Page 57 of Player Misconduct
“You didn’t know what to say,” I repeat, my voice sharp. “So you made something up.”
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he insists, and that quiet, practiced sincerity almost works—almost. “Wearetalking again. I do still care about you. And youare…” He trails off, lowering his voice. “You are pregnant, right?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Tarron, you don’t get to make announcements about my body. You don’t get to say anything about this. I haven’t even decided what I want to do yet.”
There’s a pause. His tone softens. “You’re right. I crossed a line. I just… panicked. I wanted to say something that made sense.”
I don’t believe him, but I want to. I want to believe that his days of hurting me are over. That putting me first is something he’s capable of once in his life.
“Then next time, try sayingno comment.”
He sighs, and for a heartbeat, I hear the version of him I once trusted—the man who’d bring me dinner when I pulled overnight shifts, who’d talk about our future like it was a sure thing. “I get it,” he says. “No more media, no more comments. I’m sorry, Kendall.”
I almost believe him. I want to.
Then he adds, “Come over tonight. We’ll talk privately. No press, no cameras. I’ll order in. Just us.”
I stare at the ultrasound photo still sitting on my lap, the faint white blur of something that shouldn’t already feel like everything.
“That’s a bad idea,” I say, knowing that his charms obviously still work on me at some level. No matter how much he’s done to me, there’s still a part of me that wants to trust him. “I have a lot to do before the players come back next month. I don’t want to make this mess any bigger than it already is.”
He’s quiet for a beat. “You’re really not giving me a chance, are you?”
“Tarron, we had our chances. You burned through all of them and you’re still doing it. I can’t trust you. Can’t you see that?”
Silence stretches, heavy and strange. Then he exhales, defeated. “All right. No more media. No more statements. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“Just don’t write me off yet. I’ll show you that you can trust me. I’m going to prove it.”
“We’ll see.”
I hang up before he can say anything else.
The car is silent again except for the drumming rain. I glance down at the ultrasound photo one more time, thumb brushing the glossy edge.
He says he’s sorry. He might even mean it this time.
But believing him now would mean trusting the man who taught me what it feels like to fall for the wrong kind of love.
And I’m not making that mistake again.
This baby will never feel that kind of loss or pain. I have a chance to do what my mother and her mother never could. I’m going to shower this baby with every ounce of love I have.
I will protect my baby’s peace.
No matter the cost.
Now that this is real, I have the thought to text Aleksi. But what would I say.
“Hey, funny story…”
Or…
“Remember how you offered to help me with my quarantine regret? Surprise…
How about…
