Page 32 of Power Play
"It's alright. I can go home and pretend like everything's okay. I'll call an OBGYN and get an appointment. I don't have one because I just moved to town."
"Use Carter's. She's used to complicated parental situations," Coach says. That's smart. She handled Carter's blended family situation with grace.
I nod, before leading her to my truck.
Chapter seventeen
Garrett
If I thought I couldn't hate myself more, I'd just found a new low. Lacey told me yesterday she could be pregnant with my kid, and what did I do? Iliterallyran away. I really am the piece of shit my dad thinks I am. And I'm the fuck up my team thinks I am.
But a baby? A partner? A child? I wouldn't know the first thing about taking care of a baby or raising a child. Co-parenting with Lacey? It would be a fucking disaster, and I would have to watch her grow more and more disappointed with me. Lacey's the only one in the fucking world who thinks I'm not a total fuck up.
Even our hate fuck was warranted. I'd been riled up by a phone call from my father’s lawyer, reminding me of the situation I'm in, and Tracey had been following me around like a lost puppy all day. I'd needed an outlet, and she'd been an easy target.
But what I wasn't expecting was how much it affected me. I've fucked plenty of women in the past. But I've never hate fucked up against an elevator wall. It was so raw, passionate, and primal. I'd spun both of us up so tight and twisted, we'd exploded with sexual chemistry. It was dirty and fast and hard. And something about it has changed my DNA. I want that. Over and over and over again. I'd already been planning to get her riled up when I went into her office yesterday, hoping for an in-house angry fuck against the wall.
What I was not planning on, though, is her news. Pregnant. With a baby. A tiny, fragile little baby.
Shame has been washing over me in waves. I didn't sleep at all last night. But at least Coach and Ben are good men. They stepped up. They'll take care of her and the baby. The idea of another man taking care of my baby, though, makes me uneasy. Will they take care of it the same if it does turn out to be mine? Fuck, I hope so.
"Jonesy!" Coach Ward shouts as I hit the ice.
I wince. I skate over to where he's sitting in the box.
"Blue line drill. Everyone else work on the nets."
I'm being punished. The blue line drill is where we skate as fast and hard as we can between the blue lines in sprints. It's also called bag skating because of how goddamn tired you are at the end of it.
But he's the coach. I watch as the rest of my team dump pucks towards the goals on opposite sides, giving me sideways glances. They know Coach is punishing me, but they don't know why. I look at Ben. He looks down. He knows why Coach is punishing me.
But what choice do I have? If I push back, he'll bench me.
With a sigh, I push off and start the drill. After fifteen breath-stealing minutes of skating, I look at Coach, looking for a reprieve, but he only has eyes for me. He's standing at the bench, large arms crossed in front of his large chest, staring. His whistle hangs just below his forearms, but he looks like he's not going to blow it anytime soon. My thighs are quivering, my knees are killing me. Sweat is pouring down my face. We skate like this during games, but our lines are only ever out for a few minutes at a time before we're back on the bench relaxing. No one does this kind of intensity for this length of time.
Oh, fuck.
I abandon my drill as I realize my breakfast is about to make a reappearance. I skate to the boards where I know a large trash can lives, letting the boards stop my approach before I bend over the boards and hurl. Three more heaves and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Fuck, it's been a while since I threw up at a practice. The last time was because I was hungover, not running sprints.
Coach appears next to me. "Don't bother lacing up for tomorrow's game. You're benched for the rest of the season."
Panic shoots through me as I look up. His face is deadly serious. He's angry, disappointed, and on the warpath.
"But you can't do that! I have to play!" My voice is whiny even to myself.
"No, you don't. But you do have to own your mistakes and man up. I employ men on this team, not boys, so until you figure out how to become a man, you can sit your ass down."
Just then, I spot Lacey over Coach's shoulder. Her shocked expression makes the shame reappear.
She walks to Coach's side, putting a delicate hand on his arm.
"Don't do that, Scott." She looks at me briefly, and I spot the hurt in her eyes. Hurt that I caused. Hurt that I put there. So, my choices were, hurt the only girl now who ever saw something in me, or watch her as she gradually gets more and more disappointed with me.
What a fucking catch-22.
Then I think about a child, looking at me with that same disappointment and want to throw up all over again.
And the even shittier thing? She's coming to my rescue now, when I couldn't bother to even hear her out yesterday.
