Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(50)

An hour later, we’re finished, and the final product looks pretty damn cute. I wonder if Ana will want one of these things to have the baby close to her at night.

“Well, that does it. Thanks, man. You want a beer or something?” Owen asks, setting the toolbox aside.

“I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“What about dinner? You want to stay over? I’m sure we’ll just order in, but you’re more than welcome to stay.”

I know what he’s trying to do. Take pity on the old single guy.

I shake my head. “Nah. Not tonight. Thanks, though.”

Owen hesitates as if he has something else he wants to say. “Hey, so I know Ana’s been living with you for a while now, and . . .”

I give him a blank look. “And?”

He swallows. “And I just want to make sure you’re not in over your head with her. That you’re not being taken advantage of.”

I give him a stern look. “I’m not.”

“I hate to say this, but are you really going to keep letting her live there rent-free once she has a kid? What about your own life?”

I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. My teammates have no idea the way I feel about Ana. They have no idea the things that have transpired between us over the past several months.

“I’m only going to say this once, because I trust you. Can you keep this to yourself?”

He nods, looking uncertain. “Of course, dude.”

“Right now, Ana and I are just friends. But earlier on when she moved in . . . some things happened between us. And the baby . . . um, might be mine.”

His eyes widen. “Oh. Damn. Wait… Might?”

I nod somberly. Part of me wishes I knew the truth too, but the other part of me doesn’t care. Ana’s important to me and so is her baby, regardless of whether it shares my DNA.

Owen breathes out. “Shit. I had no idea.”

I nod. “I figured as much.”

“So that’s why she’s still living there?”

I don’t have an easier answer to his question. Swallowing my pride, I say, “She’s welcome to stay as long as she wants, but she’s mentioned getting her own place.”

He nods, seeming to read something in my tone that hints at my unhappiness about the situation. “Anyone else know?”

“Pretty sure Jordie suspects it, but he hasn’t pressed me for details.”

“Well, I’m sorry if I came across as a dick. That wasn’t my intention. I was just trying to look out for you.”

“I know that,” I say with a shrug.

Owen gives me another concerned look. “I know we haven’t always been close, but I’m here, man. If you need anything. If you want to talk.”

I nod. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anytime. And if you need any help or advice on baby stuff, you can ask, but be warned—I have no idea what I’m doing.”

I chuckle, some of the tension of our conversation draining away. I know he really does mean well. “Thanks for that. I’ll keep it in mind. And, hey, before I go, can I, uh, talk to Becca for a second?”

Owen scratches at the stubble on his neck. He’s overdue for a shave. Then again, so are most hockey players. “Of course.” He leads the way into the nursery where Becca is rocking their brand-new son in a gliding chair.

“Angel?” Owen’s voice is softer than I’ve heard it before. It’s a far cry from the Owen I know in the locker room. “Grant’s here.”

Her gaze lifts from her son’s angelic face to mine. “Oh. Hey, Grant.” She smiles weakly. She looks tired.

“He wanted to talk to you,” Owen adds.

“Never mind if this is a bad time. I’ll come back.”

“It’s not,” she says around a yawn. “What’s up?”

Owen gestures me over to the oversized navy ottoman across the room and I take a seat as he leaves us alone. It’s only when I’m eye level with Becca do I notice that she’s not just holding Bishop, she’s nursing him.

My eyes dart away in a big damn hurry. “Jesus. I’m sorry. Seriously, I’ll come back another time.”

This makes her smile widen. “Calm down. It’s a boob. I don’t care if you don’t.”

I can feel my face turning warm, even though I thankfully can’t see said boob. It’s covered by a blanket and her son’s head, but I can hear him suckling noisily on it like it’s his last meal. It’s kinda cute in a weird way.

I get it, buddy. I really do.

Boobs never stop being awesome. Doesn’t matter if you’re two weeks old or thirty-two. I still want them in my mouth too. But not your mom’s. Don’t worry, little man.

When I picture Ana nursing our baby, Ana murmuring soft sounds and cradling a swaddled lump in her arms, I get an achy feeling in the center of my chest.

“Just tell me what’s on your mind,” Becca says warmly.

Scrubbing one hand over the back of my neck, I consider this. “God, where to start.” A dry, humorless chuckle pushes past my lips.

“This isn’t about seeing me and Bishop, is it?” She grins.

“Um . . .” I hesitate, suddenly feeling unsure. Owen and Becca have just had their baby—a tiny, helpless little thing. They’re probably exhausted and overwhelmed. And the visitors who have shown up have probably come bearing gifts and offering well wishes, not selfishly seeking advice like I am.