Page 63 of Player Misconduct
“I wasn’t sure at first,” she goes on, voice trembling just a little. “I took another one. And another. And by the sixth, I realized I wasn’t in denial, I was just wasting money.”
A breath of a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth despite everything. “Sounds like something you’d do.”
But the humor dies fast. Because none of it explains why I had to find out like this.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Kendall?”
Her fingers slip away from mine. She folds her arms, like she’s bracing for impact. “Because it wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“Bullshit,” I say before I can stop myself. I don’t like the fact that I cursed at her but she can’t possibly think that a baby doesn’t change everything. “You think I’d find out you were pregnant with my kid and it wouldn’t change anything?”
Her chin lifts, stubborn as hell. “You had your life in Finland. Your family. Your team. A girlfriend—”
That word stops me. “A what?”
She blinks. “The woman in your pictures. The brunette. The one you took skating and got ice cream with. The one your mom loves.”
It takes a second before I realize she’s serious, and then I rack my brain for any brunette I spent time with in Finland but I didn’t spend any time with anyone… except for my sister who came back from France early with dyed hair. If you ask me, she looks better as a blonde but after thirty-four years of knowing my sister, I know better than to comment on her hair.
“You mean Saara? My twin sister?”
Her mouth falls open. “Oh my God.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “There’s no one in Finland I’m seeing. You really thought I moved on that fast? Or frankly… at all?”
“I thought your sister was in France? And then you didn’t call,” she says, voice small. “You didn’t text. And after Tarron’s interview, and the photos… it just seemed like maybe it was for the best if everyone thought it was his, and you could keep living your life. I didn’t want to—”
“Saara internship finished early. And you didn’t want to what?”
She meets my eyes then, and there’s so much guilt and sadness tangled in hers that it knocks the air out of me. “Ruin things for you.”
I blink. “Ruin things for me?”
“You’d have dropped everything,” she says, her words rushing now like she’s afraid if she stops, she’ll lose her nerve. “You’d have given up the team, your career, your whole life, just to do what you thought was right. And I couldn’t let you do that. What if this doesn’t work?”
My heart’s pounding. “I’m not Tarron.”
“I know that,” she says, voice cracking. “But the league doesn’t. The medical board doesn’t. If they found out, it’d look like the same story all over again—doctor and player, scandal and suspension. You’d be labeled, and I’d lose everything I’ve worked for. I just… I can’t go through that again. And all the work you and your father put into your hockey career. That would have all been for nothing if they benched you, or traded you… or worse.”
Her voice drops to almost a whisper. “So I needed to protect the little bit of peace I had left. For me. For the baby. I was going to find a way to tell you once I thought of a way to make sure you didn’t drop your life for us.”
The silence between us feels like it could crack the floor. I should be angry. And part of me is. Not angry that she didn’t tell me. I’m upset that she doesn’t trust me enough to tell me and let me fix this between us. I’m upset that she thought she had to go through all of this alone.
“You really thought I’d find out that the baby is mine and then I would do what Tarron did to you?” I finally ask.
She looks up, tears clinging to her lashes. “No, I think you’d do the opposite. I think you’d pick me and the baby over everything even if it’s not what you want,” she says. “I think you're the kind of man who would sacrifice your own happiness for responsibility and duty. But I can’t let you do that for me… for us.”
Jesus. She actually believes that.
“You didn’t even give me the chance,” I say quietly.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair. I want to grab her. I want to kiss her. I want to tell her she’s not alone in this—not for one more second.
But she’s shaking, and I can tell she’s been holding this together with tape and stubbornness for weeks.
So instead, I do the only thing that feels right.
I put my hand back on her stomach.
