The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(76)

“Get yourself together,” she mocked.

Using monumental fortitude, I picked up the basket and swung my arm around her shoulder. “You’re the best.”

She turned her face into my chest and breathed in deep. “I think Sasha inherited his smarts from you. Good thing you’re both cute.”

Her sass was perfect. And my smile didn’t come off my face the entire way home.





*



Life was near perfect. There had been no more incidents since Charlie had gotten her money back from Yazimoto. The Wolves were doing amazing, and we were leading in our division as we headed towards playoffs. Charlie was Charlie. She was everything I needed in a woman, and I couldn’t believe she was mine.

The sex was off the charts, but the rest of our time together was amazing too. This was better than any relationship I’d ever had. We had fun together. She was playful in and out of bed. It felt like since the moment I had told her I wanted to give this marriage a real shot, she had let down her final wall and relaxed into it. It made her one of the most easygoing, charming women I had ever met. Everything she did, I adored. She felt like a puzzle piece that had been missing for years and now, with her in the picture, everything felt complete. I dared let my guard down and allowed myself to relax into this bliss. This was what my mom was talking about when she’d told me to let go and be happy.

I left for another stretch of away games. Finally, we were on our return flight. I couldn’t wait to get home.

I needed to see Charlie. That is what she had become to me. A need. It scared the shit out of me, but it felt so damn good, I couldn’t even fight it. If I wasn’t already married to her, I would probably be thinking about marrying her. That’s how damn good it was.





*



Usually, Charlie waited up for me when I got home, especially when it was the weekend, but tonight, she was asleep in bed. I sat down on the bed beside her and she opened her eyes to look at me.

She had been crying.

“Hey,” I kneeled down beside the bed so I was eye level with her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied, looking anywhere but at me.

“How come you’re in bed so early? It’s only eight.”

“I was tired.” She struggled to sit up. “I can get up.”

“Don’t.” I gently pushed her back down. “Rest.”

I got no protest from her. She curled up around her pillow. “Okay.”

When I came in to check on her fifteen minutes later, she was fast asleep.





*



Charlie remained emotionally removed from everything for most of the weekend. I caught her in tears twice, and she spent a lot of time sleeping. I did not understand what the fuck was going on, but she wasn’t talking about it. When I asked her, she just shook her head and told me she wasn’t ready to talk about it. I wondered if something had happened at work.

Me: What the fuck is wrong with Charlie?

Krista: I was going to ask you the same thing.

Me: She hasn’t said anything to you?

Krista: She hasn’t been herself. She’s withdrawn completely.

Me: You have no clue what’s up with her?

Krista: Negative





*



I came home Sunday from practice and found her still in bed. She wasn’t asleep, but she just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

I crawled into bed with her and held her. It scared me when she started to cry. She didn’t just cry, she wept. Sobbing her heart out, holding me like the world was ending.

“Sweetheart,” I begged. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t,” she choked out.

“You can. We’re a team. We can handle anything together.”

“Not this.”

“Is it Yazimoto?”

She shook her head, breaking into fresh tears.

I held her face and stared into her eyes. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m pregnant.”

If she had kicked me in the nuts with steel-toed boots, it would have stunned me less. I didn’t know what a panic attack felt like, but I was pretty sure I was having one. I scrambled to the side of the bed while my entire body went hot and then cold. Sweat poured out of me, and I worked to breathe.

“Holy fuck,” I gasped.

She sat up, arms folded around her knees, and she cried even harder.

I stood up and looked at her. “Tell me this isn’t true.”

She lifted her hands and dropped them helplessly.

Fear made speaking impossible. My heart was racing so hard I thought it would explode in my chest. My stomach felt rock hard, and adrenaline spiked through me, making me feel jittery. I tried to catch my breath but I couldn’t.

“This can’t happen,” I wheezed, a hand on my chest.

“Mica.” She rose on her knees. “Talk to me.”

She looked so frightened by my response, but I could do nothing to comfort her. I was too busy trying not to puke.

“I have to get out of here.” I staggered out of the bedroom.

I heard her scramble off the bed and come after me.

“Mica,” she cried. “Please don’t go. Please talk to me.”