Page 50 of Misconduct Zone

“I’m done.” She lowers her camera. “These’ll be up within the hour.”

Coach barks, “Get your asses in gear, I want a scrimmage.”

We put the fun on hold.

Hours later, after the Enforcers’ Halloween event for kids, I shut myself in Patrik’s guest bathroom to change. The belly is awkward, and I wish I had help, but that would ruin the shock value. The shirt’s tight around the arms and belly, but I grin at myself in the mirror.

“Watch out, coming through, pregnant lady needs a seat.” I strut in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows so everyone has a good view.

Trevor claps his hands. “I knew it’d look good on you. The lavender complements the green in your hazel eyes.”

I arch back with my hands on my hips. “Yeah, I’m a gorgeous mom-to-be. Thankfully, I’m not single.” I turn around, and everyone erupts in laughter.

“We did it, Sweetheart.” I blow a kiss to Lars who, like a good sport, catches it and places it over his heart. This is so over-the-top no one suspects we’re an actual couple.

“Dayyyummm, I want a Daddy Drake,” Caleb pouts, getting several curious glances.

I’ve never had a thought like that, wanting a stranger in a sexual way. In all my past relationships, the women pursued me. My subconscious files that fact away for later.

“No more shit about me and Gray whenhe’sadmitting he’s Drake’s property,” Austin yells.

“Sure thing, lovey. Nice costumes.” Finn points to their matching Thing 1 and Thing 2 onesies.

“We should do a roommate costume challenge next year,” Caleb says.

“Trevor and I vill vin. No need for a contest.” Patrik shrugs and Caleb nods glumly.

Lars traces his name on my back and smirks at Trevor. “You did a good job.”

“I know. Finn provided the inspiration, and I brought it to life.” Trevor adjusts my belly.

“It’s what you do best.” Patrik tugs Trevor away, and Lars’s scowl disappears.

Possessive men.

Fuck it’s hot.

The guys touch my belly, wondering what it feels like and how heavy it is.

“I could wear this all night,” I brag with a wink at Finn. He thought this would annoy me. Nope.

An hour later, it’s itchy and too uncomfortable to sit, and I’m tired of standing after practice, but my pride won’t allow me to take it off.

Jamal brings me a glass of ice with a little water. “You’re sweating. You don’t have to wear it.”

I drink the water and place the glass on my forehead. A ferocious wave of need barrels through me, and my hand shakes with the desire for a drink. Not any drink. My favorite drink as a teen. Maker’s Mark. The preferred drink of choice at events like this. The phantom taste of it sits on my tongue. My rational brain battles to take over and list all the positive reasons to maintain my sobriety. But the devil in me wants to lean closer to Jamal to smell his breath for the beer I saw him drink earlier. I roll my shoulders to get my head on straight and ease the ache in my lower back.

“Thanks, I needed this. I appreciate you, King.” I fist-bump him, trying to act normal.

“My good deed is done so I’m out.” Jamal waves and I watch in envy. Scanning the room, I doubt anyone would notice if I took a drink.

Just a sip.

Lars catches my attention, and I dissolve into a puddle of shame not fit for him to step in. Standing upright is an illusion. I’m a million pieces of trashlittering the beautiful home of incredible men. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong.

My gut clenches at the thoughts I’ve tried so hard to rid myself of. I thought I’d conquered my demons, but I’m no further along than I was a year ago. Worse because my ego made me believe I was better.

“You ready to leave too?” Lars asks, so close his breath brushes my ear. I fight a tremor along with the voice telling me I don’t deserve him.

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