Page 69 of Player Misconduct
Her eyes flicker to mine like she’s not sure what to do with that, then she sighs and lets it go. It’s a win. One small step in the right direction to show her that I’m here to support her. I’m going to keep showing it until she believes it–feels she can count on it.
We walk out together, the hall echoing with the faint mumbles of her neighbors’ TVs.
She buckles her seatbelt, notices the pile of books on the backseat, and blinks. “Some light reading before bed?”
I glance at the stack–What to Expect When You’re Expecting,The Expectant Father,Crib Safety 101.“Trying to catch up,” I admit. “I want to be ready before the baby gets here.”
She arches a brow. “You realize most first-time dads panic their way through this, right?”
“I’m not panicking.”
She gives me a look that says she doesn’t believe me.
“Okay,” I say, giving in. Lying won’t get me anywhere with her. Honesty is the only way to win her over, “I’m preparing so I don’t panic. You know me… I like to know the facts.”
That earns a soft laugh, the first real one I’ve heard from her in weeks. It feels like sunlight breaking through a storm. But when the laughter fades, silence slips back in–comfortable and heavy all at once. There’s still a lot we both have to say but neither of us are saying it.
“I’ve never done this before,” I say quietly, eyes on the road. “I don’t want to screw it up.”
Her gaze turns toward the window, watching the blur of the city roll by. “You won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you care too much to get it wrong,” she says simply, glancing over at me. “You don’t do halfway, Aleksi. Not with hockey. Not with people. Not with me.”
That last part hits me. It’s exactly the thing I want her to see in me. It’s the way my father treated everyone and how he did everything before he passed. He never did anything halfway and I don’t want to either. I swallow hard, unsure what to say, so I just nod.
At a red light, I reach across the console and rest my hand gently on her belly. “I can’t wait for this little one to get here,” I say.
Her lips part slightly, breath catching, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she places her hand over mine, letting it linger there. The world outside the windshield goes quiet. It’s just us for a moment.
When the light turns green, I reluctantly pull my hand back, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary.
“Like I said before. You don’t have any obligation to do anything,” she says softly, like she’s trying to protect me from my own heart.
“Is it okay with you that I want to?”
She nods. “But that doesn’t mean this is going to be easy. Or that there won’t be consequences to both of our careers for this. We need a plan.”
We drive the rest of the way mostly in silence, broken only by her humming along to the radio. Every now and then, she presses her hand absentmindedly against her stomach, and Icatch myself watching her reflection in the window instead of the traffic ahead.
She’s glowing, even if she won’t admit it.
Not the cliché kind–more like a quiet light that lives under her skin, something she built herself out of resilience and stubbornness.
I park in front of the clinic, shift into park, and glance over. “Ready?”
She exhales through her nose, fingers gripping her seatbelt. “As I’ll ever be.”
As we walk inside, I think about how strange this all is. How a month ago I was halfway across the world convincing myself to let her go, and now I’m walking beside her toward the first glimpse of the possible future ahead of us.
And somehow, I already know that whatever happens after this appointment, I’m never going to be able to walk away again.
“Dr. Rodriguez will be right in,” the nurse says, smiling before she slips out.
The door clicks shut, leaving us alone in the exam room.
Kendall climbs onto the table, tugging her blouse up to reveal the small curve of her belly. I sit in the chair beside her, my knee bouncing before I can stop it.
