I’d been an ass, and I still saw the stricken look on her face. She’d recovered quickly and shot back with her own biting words about what a jerk I was, and she’d be glad to be rid of me.
I’d blown it. I felt a twinge of jealousy that what her husband had should’ve—could’ve—been mine.
“Easton, I need to talk to you. In person.”
“You do?”
“Tell me when, and I’ll come to you.”
She was willing to come to Seattle? I recovered quickly. “All right. I don’t have a game on Sunday. Where would you like to meet?” I controlled my tone, coming off as all businesslike and suppressing the hundred questions scrolling through my head.
“I don’t know Seattle.”
“I’ll text you a location. Does seven p.m. on Sunday work for you?”
“Yeah. Thank you, Easton. I know this must seem weird.”
She was right about that. We said our goodbyes, and I was left with those hundred questions and not one answer.
Chapter 6—The Hardest Thing
~~Caroline~~
Facing him after all these years would be the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I didn’t know what to expect. No doubt my news would come as a shock. Would he be angry, be in denial, or walk away and never look back? All worst-case scenarios. In fact, I’d made a list last night of the best and worst things that could happen when I told him. Then I’d written notes on what I wanted to say and gone over them several times in an attempt to memorize them.
Right now, I couldn’t remember one word of my speech.
I’d considered the cowardly way out by having an attorney contact him, but he deserved more than that. Besides, the money for a retainer wasn’t in my budget.
I was early and took a seat in a semiprivate booth near the back. I ordered a glass of wine to help calm my nerves. Fidgeting with the stem of the wineglass, I turned it in slow circles, mesmerized by the golden liquid sloshing in the glass. The movement was calming.
A hand touched my back, startling me. The wineglass tipped and spilled wine across the table and down the thighs of my skinny jeans. I stared at the growing patch of wetness in horror. When I heard a familiar chuckle, my eyes were drawn to the sparkling brown eyes of the boy—make that man—I’d spent one hot, memorable summer with.
Without a word, Easton hustled to the bar and grabbed a couple towels. He handed one to me and mopped up the wine on the table with the other. The cocktail waitress hurried over and finished the job, bringing me another glass of wine.
“Do you have a sippy cup?” Easton joked to the waitress, ignoring my scathing glare. She stared at him as if she were in a trance, sucked in by the same brilliant smile and dazzling good looks that’d pulled me under their spell years ago.
“I’m sure I can find something,” she gushed.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I shot back primly.
Easton shrugged. “I’ll have an IPA. Whatever you have on tap.”
“Absolutely.” This woman was practically eating him alive with her eyes. A rush of jealousy caught me off guard as I recalled all the girls hanging on him and chasing after him back when we were an item.
I didn’t like it then, and I didn’t like it much now either. I had no claim on this man, and I didn’t want one. My sole purpose was to do the right thing, even if I feared the consequences.
He took the seat across from me just as his beer was delivered. The waitress didn’t leave but lingered, staring longingly at Easton. He nodded at her, and she finally took the hint, slinking away.
“You look good,” he said as his gaze ran over me. Every cell in my body lit up from the inside out. Our eyes met, and all those years melted away. We were two people who enjoyed each other’s company and each other’s bodies.
He was older. His face had none of a boy’s softness but was all angular lines and hard planes. His dark hair was unruly as always, and that same lock fell over his forehead. I resisted the urge to brush it back as I often had. His dark eyes still shone with humor and good nature.
Realizing I was staring, I forced my gaze away from his hypnotic brown eyes. I picked up the wineglass and it started to slip from my moist fingers. Easton grabbed it before I spilled another glass all over the table and him.
His eyes twinkled with mischief as he handed the wine back to me. “About that sippy cup?”
“I don’t need one,” I responded with a ghost of a smile on my lips.
“Coulda fooled me.”
I took a sip and placed the glass on the table. Digging deep for the courage I’d need to bring up this subject, I dived in. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here.”
He nodded.
I started fingering the stem of the wineglass again, ignoring a dramatic gasp from him.
“Easton, there’s no easy way to say this.”
“Then just say it.” Life was simple like that to him. Black and white. No shades of gray. I, on the other hand, worried too much and fretted about upsetting others. There wasn’t any getting around this. He was going to be upset. “Or you could make a list?” he quipped with a teasing grin.
I didn’t smile back. I forced my gaze to meet his and blurted out the words, my carefully written speech all but forgotten. “You’re a father.”
He’d just brought his beer to his lips, and he choked on it. The glass slipped from his grasp, hit the edge of the table, and sprayed all over both of us before crashing to the ground and splintering into a million pieces. The attention of every patron in the place was drawn to our table, followed by gasps as the crowd recognized one of the newest members of their defending Stanley Cup champions.
Easton didn’t notice the mess or the gathering crowd of people. He gaped at me in utter, absolute shock. The staff rushed to clean up the mess, and I slid out of the booth so they could wipe it down. As the crowd converged on us, they blocked my view of Easton.
I took advantage of the chaos and bolted for freedom.
~~Easton~~
In the ensuing melee of fans begging for my autograph and staff scrubbing the booth and floor, I lost sight of Caro. When things finally calmed down, she was nowhere to be found.
She’d hit me with a bombshell and fled like the guilty party that she was. I had a child? I was a father?
I pushed past the remaining fans, tossed a fifty on the counter for my drinks and uneaten dinner, and dashed out the door. No sign of her in the parking lot. She was long gone.
Maybe her disappearance was for the best. I needed alone time to process my change in status from single guy with zero attachment to single father.
What the fuck?
Anger replaced confusion as I drove out of the bar parking lot. She’d dumped this on me and disappeared, offering no details. Did I have a son or a daughter? How old was he or she? How did Caro know I was the father? Why was she telling me this now?
I did the math in my head. My child should be around six years old. It’d been over seven years since that summer we spent together.
Why hadn’t she told me she was pregnant?
My mind raced back in time, running through that last conversation when I’d dumped her. She’d been devastated, and it hadn’t been easy on me either. Had she known then?
What kind of mother waited seven years to tell a father he had a child? I missed all those years. I was angry and hurt, along with confused. I itched to call her back, but I had to calm down first. Think about what she’d said, which was very little. Being a father wasn’t anything I’d considered. I was pretty good with kids, but having one of my own was far different than coaching a group of kids.
Those two children I’d seen outside her house…was one of them mine? I searched my memory for images of them, but I’d been so caught up in seeing her again, I had very little recollection beyond a blonde-haired girl and a dark-haired boy.
I drove home despite not wanting to answer a bunch of questions from a nosy Kaden or endure a penetrating and all-knowing stare from Steele. Regardl
ess, I had to talk to someone, and they were my someones.
I walked into the condo, praying they weren’t partying and were relatively sober. I wasn’t in the mood for drunks. Instead, I heard the crashing of pots and pans in the kitchen and smelled the aroma of baking cookies. Kaden was at it again. The man loved to cook, and he loved to eat. I guess one of his parents was a chef.
I followed my nose into the kitchen, which was a disaster. Kaden had a habit of using every available pan and utensil when he cooked. Steele, our resident neat freak, was trying to clean up, but Kaden was messing shit up as fast as Steele could clean it. If I hadn’t been traumatized by Caro’s revelation, I’d be snorting with laughter at the two of them.
They didn’t need one more ass in the kitchen, so I sat on a barstool at the counter and snagged a warm chocolate chip cookie from the dozen cooling on wax paper. Despite the evening’s earlier news flash, I allowed myself a moment to savor the warm cookie oozing with melted chocolate chips.
“Help yourself,” Kaden said sarcastically.
“Like you were going to eat all these?” I shot back.
“The team captains want them for the road trip tomorrow.” Kaden sighed and spooned piles of dough onto a cookie sheet. The life of a rookie. We were subjected to the whims of veterans and their stomachs. On the last road trip, the captains decided they wanted our seats, and we were stuck with seats up front with the coaches. Now every time we got on the plane, no matter where we sat, they demanded our seats.
I grabbed another cookie, ignoring my bud’s deepening scowl. Steele wiped the soap off his hands and crossed the kitchen to take the stool next to mine. He grabbed a cookie for himself.
“Give up?” I asked Steele.
“No point in cleaning up until he’s finished his destruction.”
“My thought exactly.”
“Where’ve you been?” Kaden asked as he bent over to check the cookies in the oven.
“Meeting a girlfriend from my past.”
Kaden and Steele exchanged glances. Both sets of brows shot upward, but they said nothing.
“The one that got away. The one I can’t seem to forget.” I was stupid to admit such a thing to these clowns. They’d surely use the information against me sometime in the future.
Steele’s brows crept up farther into his hairline. Kaden frowned, not sure what to think of my statement.
“Where’s she living?” Steele said.
“I’m not sure.”
“Does she want to get back together?” Kaden narrowed his eyes.
“I’m not interested in a long-term relationship with her or anyone else, but there are complications I didn’t know about until now.”
“Complications?” they both stated at the same time. Kaden pulled the next sheet of cookies from the oven and grabbed the batch ready to be baked.
“Yeah, a complication. I’m a father.”
Steele spit out his cookie, and Kaden dropped the cookie sheet full of raw cookies on the floor.
“What the fuck?” Kaden blinked several times and stepped over the mess to stand across the counter from me. His mouth moved, but nothing came out, as if he couldn’t quite figure out which question to ask first.
“A father?” Steele shook his head over and over, as if the motion would help him make sense of my words.
“Yeah, a father.” I held up my hand to stop the questions from coming. “I was so shocked, I dropped my beer. It drenched us, and the glass broke on the floor.”
“No wonder you stink like stale beer,” Kaden said.
“And look like you should’ve been wearing a diaper,” Steele added.
“Yeah, thanks. Anyway, in the ensuing chaos, she slipped out.”
“She dropped a bomb like that on you and left? What the fuck?” Steele shook his head and scowled. Steele rarely showed emotion, so this display was epic and somewhat touching. I’d never point that out to him though. He’d be mortified.
“She told you that you’re a father and then vanished?”
“Sure did.” Anger seeped into my tone and vibrated through my body. The anger kept the confusion and guilt at bay. If I stayed pissed at her, I wouldn’t have to accept my responsibility in this situation. After all, there wasn’t any excuse for what she’d done.
“I have zero respect for any woman who keeps a baby secret from the father. We have as much rights as they do when it comes to being parents.” Steele pounded his fist on the table. Kaden and I stared at this stranger. We’d never seen him so adamant about a subject other than hockey. There had to be a story there.
“I agree,” Kaden said. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Call her back and demand an explanation,” I answered.
“Get a DNA test. She might be trying to extort money from you.” Kaden was ever the suspicious one when it came to women. There was a story there, too. I guess we all had our own secrets. Hell, I had a secret I hadn’t even known about.
“I will. Tomorrow.”
“Are you in love with this woman?” By the horrified expression on Kaden’s face, he couldn’t think of anything worse than falling in love.
“I…uh, no, it was a summer fling. A fucking memorable summer fling. I dumped her and walked away. On a whim, I looked her up a few years ago and found out she was married with kids.”
“Why is a married woman looking you up and claiming you’re a father?”
“Lots of questions. No fucking answers.”
“Be careful, E, something seems off,” Kaden warned.
“Get a good attorney,” Steele added.
I nodded. Tomorrow morning, I’d straighten out this mess.
Not that I’d be able to get one minute of sleep.
I was a fucking father. How did a guy handle news like that seven years too late?
Chapter 7—The Truth
~~Easton~~
If I had a child, I had to know. I wasn’t sure what I’d do with that knowledge, but I would do right by the kid. Caro was married, and most likely the child thought Caro’s husband was his or her father. I wondered if this man knew about me. I couldn’t fathom why she was contacting me after keeping the secret for seven years unless it all came back to money. Her timing was suspect. I was an NHL player and making an NHL salary. Caro and her husband might want a piece of that pie to enhance their quality of living.
If the child was mine, I had every intention of owning up to my responsibilities. Beyond that, I hadn’t a clue. I was twenty-three years old and not ready to be a dad. I was still growing up myself.
I admitted with a twinge of guilt that Caro hadn’t been given that choice. If the child was mine, she’d have given birth at eighteen. Then I reminded myself I’d have been involved if I’d known.
I wondered as I had a thousand times since last night if I had a son or daughter. Did the kid look anything like me? Did my child like to skate and have any athletic ability? Caro had been the least-athletic person I’d ever met. She could trip over a leaf and fall flat on her face, but she’d known her hockey. She’d loved hockey. We’d spent hours talking about it, and she’d never once been bored with it.
As mad as I was at Caro, I couldn’t help thinking about how good she’d looked. She might have given birth, but she’d maintained her trim figure. Her honey-blonde hair had still been long and glossy. Her eyes had been as blue as I remembered, so blue I could lose myself for hours in them. I hadn’t seen her smile, but she’d once had a hundred-megawatt smile that lit up any room. She’d stirred something deep inside me, something I’d prefer to keep buried. My body had responded to her presence, her scent, her closeness, even though I didn’t want it to.
Memories of the summer we spent together came rushing back. I’d fallen for her with all the passion and hormones of a teenage boy. Those strong emotions had scared the crap out of me, and I’d mistaken them for love. I’d torn out of there, far and fast, to get away from my own feelings.
And now she’d kept the ultimate secret from me. I di
dn’t know if I’d ever forgive her for such a thing, but I wouldn’t have to. She was married to another man. All we needed to do was straighten out this parenting business and figure out what rights I wanted to enforce and how the kid fit into my life.
Caro had texted me a few times to apologize for her rapid retreat. I recalled what a worrier she was, and my lack of response would’ve given her plenty to worry about.
At six a.m., I picked up my phone, found her last text, and texted her back.
~~Caroline~~
I woke early in the morning in a strange hotel room. I hadn’t fallen asleep until the wee hours, and I’d spent a good part of the evening fretting. Had I misjudged Easton? Was he disinterested in being a father? Did he hate me for running and not explaining the situation?
From his point of view, I didn’t look like a very good person. I’d regretted my rash actions and returned to the bar only to find him gone. I’d texted him several times, the last being at midnight, with no answer. I checked my phone almost every hour to find nothing.
I wished I’d allowed Fran to come to Seattle with me. She’d offered, but deep down, I knew this was something I had to do myself. I’d sure messed that up. Fran would tell me to have patience. I’d dropped a bombshell on Easton, and he needed time to put all of this in perspective.
Knowing it was early, I called Fran. She wouldn’t mind, even if I woke her up, and I needed to speak to someone. Fran was the closest thing I had to a real mother.
“Caro? Is everything okay?” Fran’s voice was a mixture of sleepiness and alarm.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry to wake you up.”
“You don’t have to apologize. We’ve been waiting for your call. When I said I was here for you, I meant it, no matter the time. Tell me what’s going on.”
I quickly ran through the events of last night, and Fran listened without comment until I finished. “And you haven’t heard a word since?”
“It’s still early.” I sighed, feeling both defeated and relieved. If Easton didn’t want any part of his children, I’d go on with my life, raise my kids, and work on a career path.
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