Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Oh.” The furrow in King’s brow deepens, eyes flitting between Hanna and me.
“Come have a seat, I’ll pour you a coffee.” Queenie motions to the stools at the island. “We were going to make bacon and eggs for breakfast.”
Ryan’s suspicion is clear in the way he keeps glancing at us as he sets two mugs onto the counter. It reminds me a lot of the time I found him sneaking out of Queenie’s room when they first started seeing each other. He’d been painfully honest about the allergic reaction he had to a milkshake that my daughter had been drinking. His face was a swollen mess. Or at least I’d thought he’d been honest. I got a lot more information the next day on the ice when I saw exactly where that rash led. That’s filed under things I never wanted to know about my daughter and my goalie.
And right now, with the way King is looking at us, I can relate in a way I never have before to exactly how shitty it must have been for King and Queenie when they’d been trying to toe a line and fight their attraction for each other.
King spoons sugar and adds a dash of cream to the cup on the right that reads #1 Momster, and is clearly meant for Hanna. He fills it with coffee and passes it to her.
“Thank you.” Her smile is strained as she takes the coffee from him and brings it to her lips. She takes a tentative sip and grimaces. “Oh, that’s . . . oh no.” She sets the cup onto the counter and pushes her stool back, rushing to the bathroom off the kitchen. A moment later, a door slams shut.
“Is Hanna okay? What the heck is going on?” King asks.
“She’s not feeling great this morning,” I say.
“Momster?” he calls out. “Are you okay?” His narrowed eyes shift my way.
“I’ll just be a second.” Her voice is muffled. The toilet flushes, and a minute later she comes out of the bathroom, wiping her hands on her thighs. She’s pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail.
“Geez, Han, what’s going on? Do you have food poisoning or something? Do we need to take you to urgent care?” Ryan rushes over and takes her arm, guiding her to the couch.
“I don’t have food poisoning.”
“Are you coming down with something? Is this the flu? You can’t fly like this. We need to reschedule your flight. You can stay here until you’re feeling well enough. And we can call the team doctor, right, Jake?”
“We need to talk to you.” Hanna avoids answering any of the questions and directs a small smile at Queenie. “Both of you.”
Ryan drops onto the couch beside Hanna, which is where I’d like to be. “What’s going on? You’ve been off all weekend. Please tell me it’s something I can fix. Whatever kind of medical attention you need, Han, I’ll take care of it.”
He’s such a good kid. Always putting his family ahead of everyone else, himself included.
I take the chair opposite Hanna, and she gives me a nervous smile before her attention shifts back to King. “I’m not sick, Ry.”
“Then what’s going on?”
The pause before Hanna speaks feels like it lasts an eternity, and the two little words she utters might as well be a sonic boom with the effect they have on King.
“I’m pregnant,” Hanna says softly.
Ryan sits there, like a deer in headlights, blinking, saying nothing at all.
At the same time, Queenie’s mouth drops open and a range of emotions passes across her lovely, expressive face. Her mouth forms an “oh” as she puts things together. Her hands come up as if she’s getting ready to clap, and then she covers her mouth as her gaze shifts from Hanna, to me, and back to Hanna.
“Pregnant?” Ryan finally echoes. It’s almost croak-like. Similar to a parrot.
Hanna nods and licks her lips.
“But how?” Ryan, who is usually composed and eloquent, seems to have been reduced to phrases and questions consisting of one or two words. “Who?”
“I’m the father,” I say, desperate to fill the silence. And then equally desperate to shove those words back from where they came.
Queenie squeals with something like delighted excitement.
Ryan’s lip curls in an angry sneer and he pushes to his feet. I’ve never been intimidated by his size before now, but he’s more than a decade my junior and he’s got a few inches on me, not to mention a good thirty pounds of bulk. He’s an all-star goalie for a reason.
“You got Momster pregnant?”
I might as well be holding a red cape as he charges me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Not the Reaction I Was Hoping For
Hanna
I DON’T HAVE a chance to react before Ryan rushes Jake.
Queenie hops off the couch and gets between them before Ryan has a chance to throw a punch, thankfully. “King! Settle the F down!”