Page 37 of Slapshot Baby

His penthouse.

The bedroom where he told me to keep my eyes open. The wall where he drove into me until I screamed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because you need space to recover. Having people show up the second you get home kind of defeats the purpose of leaving the hospital.”

It’s a perfectly logical excuse.

It also has absolutely nothing to do with why I can’t go there.

“Mira will be there,” he says. “It’s not like we’d be alone.”

It’s almost like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

"Kai..."

"You've visited me every day for almost two weeks. Now I'm getting released and you're pulling back?"

"I'm not pulling back. I'm being realistic."

He sets the cookie box aside and stands.

I swallow hard. From this angle, I have to tilt my head back to see his face. He's tall. I'd forgotten how tall. Sitting in heels, the difference is significant.

"Tell me the real reason," he says.

Because the last time I was in your penthouse, you made me feel things I’ve spent weeks trying to forget.

Because nothing about the way I feel around you is safe.

Because I’m carrying your baby, and you have no idea.

I’ve spent the last few days convincing myself there’s only one way to handle this.

Walk away.

Once he’s settled at home, I’ll email him and tell him about the baby. It’s cowardly, and I know it. But he doesn’t know where I live. I can tell him the truth without having to stand in front of him and watch his face when he realizes what one night with me left behind.

And after that, I don’t have to see him again.

The thought makes my chest ache.

Which is exactly why I need to do it.

Right?

"I told you the real reason."

"No, you didn't. You gave me the version you thought was okay.”

My lips part. Nothing comes out. How the hell does he do that?

He's standing close enough that I can feel heat coming off his body. He smells like soap and masculine cologne, the scent that lived on my pillowcase for days after I left his bed.

"Come to the penthouse," he says again, quieter.