Holding: Playmaker Duet (Prescott Family Book 5)

by Mignon Mykel

“That would require us finding out what they are,” she pointed out.

  I leaned in to press two kisses to her belly, before reluctantly moving to finish getting dressed.

  “I guess.”

  The look on my face had Asher laughing again, but she covered it up by pulling her shirt on. “Just go play hockey and come back whole, and we can talk about it then.”

  No sooner than I pulled into the rink, my phone was pinging with an incoming text.

  I found a parking spot in the garage before opening it up.

  Ace: I’m sorry. But you’ll be thanking me in a few months’ time.

  What the hell?

  Confused, I punched out a reply, asking her what she meant, but an answer didn’t come.

  Putting it in the back of my head, I moved through the garage and the double doors leading to the locker room. This wasn’t my first time back on the ice, but it was the first time I was given the medical okay to go all-out with practice.

  The excitement running through my body rivaled the same excitement I felt during my very first peewee competition, the first Stanley Cup series game, the game winning goal…

  The day I held Asher to my chest as test after test came back showing she was pregnant.

  Even though I’d been a presence in the locker room the last many weeks, today walking into the locker room was completely different.

  “What’s up, my ma-a-a-a-an!” Nico hollered the moment I stepped across the threshold.

  …Right before a jockstrap was thrown in my face.

  “That shit’s nasty,” I chuckled, making a face as I tried to dislodge it from my shoulder without touching it.

  Who knew…fuck that, I knew exactly where that shit had been.

  “Portsy’s back, guys!” Nico yelled, throwing his arm around my shoulder.

  These assholes were being obnoxious but shit, I missed this.

  I was ready to get back what was mine.

  My game.

  My team.

  The other half of my joy.

  “Prescott. Office,” Coach said, after dismissing practice. I was going to be sore later, but everything felt to be in complete working order. The new brace I had for playing was definitely going to give me its money’s worth.

  I’d have to order another one.

  I went into the locker room to change from my practice gear back into street clothes. Some of the guys were still on the ice, some in the showers. I knew Coach didn’t like waiting though, so I didn’t bother with the extras, just changed and grabbed my bag before heading to the office.

  Dropping my bag outside the door, I stepped in. “Yeah, Coach?”

  “Close the door.”

  Well that didn’t sound promising…

  I shut the door and Coach pulled up a video call, and soon, the team’s GM was on the screen.

  Fuck.

  No.

  The manager and Coach wanting to talk to you was never good.

  Shit.

  I had babies on the way. A house. A dog.

  Avery’s mysterious message made sense now.

  Shit!

  “You’re trading me.”

  There was no sense bullshitting and beating around the bush.

  “I’m sorry,” the GM said through the monitor. “The deadline is coming up, and we need to be sure we have another Stanley Cup team. With your injury…there’s not much room for consideration.”

  “I was on the ice today. Tell him, Coach.” I turned to look at him, even though I knew once the trade went through, it went through. Nothing I said would change the inevitable.

  “I just bought a house. My agent was under the impression my contract was being renewed.”

  “It was. It was, Porter, but with your injury…it’s business. I’m sorry.”

  “Asher’s pregnant!” My words were directed to Coach again, and he had the audacity to look down at his desk, not even giving me his attention.

  Depending on where I was traded, I’d have to fly and if she couldn’t have sex, Asher sure as fuck couldn’t fly. And I sure as shit wasn’t having her drive herself.

  “You’re suiting up for the team tonight.”

  Shit. I had to call Asher. I had to talk to her and make plans and…

  “Where?” I asked, even though I had the smallest of inklings that I knew.

  You’ll be thanking me in a few months’ time.

  “San Diego.”

  I woke up to five missed calls, a voicemail, and three text messages, one of which from Avery.

  I opened hers first, knowing I’d be seeing Porter soon. He was probably asking about lunch or something, knowing the man.

  Rolling to my back, I held my phone in the air to open the message. Caine looked up from his own nap, before settling his chin on my belly. He likely wouldn’t stay there long, with the angle it put his neck these days.

  Avery: I’m sorry. I am. Call me.

  Sorry? For what?

  Figuring she mistakenly text me, I pulled open Porter’s texts.

  Porter: Asher, answer the phone.

  Porter: I’m not going to be home. Call me.

  Now I frowned. What did he mean, he wasn’t going to be home?

  I opened my call log and saw that every missed call was from him.

  Worried now, I didn’t bother with his message, and simply called him.

  And it went straight to voicemail.

  I sat up then, with a groan of displeasure from Caine for being displaced, and dialed into my mailbox.

  “Asher, they traded me. To fucking San Diego. I didn’t have time to stop home. Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. What the fuck was my family thinking? This is… Fuck.” I could hear as he hit something; my guess was his steering wheel. “Hopefully I can fly home later tonight. I’ll have answers for you after the game. I love you. I’m so sorry.” There was a pause, and then he said again, “I love you.”

  Immediately, I called Avery.

  One ring was all it took before she answered. “I’m sorry.” She, at least, sounded it.

  “What happened?” At the sound of my voice, Caine pulled his head up, laying in attention.

  “I know Porter’s going to think it was shady, but Charleston was looking for strength on their front line, so to make room, they traded both Porter and Nico.”

  “Nico too?”

  “Yeah. Myke said it was to try and lessen the blow for Porter.”

  “He left a message and didn’t say anything about Nico.”

  “I don’t know. I just know that Porter and Nico were a package deal. Obviously, San Diego knows what Porter is capable of, and while I tried to tell Charleston, they were in panic mode. I honestly think that if either team makes it to the Cup, it’s going to be whatever team Porter’s on. He’s going to be pissed, he’s going to probably play harder—”

  “If he screws up his knee, Avery…”

  “Between Alan at coach, and Caleb wearing the C, I highly doubt—”

  “He’s going to be pissed, and he’s going to have his mouth running. If he ruins his knee—”

  “Asher! Listen to me. He won’t. It’ll be okay.” There was a pause before Avery continued, “Why did Porter leave you a message?”

  “He’s going to San Diego!”

  Caine jumped off the bed at my raised voice, leaving the room.

  “Shit. Nico was supposed to go out today. Fuck, Porter coming wasn’t the deal. I’m so sorry.”

  “Well now I can’t get ahold of him. His phone is off.” I looked around the bedroom, my eyes watering. “What am I going to do?” I said, more to myself than to Avery.

  I’d have to find a way to get the house packed up. The nursery, that I just put the finishing touches on this morning, had to be taken down. I had to arrange a way to get to San Diego. My doctor probably—

  Shit! I’d have to find a new doctor! And finding one that had intimate knowledge of Hyperemesis Gravidarum would be best, because heaven forbid something happened, and—

  “Are you the
re?”

  “Yes,” I managed, keeping the tears at bay.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. I have to figure some things out. I’ll talk to you later, Avery.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, and she did sound it, but there was too much else going on. I hung up with her and swung my legs over the bed, standing with my hands on my belly.

  I pushed my tears back.

  They weren’t going to help matters.

  I had things to do.

  “You weren’t supposed to be the one coming today,” were the first words out of my big fucking brother’s mouth as I neared him, my gear bag and two sticks in hand.

  The only fucking shit I had on me.

  I didn’t know if I should be thankful the team sent Jonny to pick me up, or if I should be more pissed that this was a fucking family reunion.

  “Where’s Myke?” She should have answers. She was the fucking scout for San Diego, while McKenna played around in Beloit.

  “Hiding from you,” Jonny said with a smirk on his face.

  It’s not his fault, I tried reminding myself, instead of giving into the need to punch him.

  “This is so fucking inconvenient,” I mumbled, shouldering past Jonny and toward the parking garage.

  “Trades usually are.” He kept a few feet behind me.

  I stopped and turned. “Asher can’t fly. How the fuck is she getting here?” I didn’t know for sure she couldn’t fly, but I wasn’t putting money on it.

  “Porter. You weren’t supposed to be here for another week. The other trade is. Everything will get figured out, we’ll get you back to your not-quite-wife, and you can come back.”

  “Who else was traded?” Knowing that I would have time helped ease some of the panic, but shit, she was home by herself with the dog and I’m sure she had questions and…Fuck, I needed to get back to her.

  “Your buddy, Nico.”

  I lifted a brow, but had to take a large step to keep up with my still walking brother. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. And he was supposed to be on the bench tonight. Winksi’s got a bug and said he could play, but I think they wanted him to sit out. You know, in case it was the flu.”

  Flu in the locker room was never a good thing.

  I sighed. There wasn’t anything I could do about this shit show now. I was in San Diego. Where I didn’t want to be.

  For so long, I fought to be a Prescott, away from the Prescott name. I was proud of my family, I wasn’t saying I wasn’t, but when an entire fucking family belonged to one organization, it just didn’t look good.

  In my very humble opinion.

  “Look, I know this wasn’t in your plan,” Jonny said as we walked down the row of cars before reaching his truck. “Shit, Porter, everyone knows. But I have it on good authority that Caleb is going to announce his retirement, and it’s likely he’ll end up being offered head coach. If the next few months really are hell, I’m sure Ace can work something out. I don’t imagine the trade was for anything other than the remainder of your contract, which was up when? This year?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, opening the truck door.

  A few months. I could deal with a few months.

  I knew better than to stay up. Porter wouldn’t get out of the arena until at least nine-thirty California time, and even with a last-minute red-eye, he wasn’t going to land until morning.

  He called a little while ago to tell me he’d be home tonight—but I didn’t think he remembered the time difference. I couldn’t even begin thinking about packing though…

  So, I didn’t.

  We could hire that out.

  I searched through the internet for hours, putting in information for quotes, praying that the companies would just email me back instead of calling. I wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone.

  I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep, until Caine nudged my knee with his nose. I was sitting on the couch in a very uncomfortable position and when I stood, the babies kicked their protest.

  I let Caine out and looked at my phone, noticing Porter texted me.

  My plane doesn’t land until seven. My car is probably somewhere in transit to California by now. You think you can pick me up?

  He left the message an hour ago. I sent him a quick reply telling him I would be there, and, after letting Caine back in, headed to bed.

  I didn’t want to think about the things we were going to have to leave behind. The people we were leaving behind.

  There was so much we had to do.

  So much to accomplish.

  I fell asleep with it all weighing on my mind, but I knew that if anyone could get through these inconveniences, it was going to be Porter and me.

  We had this.

  It would be all good…

  “I requested quotes from a few moving companies,” I said, as Porter pushed the seat back in my Kia. “I don’t want to pack.”

  “I’m game with that,” he answered, leaning the seat back. He looked beat.

  “Did you not sleep on the plane?” I eased the car out of the pick-up line and headed toward the house.

  “I think I napped.” He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “What a fucking shit show.”

  “At least you were able to come back.” I tried to find the bright side in all of this. I couldn’t imagine scheduling the packing on my own, and finding a way to San Diego. “I can call my OB and see what she recommends for travel.” I had really connected with my newest doctor and would be sad to leave her.

  “We’ll drive.” His voice was getting that far-off, sleepy tone he had sometimes. “First we’re trading in this fucking clown car.”

  “Let’s go to dinner.”

  “Porter, we don’t have time.” Asher stood in the middle of the nursery, as I stood in the doorway, my hands holding the upper frame.

  “Beautiful, we have nothing but time right now. It’s our last night. Let’s go to dinner.”

  We got a lot accomplished in the last thirty hours. We had a moving company coming tomorrow to pack and move everything to San Diego.

  We traded in Asher’s clown car for a Mercedes-Benz GLS-class SUV with a third row—the entire luxury car thing not exactly Asher’s preference, but fuck if I was letting her drive something that was subpar.

  And Asher spoke with Sydney’s doctor through Skype, and scheduled an appointment for early next week.

  We even lined up three house showings in San Diego over the weekend.

  As for this place, we found an agent and hopefully he could get it sold, sooner rather than later.

  For as shitty as the situation was, it was actually turning out to be not that bad.

  I just had one last piece that needed to be accomplished.

  “Do I have to put on better clothes?” She looked down at her typical attire and while I did love her yoga pants and shirts that showed off her belly, what I had in mind needed something a little nicer.

  “A dress, maybe? I know you have one,” I teased.

  She grumbled but I knew she was going to do it, as she moved toward me and, without looking at me, tried to step past me.

  So not happening.

  I wrapped my arm just under her belly, stopping her, and pulled her to me. I dropped my head to kiss her lightly on her cheek and when she lifted her face, I laid one on her lips.

  “Thank you for being the calm one in all of this,” I told her.

  She lifted her brows. “You’ve been surprisingly calm yourself.”

  “Yeah. You shouldn’t talk to Jonny when we get there.”

  Asher’s grin was wide. “Oh, I’m sure you had an earful for him.”

  I nodded, but didn’t elaborate. “Go get dressed, beautiful.”

  I was so fucking nervous.

  Why, I wasn’t entirely sure.

  Something could go wrong.

  This whole thing, planned as it was, could blow up in my face.

  I could feel myself sweating and my leg wouldn’t st
op bouncing under the table.

  Across from me, Asher dipped her bread in the oil plate, completely oblivious to me.

  I had all these things I wanted to say, and I was pretty confident I was going to forget every single one of them.

  “Dessert?” I asked as she popped the last of her bread in her mouth.

  We were at Maggiano’s, the very one I brought Asher to on our first date. I don’t think she realized it, but we had the same meal; the only difference was, we’d be having dessert tonight, too.

  She sighed happily. “I’m pretty full.”

  I was so fucking glad she had an appetite again but I wasn’t doing ‘full’ tonight. “I already ordered it.”

  “Porter, we can’t close the place again,” she said, her brows up. It did something to me, to know her head was back to that first dinner she and I had together.

  God, it felt like ages ago.

  We were two very different people then.

  I looked past Asher, hoping to see our waiter. It wouldn’t do me any good to have this conversation without dessert coming.

  And there he was.

  “I know we can’t,” I said, reaching across the table for her hand, which she placed in mine. “We’ve been through a lot these last four and half years.”

  She nodded, and I could see the wheels in her head turning.

  “Did I ever tell you how nervous I was the first time I brought you here? Walking you out of the arena, I couldn’t figure out where to put my hands, and all I wanted to do was kiss you. Did you know that?”

  Asher grinned crookedly. “No, I didn’t know that. You were pretty smooth.”

  “I have never been more thankful for meddling family members than I was that weekend.”

  “Even though they continue to meddle?” Asher lifted a brow.

  “I will say that their meddling has mostly been useful, yes,” I admitted, a grin of my own on my face. “For what it’s worth, I would have come after you eventually.”

  “I probably would have thought it was because I was pregnant. You did mail me back my things.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I’d have proved to you that you’re it for me. Because you are. I knew it at nineteen, I knew it at twenty-one, and I know it now. Babies or no babies, you’re my person, Asher.”