

What have I done?

I’m sick with myself. I haven’t spoken or even looked at Marie since the day she told me the truth. That smart, gorgeous, kind woman told me the truth. She was terrified, and she still did it. My therapist has been busting his ass with me, several hours a week, helping me through my childhood traumas, on how to be a better man, a good father.

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