Page 158 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot
The moment I’m close enough, I reach out, pulling her down the last couple of steps and into my arms.
“I can’t believe you came out here,” she breathes, her voice shaking.
“Of course I did,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “What the hell did you expect me to do?”
Go about my business like she didn’t drop a bomb?
Her hands grip the collar of my jersey as she stares up at me, the noise of the arena fading into the background. People are gathering around.
Murmuring.
Cheering, even.
“I don’t know,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t sure what you’d do.”
I glance down at the crumpled sign still clutched in her hand, shaking my head with a disbelieving laugh.
“You weren’t sure?” I ask. “Austin, you put it on a damn poster.”
Typical.
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“This will do it.” I just can’t fucking believe it. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say “how can you be pregnant? It’s only been a few weeks…” but I’m not an idiot. Instead I say, “Leave it to you to make it a public roasting.”
“Would you have preferred a text?” she shoots back, the smallest flicker of her usual sarcasm cutting through the tension.
That makes me smile, despite everything. “No. This was on brand.”
I brush a strand of hair from her face, my gloved hand awkward but careful. “You’re so fucking lucky I didn’t have a heart attack in the middle of the ice.”
The crowd around us is growing exponentially.
Someone yells, “Get a room!”and I shoot them a glare, ready to snap back, but someone beats me to it.
“Go fuck yourself, she’s pregnant!” a voice shouts from somewhere behind me, sharp and unapologetic. The comment earns a ripple of laughter and cheers from the gathering fans, and I can’t help the stunned snort that escapes me.
I grab the sign. “She’s pregnant!”
Hold it up over my head, much to the delight of the fans.
“My girlfriend is pregnant!”
The arena erupts.
Applause, whistles, and chants of "Gio! Gio! Gio!" ring out from the growing crowd. People are standing on the seats now, desperate for a decent view of us—clapping and stomping their feet like I’ve just scored the game-winning goal in overtime.
Phones are out everywhere, capturing this moment that’s bound to go viral in minutes.
Everyone is so bloody stoked.
Austin covers her face with both hands, shoulders shaking—not from tears, but from embarrassed laughter.
“Oh my God,” she groans through her fingers. “This is insane.”
I turn to the fans and wave the sign one last time for good measure. The cheers grow louder, a deafening roar that reverberates through the arena.
Ha ha. “Get used to it.”
