Having her in the next room isn’t easy. I wonder what she’s doing? Does she spend her time thinking about me as much as I do her? I don’t even recognize myself. Even though none of this matters. I won’t be in a committed relationship and neither will she, and just sex is off the table. That leaves me feeling unsatiated and unsettled.
After drying myself off, I pull on a pair of boxers and slide into bed. The house is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop and suddenly I think I hear a soft moan. Is it her? Does she have someone in her room? Or is she getting herself off? The thought makes my cock hard all over again.
Twenty
Holland
My eyes fly open. I look up at the window and the blinds are wide open. It’s dark. I lean over and check the time on my cell. It’s 3:00 a.m. I hear a sound and I sit up. Someone’s crying out. At first I’m startled, but then I realize it sounds like Cole. OMG is he okay? He groans like he’s in physical pain. I stare down at myself. I’m wearing a tank top and a pair of short sleep shorts, so I figure it’s okay to go check on him like this. I leave my room and hear him cry out again. Is he crying? My heart gallops in my chest as I pad on over to his door and knock lightly.
“Cole,” I say.
I don’t get an answer but the groaning continues and my guess is he’s having a nightmare, so I slowly open his door and peek inside his room. Cole is lying on his back and he’s crying. His whole body is shaking. My stomach sinks as I make my way over to him.
“Cole.” I place a hand gently on his shoulder, not wanting to startle him. “Cole,” I try again, but whatever he’s dreaming has sucked him into another world.
“I want her back, Celia,” he pleads, and my heart skips a beat and I take a step back from him. “She was supposed to have more time,” he says and my heart aches. He must be dreaming about his mother. What I don’t understand is who Celia is? Hearing that name causes my own pain to resurface because it never really goes away. Celia, my mom’s name. I wonder who this woman named Celia is to him.
He doesn’t settle and so I make the choice to slide into bed next to him. I place an arm around him and whisper in his ear that it’s going to be okay. He settles, even though I know it isn’t my words that have helped him because it isn’t going to be okay. He lost his mom too young and had his life turned upside down.
I crack an eye open because I get that weird feeling one gets when they are being watched. As I stare at the hunky man next to me with a crooked grin, I realize he is definitely fixated on me. I close my eye.
“What are you doing in my bed?” he asks playfully. There is no evidence in his voice of the broken boy from last night, only the playful cocky jock he usually is.
I rub my hands up and down my face and then open my eyes and look at him. “What time is it?”
“Ten,” he says. “You know I’m more than happy to have you in my bed, but I thought we weren’t going there.”
“We’re not,” I confirm. “You were having a nightmare. You were pretty shaken up. I couldn’t wake you so I settled in beside you and you relaxed.”
He frowns.
“Do you usually get nightmares?” I ask.
“Not often,” he says, and gone is playful Cole. He slinks back onto his pillow and looks up to the ceiling.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“Not really,” he says, still staring at the ceiling.
I don’t mean to pry but it’s been bothering me since last night. “Who is Celia?” I ask. I swallow hard, not only because I don’t know if he will answer the question but because saying my mom’s name still burns.
He remains quiet.
“Cole?”
“Why are you asking?” he finally says. He seems to have shut down on me.
“B-because Celia was my mom’s name and obviously you don’t know that but. . .”
His eyes snap to mine. They look haunted. “She was. . .this woman,” he says.
I want to reach out and touch him. Find a way to soothe his pain but I hold back.
“She was a patient in the same room as my mom at the hospital. My mom was okay. They said that she had more time. There was a good chance she could fight but then she had a stroke from a side effect of the meds. . .” he chokes on the words.
“I’m so sorry.” I lean over and hug him. He wraps an arm over me and holds me but he stays quiet. “Was your mom at Westfall General?”
“Yeah,” he nods.
My mind drifts back to the day he bought me roses after I saved his life when he had an allergic reaction to the eggplant. He said he lost his mom sophomore year. That means I was a freshman. Which means we lost our moms the same year.
“Cole?” I ask. “Can you tell me more about Celia?”
“She was undergoing treatment too. I’d go to the hospital as often as I could. Sometimes my mom wasn’t in her room because they took her for tests and Celia would be there. She would keep me company until my mom got back. She was a doctor and. . .” His eyes snap to mine again and I pull out of his grasp and sit up abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” Cole asks, sitting up too. He’s watching me like I’m a porcelain doll about to shatter into a million pieces, and maybe I am.
“Celia, she was my mom. My mom was a doctor and a patient at Westfall General,” I say and tears stream down my eyes. I get out of bed and pace his room.
“I-I. . .”
“Cole, tell me more, please,” I beg like a person who has been starved of water too long.
“Okay. Okay. She was really nice and explained to me in general terms what my mom was going through. They became friends because they shared that room for a few months.”
“Why didn’t I ever see you?” I ask him.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs.
“My mom said that she met Celia’s daughters though. She said they were super pretty and I would definitely like the younger one,” Cole says. “I told my mom I couldn’t think of girls right then because I was too worried about her.”
“And then what?” I ask, holding my palms together like I am in prayer.
“I came one day to visit my mom and she wasn’t in her room. I could tell something was wrong right away. I went to ask the nurses where Mom was and they had this creepy look in their eyes. I went back in the room and asked Celia again, and she told me that there was a complication. She had no strength but somehow she got out of her bed and held me. She let me cry in her arms and told me that it was okay to cry. That it was okay to hurt. She also told me how proud my mom was of me. Apparently, my mom spoke about me playing hockey. How I had plans to make it to the NHL,” Cole shares.
Tears stream down my eyes. Mom was with Cole’s mom.
“It was a long shot,” he says.
“You worked so hard to get where you are,” I remind him.
“Yeah.” He is all choked up too.
“Your mom told me to shoot for the stars and not let anything stop me. She said I should do what I felt passionate about. She said she always told her girls that if you don’t do what you love then life is shitty,” he says, and he laughs through tears.
I laugh through my tears too. “That sounds just like my mother. Being a doctor was a passion for her, not a prison sentence like my father wants it to be.”
“I started to really focus on hockey after that. Celia said I was going to be hurting for a long time and it would help if I focused my energy on my passions,” Cole says.
“She said the same thing to me,” I say. My eyes meet Cole’s and pain and hurt intermingle with something else in his gaze.
Suddenly I feel like I am going to vomit and I slap a hand over my mouth. My adrenaline kicks in and I make a dash for the bathroom. I get to the toilet just in time to throw up.
Cole is behind me holding my hair. I heave a little and then walk over to his sink and rinse my mouth with cold water.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I apologize.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m j
ust worried about you,” he says. “We should get you to a doctor.”
“There’s no way I’m going anywhere near Westfall General after my little heist last night. I’m sure this is just my nerves working overtime,” I assure him.
“Holland, you puked when we went to my dad’s for dinner and again now. You should get yourself checked out,” he insists.
“I feel fine,” I say and that’s when it dawns on me. “Do you think I’m sick?”
The thought terrifies me. The type of cancer Mom had was thought to be non-genetically related, but who knows.
“I’m not saying that,” Cole says, but I see he’s worried.
“I’ll go to the clinic on campus. I still have my insurance,” I say.
“Okay, so let’s go now,” he suggests.
“I need to take care of selling my car. If I don’t sell it on time, I won’t be able to foot the bill for school and I’ll get kicked out of my classes,” I tell him.
“I’ll call Daniel on the way. Hell, if I need to, I’ll drive the car to Cape Cod myself so he can sell it. Please, let’s just get to the clinic,” he pleads, and I watch him in awe because he never ceases to surprise me.
“Fine,” I agree, like I’m doing him a favor, when in reality I’m kind of nervous. Maybe there is something wrong with me.
Twenty-One
Holland
Cole insisted on driving, even though the drive is under five minutes. As we turn onto campus he says, “What are the chances?”
I know exactly what he means, because ever since I left his room about a half an hour ago to go to mine and get dressed, I can’t stop thinking of the fact that our mothers were in the hospital together. Mom’s insurance would have granted her a private room but statistics showed it was better for overall health to have another patient in the room with you. Someone who understood what you were going through. To think that person was Cole’s mom is mind-blowing. Thinking back, I do remember the woman who shared a room with Mom. She had lost her hair and wore a cover on her head. She always smiled warmly and said hi, but when I came to see Mom she was all I wanted. Our time together was limited and precious so from the minute I walked through the door to her room, I would tell her every detail about my day and she would soak up every word.
“I don’t know what to say. When you called out her name from your sleep, I didn’t know what to think. Never in a million years would I have guessed this scenario,” I admit.
“It’s kismet,” he says.
“That we became friends?” I ask for clarification.
He nods. “Yeah, I’ve never had a friend before that’s a girl and it’s been working out great. You’re easy to talk to. I like spending time with you. You get me,” he says.
“Truth is, you get me too,” I admit. “And ditto on all those other things too.”
He grins but a heaviness settles over me as I think of my symptoms. There aren’t many diseases we haven’t covered in our biology classes over the years. I mentally think of my symptoms. Vomiting, exhaustion. . . panic settles in as I think back to the Cape and my period not arriving on time. I had attributed the loss of one month’s cycle to stress. Leaving my father the way I did took a toll on me and just worrying about what his reaction would be weighed me down. I know for a fact that it isn’t unusual for a woman to skip a cycle or two due to stress, but when I add in my heightened emotions and the other factors my heart starts to beat at a rapid pace.
“Cole,” I swallow. “That night we were together. . .”
“It’s fine, no hard feelings about not remembering it. I mean it took me a while to get over the fact that you didn’t remember because I’m a memorable guy. Girls always come back for seconds,” he says and I cringe. “You’re the first girl I’ve met who isn’t affected by me, even though that statement isn’t totally accurate. That kiss in Cape Cod was hot,” he accentuates the word.
“Cole, I wasn’t trying to say anything about that night. I just wanted to know if we used protection,” I say.
Cole rubs his chin. “I always wrap it up.”
“So that’s a yes then?” I ask.
“I was very drunk too. I mean, I remember us being together,” he mutters, and he accentuates the word together also so I know that he’s referring to sex. “But I don’t remember the details exactly.”
I lean my head back on the headrest. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“If you think I gave you an STD then drop that thought fast,” he says. I hadn’t thought of that. I cringe a little.
“That isn’t where my mind was going.”
“So then what’s up with you? You’re kind of freaking me out,” he says.
We park in the lot closest to the Student Center. The doctor’s clinic is just inside.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s not cool. I thought we had a moment this morning. Like we’re growing closer.” I can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s hurt.
“We did have a moment, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions or get you worried,” I say.
I leave the car and he begins to walk with me toward the Student Center. I’m guessing he’s planning on coming inside with me. No way is he coming into my appointment though.
We head inside and check in. Cole sits beside me in the waiting room while I wait for my name to be called. Neither of us talks. All I can think is what if I am pregnant?
The doctor has sent me to the bathroom to pee on a stick. As I hold the tester in my urine stream, I pray that this isn’t positive. Wouldn’t that be a weird twist of fate. Paris accidentally gets pregnant in high school and I accidentally get pregnant in the middle of a pre-med degree. That would basically ruin my life and all my plans. What would I even do? When I leave the bathroom, a nurse calls me over and takes my blood.
“It will take twenty-four hours to get these results but the doctor can give you an almost accurate answer from the urine test,” she explains.
“Thank you,” I say. Forcing a smile right now is impossible. Not with doom looming.
The doctor made it clear that my symptoms aren’t conducive to some deadly disease. There is a possibility that I have some sort of stomach virus but it didn’t explain the missed period.
After taking my blood, the nurse walks me back to an exam room. Luckily, Cole didn’t ask to come in with me.
Gosh, Cole. I hadn’t thought of him. What would he say if he knew what was happening in here right now? Of the possibility that he could become a father in what…six months?
I burst into laughter that borderlines hysteria but I stop quickly, not wanting the doctor to walk in and think I’m insane. But seriously, how can I be pregnant? I don’t even remember having sex and now that I really think about it, that’s two missed period cycles. With Paris coming to town and spending time with Max while she’s at work, I’ve had a lot on my plate. Add to that my little heist last night and I am sure I am going to lose my shit.
The doctor walks in and I try to read her expressions, even though I’ve never met her in my life before today.
“The urine stick is positive,” she says, getting right to the point. “We still need to confirm with the blood but they have a ninety-nine percent accuracy rate.”
It is then I burst into laughter. I start laughing so hard that tears prick my eyes. I’ve gone and lost my shit. That’s for sure.
The doctor frowns but gives me a minute. “I’m guessing this was unplanned?”
“More like I don’t even remember having sex,” I say.
“Were you assaulted? Because you know you have options,” she says glumly.
I shake my head. “I wasn’t assaulted, I just drank too much and ended up in bed with a guy I had a mad crush on. And the killer punch here is that he is now like my best friend. Like we have this bond and . . .” I gasp for air.
“Take a minute, Holland, and take a few slow breaths,” she says. “Like I said, you have options.”
“I know that,” I say. “I just f
eel like as much as this screws up my life and all my plans, I can’t not have this baby.”
The doctor frowns once again. “Westfall has excellent family housing; they offer daycare services. You aren’t the first student to find herself in this predicament.”
“Really? Because I’m pre-med. My goal is to write the MCAT’s this upcoming summer. How do I do that with a newborn baby?”
The doctor presses her lips together. “It won’t be easy. If you have a strong support system you can do anything you want. I had my daughter in my third year of medical school. And yes, it was hard, but I made it through with the help of my boyfriend at the time,” she says and smirks. “My now husband.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “I was scared and confused too so I get it, but my daughter has been my greatest gift. She means more to me than well, anything.”
I have no words. I’m fucked is all I can think.
“Westfall offers excellent counselling services. Maybe you should speak to someone. They can also help to set you up with accommodations for the upcoming school year if you do decide to keep the baby,” she explains.
This doesn’t feel real.
“Why don’t we do an ultrasound today and see how things have progressed?” she asks.
“I-I don’t think I’m ready for that. This doesn’t feel real. There must be a mistake,” I say.
“I know it’s hard, Holland, but sometimes we don’t understand the bigger picture of life. We think something is awful and it turns out to be a blessing.”
“This isn’t a blessing.”
“We can book you in for later in the week, if you’d like,” she says. Damn, she’s really sure I got a baby in me. I feel like that girl on Jane the Virgin, who gets pregnant without ever having sex.
“Sure, okay,” I say, but my mind is hazy.
“Take care, Holland, and if you need anything at all, please come back here. The clinic is open seven days a week.”
“Thank you,” I say. The doctor leaves the room and I get dressed.
What will I say to Cole? How will I look at him and give him this news? Shatter his world?
Ruthless Player: A College Hockey Romance (Westfall U Series) Page 14
