Page 97 of The Pucking Date
“Wait—what?” A chuckle. “You’re serious? They matched it?”
She pauses, listening. Nods. “No, that’s huge. He’ll be thrilled.”
Her words blur into white noise, drowned by the roar building in my chest. The bottle’s still in my hand. Plastic. Weightless. Impossible. How long has she known?
The math hits me like a slapshot to the chest. Montreal was three months ago. She would’ve known for weeks by now. Weeks of me chasing her, cajoling her to let me in, showing her how much she means to me. And she said nothing.
My fingers tighten around the plastic until it creaks. Jessica’s words drift over, bright, excited, while I sit here holding her secret.
Is it mine?
Of course it’s mine.
Right?
Why the hell wouldn’t she tell me? Was she planning to keep it quiet if I signed with LA? Raise our child like I never existed? Like that night in Montreal was just a mistake she could erase? My gut twists. Because this feeling is familiar. Not the shock, not the betrayal, something worse.
The sting of finding out too late. Of realizing everyone else knew before I did.
The year Dad’s scandal broke, I didn’t get a warning either. Just headlines. Bank statements. Questions I couldn’t answer.
My jaw locks. The bottle is still in my hand. Across the room, Jessica’s laughter fades. “Okay, I’ll call you back.”
I hear her footsteps. The soft thud of her phone hittingthe bedside table. “Finn?” Her voice is closer now. Happy. Unsuspecting. “That was Joy. The Under Armour deal came through?—”
She stops. I look up, meeting her eyes, the bottle still clutched in my fist. And watch her whole world shatter in real time.
The same way mine just did.
22
GROUND ZERO
JESSICA
The words were right there. Hovering between my lips and his skin. His hand on my waist. His come still inside me. His voice in my ear, low and lazy, like the question didn’t matter.
“You on anything, Red?”
Like he wasn’t worried. Like he wouldn’t bail on me either way. If there was ever a moment, that was it. The light. The quiet. The way he looked at me like he’s already made a choice—and it was me.
But then my phone buzzed. And the moment cracked. Just one second. That’s all it took. One second to break the rhythm, to reach for the call, and let the truth slip through my fingers.
Now I’m pacing his living room in his shirt, phone pressed to my ear, listening to Joy’s voice.
“They matched it,” Joy rambles, breathless. “Under Armour signed. Rothschild greenlit the full match with performance bonuses. They gave him eighty-four over six. It’s not just a match; it’s a statement. Marcus is looped in, butthey sent the final terms to you, guess they figured you earned it.”
I press a hand to my chest, like that’ll ground me. “Wait—what? You’re serious? They matched it?”
“Yeah.” Joy laughs. “He’ll finally be able to relax.”
She’s not wrong. For weeks, Finn’s been stuck in contract limbo while LA dangled their offer. To everyone else, he seemed chill, but I saw the strain, the way he skated like he was trying to outrun pressure.
And I’ve been holding my breath, not knowing what telling him about the baby would do. Would he run? Would this news trap him here or send him to LA?
So I waited, stalling until I knew his options. But now Under Armour’s in. The Defenders matched. He deserves to know before he makes the biggest decision of his life.
If he’s in? Great. If not? Fine.
