Page 170 of Slapshot Baby

She’s been faithful and practically gummed to my hip since that fateful day she came into the hospital room.

That only means one thing.

The most basic, fundamental foundation of our relationship is broken.

My throat closes. Pain fills my chest slowly, the weight growing by the second.

Ava doesn’t trust me.

Through every confession and every I'm yours and every time I told her I wasn't going anywhere, she still couldn't tell me.

If despite everything, Ava couldn’t tell me about the baby, she might never trust me.

I set the phone down on the coffee table, screen up, voicemail notification still visible.

The shower stops. The pipes clank. There’s silence, then the soft sound of a towel pulling from the rack. The bathroom door opens.

Ava steps out wrapped in steam and a towel, her wet hair leaving dark tracks on her shoulders. She's smiling. Soft, satisfied, open.

She looks at my face and the smile freezes.

"What happened?"

"Your phone rang." My voice is filled with pain. "Dr. Fernandez's office. They left a voicemail confirming your prenatal appointment on Thursday."

Her hand grips the towel at her chest. Her mouth opens. Closes.

My gaze hardens. "How far along are you, Ava?"

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AVA

Nothing Left to Hide

I’ve never seen Kai's hands shake.

Not while he was in the hospital with amnesia. Not when he had to undergo all the hurdles to play hockey for his team again.

But they're shaking now as they hold my phone.

I'm standing in the doorway of the bathroom, towel wrapped around me, hair dripping cold lines down my back. Steam curls past my shoulders into the cooler air.

His brown eyes lift to mine and everything inside me seizes.

They’re filled with hurt. Raw, disbelieving hurt on the face of a man who trusted me with the parts of himself he couldn't remember.

"Your phone rang." His voice is so controlled it sounds rehearsed, except for the slight fracture on the last syllable. "Dr. Fernandez's office. They left a voicemail confirming your prenatal appointment on Thursday."

This is it. The moment you've been running from since you peed on three sticks in your mother's bathroom and watched them all turn positive.

"How far along are you, Ava?"

"Kai, let me explain."

"How far along, Ava?"

"Almost five months."