A Lie for a Lie

by Hunting, Helena

  “Come on, little man, let’s get you some dinner.”

  Lainey keeps bottles in the fridge, and there’s a box of baby cereal on the counter, probably from this morning. I put Kody in his saucer to bounce around while I follow the directions to make him dinner and heat up a bottle to go with it.

  Word to the wise: feeding a baby cereal the consistency of . . . things I’d rather not compare it to is messy business. By the time I’m done, Kody has food in his hair and all over his neck, his bib, and his hands.

  I somehow have managed to get it all over my shirt as well. I don’t have a change of clothes, so I’m forced to use a dishcloth to clean off the spots. Then I take Kody to the bathroom, run him a tepid bath, and wash all the cereal off him before I give him his bottle.

  It’s well after six by the time we’re done with dinner and the bath, and I still haven’t eaten. I don’t want to make unnecessary noise on the off chance it’ll wake Lainey up, plus the smell might not go well with nausea.

  I take stock of what’s in her pantry and the fridge and decide a shopping trip is necessary. There’s a small grocery store down the street where I can pick up a few things for her and something for me. I leave a note on her night table and get Kody dressed in his going-out gear.

  Getting him into the stroller is another epic feat, but I figure it out. Lainey has one of those baby carrier things where I can strap him to my body, but there’s about seven hundred yards of fabric that I don’t know what to do with, so I leave that for another time.

  I don’t take into account that this is Kody’s fussy time of day, or the fact that I can’t see him as he squawks his irritation, probably at still being awake and not in his mother’s arms. I manage to pick up the necessities, such as ginger ale, soda crackers, chicken soup, sports drinks, and some bread and cold cuts so I can make myself some sandwiches when we get back to the apartment. I also pick up a pizza slice and devour it while I’m loading things on the belt.

  Kody’s turned into a banshee by the time I finish paying. People give me looks ranging from pity to something like disdain and judgment. His face is beet red, mouth wide open as he screams, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Okay, little man, I hear you. We’re going home now.” I unbuckle him from the restraints, wondering if maybe they’re too tight, but as soon as I lean in close enough, I know that’s not it.

  “Oh sh—” I manage to censor myself just as a woman with a kid probably a few years older than Kody passes me. “Smells like you’re up to no good,” I tell Kody.

  Of course, I didn’t have the foresight to bring his diaper bag, so I’m forced to buy a pack of diapers, cream, and wipes so I can take care of the situation before we head home. I’m grateful that there’s an extra sleeper in the stroller, because he’s demolished the one he’s currently wearing.

  I use half the package of wipes, aware that bath time round two is going to take place as soon as we’re home. The smell rivals the inside of a hockey bag combined with an outhouse.

  By the time we get back it’s after seven, and by the time I’m done with the bath routine it’s almost eight, which is way past Kody’s usual bedtime, so it makes sense that he’s cranky as hell. I at least have the foresight to get a bottle ready before his bath so I can feed him again as soon as he’s clean, dry, and dressed in his jammies. I pick the hockey-themed ones, for obvious reasons. It doesn’t take much to get him to fall asleep, and I have a feeling I won’t be far behind him.

  Once he’s in bed I check on Lainey again; she’s still sleeping. Her phone buzzes, so I snatch it up as I pull the door closed behind me, not wanting to disturb her. The name on the screen reads MOM. I let it go to voice mail.

  I’m aware her mother knows that I’m back in her life. I haven’t pushed for a lot of details on the situation there, but this distance she’s created has been purposeful. I’m also aware that she speaks to her mother several times a week, which tells me that—as much as Lainey wants to prove she can do this on her own—there’s still a lot of love there.

  Her mom calls again less than fifteen minutes later, so I answer this time. “Hello.”

  “I’m sorry—I must have dialed the wrong number.”

  “You’re looking for Lainey?”

  That makes her pause. “I . . . yes. Who is this?”

  “It’s RJ. Rook, Lainey’s . . . friend.” I cringe a little at that. I don’t think I’d classify myself as her friend at this point, but she’s not referring to me as her boyfriend, and it’s not like there have been a lot of opportunities for dating. Middle-of-the-night accidental spooning doesn’t really count.

  Her mother scoffs. “Is that what you’re calling yourself, now? You get my daughter pregnant, lie to her about who you are, and then it’s a year before you show your face again. Some friend you are. I suppose you think that just because you’re some big-time hockey player none of the usual rules apply to you.”

  As much as getting chewed out by Lainey’s mom sucks, I get where she’s coming from. And I tell her as much. “With all due respect, Mrs. Carver, I understand why you’re unhappy with me. If I had a daughter and this happened to her, I would do everything in my power to protect her—and I sure as heck wouldn’t have any kind of warm feelings toward that guy, which I realize is me in this case.”

  “Well, I can’t say you’re wrong about my feelings toward you. Lainey’s always been a special girl—she’s delicate—”

  “Maybe not as delicate as you think, though.”

  “You don’t know what she’s been through.”

  “You mean the shooting at her college?”

  “She told you about that?” She seems shocked.

  “She did. Alaska has some pretty bad storms in the summer, which is an understandable trigger for her.”

  “She never talks about that with anyone,” her mother says softly. “I’d like to speak with her now, please.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Carver. As much as I’d like to be able to get her for you, she’s not well, and she’s sleeping right now. I’m sure you can understand why I wouldn’t want to wake her up.”

  “Unwell? What’s wrong?”

  “I think she has the flu.”

  “The flu? You better not have gotten my daughter pregnant again.”

  There’s real threat behind her words. “I’m sure it’s the flu and that she’s definitely not pregnant. That’s not . . . that would be impossible.” And that, right there, has to be the most awkward of awkward first conversations with the woman I’m assuming will one day be my mother-in-law.

  “Well, that’s a relief.” I think that’s sarcasm, but I can’t be sure. “How sick is she? Should you take her to the hospital? Do I need to come out there? I kept telling her working at an aquarium wouldn’t be good for her. It’s a cesspool of germs and disease. It’s actually amazing that she hasn’t gotten sick before now. She really just needs to be done with this and come home so she can have the help she needs to raise that child.”

  “Lainey has me.”

  “Is that right? And for how long is that going to be the case? Do you know anything about raising children? Who’s going to be there when you’re traveling all over the place and she’s taking care of that baby alone?”

  “She has friends here, and so do I. There are other wives—”

  “Other wives?” she screeches in my ear. “Oh my God, did you elope? Did you marry my daughter without even asking permission first?”

  I can see now why Lainey ended up moving halfway across the country. “No, that’s not . . . I meant the other players’ wives. We didn’t elope. I’ve made a lot of mistakes with Lainey . . .”

  “Oh, you think so?” Her sarcasm is on point.

  “I should’ve told Lainey the truth about my job from the start. My life is complicated—and that’s not an excuse, but know that I never wanted to lose contact with Lainey. If I’m completely honest, I was gutted when I couldn’t reach her after I left Alaska, and when I found her again and realized what had h
appened, I was devastated all over again. I missed her entire pregnancy—I missed the birth of my son and the first four months of his life. I can’t go back in time and change how things happened, but I’m trying to make up for it. So I’m here, taking care of her the best I know how—which right now is to let her sleep so she can get well.”

  She’s silent for a few long, drawn-out moments. “How’s Kody?”

  “He’s asleep as well, for now. But as soon as Lainey wakes up, I can have her call you.”

  “Yes. Okay. I’d like you to do that. But also, I’d like updates every couple of hours. When Lainey gets the flu, she can sometimes be down for days. She spikes high fevers. We had to take her to the hospital more than once when she was young. And make sure you keep Kody away from her until her fever breaks. She’ll want to feed him, but that’s too much of a risk. And you should make sure you have ginger ale and soda crackers for when she can stomach food again.”

  “I have all those things. And I’ll definitely message with updates every couple of hours.”

  “I just wish she was home so I can take care of her.”

  I decide the best way to win them over is to offer them the opportunity to see her. “Would you like to come for a visit?”

  “It’s a long drive.”

  “I can arrange flights for you.”

  “Oh . . . I don’t fly.” I can almost see her wringing her hands, like Lainey when she’s anxious. I see where it comes from now.

  “You could do it for Lainey, though, couldn’t you? When was the last time you saw Kody?”

  “Not since he was born . . . but the farm . . .”

  “You have lots of help there, don’t you? Lainey would love to see you. And Kody’s sitting up now. You can think about it.”

  “Let me just ask her father, see if he thinks it’s something we can do.” I wait while she has a muffled conversation with Lainey’s dad. “Okay. Yes. Simon thinks a visit is a good idea.”

  “I’ll book your flights and arrange accommodations for you.”

  “You don’t need to do that. Simon can take care of it.”

  “Please, it would mean a lot to me if you’d let me handle it. I’ll just need information for the tickets and an email to forward them to.”

  She hesitates for a minute but finally relents. I take down all the information I need, grab Lainey’s laptop, and bring up flights, finding the first one out tomorrow morning from Washington to Chicago. Once everything is booked, I forward the email.

  I end the call and toss Lainey’s phone on the couch. I’m beat. I don’t know how Lainey has done this on her own all these months. And now I’ve invited her parents out for a visit. Winning over her mom is one thing, but her dad . . . well, let’s just hope I still have my balls by the time they leave.

  CHAPTER 23

  METTLE

  Lainey

  I wake up around one o’clock in the morning, breasts aching, but I don’t feel feverish anymore or like I’m going to throw up, which is a relief. Dry heaves are the worst.

  I roll out of bed. Every muscle in my body hurts, like I tried to run a marathon or lift weights for several hours in a row. My stomach is raw and tender from all the throwing up.

  I take a few tentative sips of water, cringing at how sore even my throat is. And my mouth tastes awful. I use the bathroom and brush my teeth, catching my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a wild mess, random strands having freed themselves from the braid.

  I have dark circles under my eyes, and my skin is the color of paper. I consider going right back to bed, but I need to pump. Or feed Kody. I’m light-headed and weak, but at least the worst of the sickness seems to have passed.

  I peek into Kody’s room and immediately go into panic mode when I don’t find him in his crib. I rush down the hall and come to an abrupt, dizzy stop. RJ’s huge body is sprawled out in the glider, my breastfeeding pillow secured around his waist, head lolled to the side, Kody cradled in his arms, both asleep. An empty bottle sits on the table beside them. They look so sweet together.

  I sneak into the kitchen and try, as quietly as I can, to find my breast pump. It takes me less than fifteen minutes to fill two six-ounce bottles. Once I’m finished, I clean everything in the bathroom sink and also manage my own horrid appearance—although RJ’s seen me barf, twice, so I’m not sure why I feel the need. And unless I dreamed it, he cuddled with me and managed to get hard with me looking like yesterday’s strung-out lady of the night.

  I change my pajamas and wipe myself down with a warm cloth, aware I’ve had the fever sweats for most of the night. The whole process is exhausting, and by the time I’m done I need to lie down again. Which of course means I also need to close my eyes. And fall asleep thinking about how I’m glad I made the choice to give RJ a second chance—and that he’s proving to be worth it.

  I wake up at five thirty to the sound of a hungry baby. I throw off the covers and shrug into my fuzziest robe. If I’m quick enough, I can catch Kody before he’s fully awake, and often it means he’ll fall back asleep for another hour or so once he’s done feeding.

  I’m still a little clammy and warm, and my entire body feels like I’ve been hit by a transport truck, but it’s a significant improvement over yesterday. The fact that my stomach rumbles is also a good sign.

  I find RJ in the kitchen, Kody propped on one hip. His hair is all over the place—both boys—and since RJ slept in his clothes, he’s a wrinkled mess. There’s also a spit-up stain on his shoulder. And yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look as sexy as he does right now, in this moment. “Let’s see if there’s any more mommy milk in here, little man.”

  “Morning.”

  “Oh, hey. Sorry if we woke you up. How ya feeling?” He gives me a once-over. “You look better.”

  “I feel better.” Kody lets out a shriek and lurches toward me. “I can take him.”

  I hold out my arms, but RJ cups the back of his head protectively and turns his body slightly away from me. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Lainey. We don’t want him to catch what you had.”

  I’m both irritated and impressed, considering he looks like he needs six more hours of sleep and a shower yet still manages to be gorgeous and concerned. “I’m sanitized and changed. He can get his milk right from the source, no bottle necessary.”

  “Your mom said it would be better—”

  “My mom? When did you talk to her?”

  “She called last night. She was worried when you didn’t call her back.”

  Kody screams again, louder this time, insistent. I step forward and put a palm on RJ’s chest. Giving him this second chance hasn’t been easy. I haven’t wanted to put my heart on the line, afraid it’ll just end up broken again, but I’m beginning to see just how much RJ wants this. He fielded a call from my mother, and that says a lot, all on its own. “It’s okay. I’m okay, and he needs to be fed—and I need to feed him, because I’m running like a leaky faucet.”

  With a little reluctance and a whole lot of wide eyes, he passes Kody over. As soon as Kody’s in my arms he’s bumping around, pecking at me almost like a bird, mouth open and waiting for food. I’m on autopilot, not really thinking about what I’m doing as I shift my robe aside and undo the snap on my nightshirt, which is designed specifically for middle-of-the-night feedings.

  Kody roots around almost frantically. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here. Breakfast is on its way.” He latches on, and after a few seconds he coughs, so I tuck my pinkie between his mouth and my nipple, forcing him to let go. Even though I pumped, I’m still way overdue for a feed, so I’m like a fire hose, shooting everywhere.

  Unfortunately, RJ seems to be the main target, as I spray him across the shirt. I try to cover up, but all I end up doing is diverting the spray and hitting him in the face. I pull my robe closed, much to Kody’s displeasure. I maneuver around RJ, who’s clearly shocked, and lean over the sink, giving my boob a good squeeze before I attempt feeding Kody again. I wait until he’s latche
d on and there’s no sign of him choking before I turn around.

  “So, that actually happened.” RJ wears an amused grin. “I feel like I can add and cross getting sprayed with breast milk off my bucket list, which is right up there with getting peed on by my son.”

  I laugh—and then groan, because my stomach still hurts from all the hurling I did yesterday. “Sorry about that. I’m a bit of a gusher.”

  His smile quickly becomes a smirk. “I remember.”

  I poke him in the chest. “Our child can hear you.”

  He grabs my finger. “The one we made, together.” Lacing our hands, he presses his lips to my knuckle. “You should sit down—you look better, but you’re still pale. Can I get you something? Water, juice, ginger ale, something with electrolytes?”

  “I don’t think I have ginger ale or anything with electrolytes in the house, so water would be good, thank you.”

  “Kody and I went grocery shopping last night—you have both of those things, so if you want something other than water, let me know.”

  “I’ll take electrolytes, please. What flavor do you have?”

  “Lemon-lime—that was your favorite kind, right?”

  “It still is.”

  He sends me off to the living room while he gets me a sports drink and a plate of saltines slathered in butter. I eat them slowly, dropping crumbs all over poor Kody, but he’s so intent on eating he doesn’t notice or care.

  RJ makes sure I’m okay with the smell of coffee before he makes himself a cup, then sits on the couch across from me, fidgeting, eyes bouncing from Kody to my face and back down. I think it’s sweet that he’s so concerned. “He’s going to be okay. The worst is over, and I’m on the mend.”