Page 49 of Arresting the Hockey Player
Even the private investigator hadn't found much, but it had only been a few days since the paternity results.
I head inside the building, through the main doors, when I catch sight of Jasmine. She's got one hell of a black eye, and the little boy has a matching one too.
I curse as I lead her to the elevator and upstairs.
"I thought you were leaving town?"
"I was going to," Jasmine says, "but I wanted to wait for the paternity results."
I hit the button for the penthouse suite, my jaw tight as I stare at the little boy in her arms. I don't have to ask who gave them the black eye.
"You should have been at a hotel or a shelter. Somewhere safe."
"I know. That's why I called you."
She follows me through the front door and places Zayn on the couch, making herself at home. She unzips his coat and slides off his shoes before dropping a kiss on his cheek. "Stay here, okay?"
He wordlessly nods, and she grabs my arm, pulling me down the hallway out of earshot.
"I'm leaving town."
"What?" My voice raises an octave. "You can't keep my son from me."
"I'm not. I want him to stay with you, where it's safe," Jasmine says. "You have the resources to protect him. I don't." Her eyes glisten and I exhale a heavy breath.
"What about your ex?"
"He won't be a problem. He doesn't care about Zayn, now that he knows the boy isn't his."
"You told him?" I'm steaming as I pace the length of the hallway. The little boy is still seated on the couch but he's several feet away, mostly out of earshot.
"He saw the paternity results. All he knows is that he's not the father, and he told me he was glad because then he didn't have to take care of thelittle one."
How she sayslittle onemakes me think those weren't his exact words. They were likely more colorful and expletives. I wince and nod. "It won't take long until he realizes I'm the father. He'll put two and two together. He knows we were dating before the two of you got hitched."
He hadn't mentioned it tonight on the ice, but maybe he found out after the game.
"Even if he attempts to fight for custody, he's not biologically related to Zayn. And I have legal documentation that signs over my rights to you. It's all with my lawyer." She slides her hand into her coat pocket and retrieves a business card.
"If you have a lawyer, why aren't you requesting a divorce and an order of protection?" I can't believe she'd walk away from her child, our child.
"I told you, Grant has a brother in law enforcement. Besides, isn't this what you want? Me out of your life and custody of your son?" Jasmine stares at me, her eyes glistening.
I bite down on my tongue. "I assumed that you'd want to share custody." But it had crossed my mind that if she went anywhere near Grant Brass, I'd fight to protect my child.
"I should go."
"Where?" I ask, staring at her. "If you need money or a place to stay, I can get you a hotel and help you—"
"I don't want your handouts," Jasmine says.
I wince. It wasn't intended as a handout or charity. She is the mother of my child, even if I don't particularly like her after how she hurt me.
I exhale a sigh. "You can't go back to him."
"Why not?" she asks, staring up at me. Her bottom lip juts out, and I glance away toward the large windowpane that overlooks the New York skyline. It's gorgeous at night, but at the moment feels chaotic and overwhelming right now.
"He'll beat you to death. Is that not reason enough? Look at what he did to our son!" My voice booms and a shiver courses through her.
