Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I turn to walk away not wanting to continue this pointless conversation. The locker room is still radio silent, and then I hear a loud screech. I turn back around to see what the hell that noise is when I’m decked in the head with a hard object. I grab the side of my face as it radiates with pain. “What the fuck!”
I look down, and there’s a water bottle rolling across the ground. “Did you just throw that at me?”
“You’re lucky that’s all I did!” she shrieks again, this time grabbing a Gatorade bottle off the table and chucking it at me. I duck out of the way this time as the bottle hits the wall with a bang.
“Coach, get your crazy fucking daughter away from me.”
“I’m going to kill him,” she says to her dad, and then she’s coming after me. Thankfully, her father pulls her back before she reaches me.
“Olivia, calm down, please.” She relaxes slightly at his words, but then her eyes go wide, and she looks down. There’s liquid dripping down her leg. Is she so upset she peed herself? My conscience gets the best of me, and I almost feel bad. I didn’t want to upset a pregnant woman. She’s clearly distraught over not knowing who the father of her baby is.
“Dad,” she whispers, her voice coming out soft, reminding me of the woman I met at the club and spent the night getting to know in the most intimate way. “It’s too early.” She shakes her head then glances toward me, tears welling up and glossing over her brown eyes.
Her dad looks down at the puddle, and he must know something I don’t, because he says, “Let’s get you to the hospital.” Our argument completely forgotten, she nods in agreement. Holding onto her arm, he walks her through the locker room while pulling out his cell phone and calling someone. “Corrine, can you pull the car around? Olivia is in labor.” Well shit, apparently peeing yourself means you’re about to have a baby.
Killian’s eyes meet mine with shock and worry. “Are you going to go to the hospital?”
“For what?” I step around the mess on the floor as the janitor comes over to mop it up.
“She’s about to have your baby.” He says the words slowly like I’m an idiot.
“She’s about to have a baby.” I shake my head. “Not mine.”
“Nick, is there any chance that kid could be yours?”
I think back to that night. I was tipsy, but I wasn’t drunk. I’m positive we used protection: in the bed, against the dresser, me on top, her on top…Fuck! Did we use one when I woke up in the middle of the night and pulled her on top of me?
“Nick.” Killian pulls me out of my memory. “Are you one hundred percent sure?”
“I-I’m pretty sure.” But as I say the words, I know they might be a lie.
“If there’s any chance you could be the dad, you need to go to that hospital. You don’t want to live with that regret, man.” His words sound ominous, almost like he can empathize with what I’m going through.
* * *
Killian drives me to the hospital in his car, since we drove together this morning. I was hoping to get in the doors without being seen, but it’s just my luck the fucking paparazzi followed us here. It shouldn’t surprise me, though. With Killian driving his fucking Bugatti, we stick out like a damn sore thumb. He drives me around to the side, but there’s no way to get in other than through the main doors or the emergency room entrance.
“Fuck it. I’m just going to have to make a run for it.”
“Good luck, man. I’d wait in the waiting room for you, but I don’t want to draw any more attention to you. Text me once you know anything.” Killian pats me on my back before I jump out of his car.
Photos are taken and questions are slung my way, but I ignore them all. When I get inside, I’m met by none other than my dad and Amber, my publicist. They pull me into a private room where nobody can overhear our conversation.
“Dad? What are you doing here?” My publicist, I understand, as it’s her job to keep my name squeaky clean. Plus, I called her on my way over here. But I’m not sure why my dad would fly all the way from North Carolina when he could just call me or Amber. And how the hell did he get here so fast?
“Your mother and I flew in last night for the game!” he barks. “In case you forgot you’re in the middle of the goddamned playoffs!”
“Yeah, I’m well aware,” I snap.
“So, is it true?” he asks. “Did you knock up this woman?”
“I-I don’t know. She says the baby is mine, and we did spend the night together...” I can’t believe this is happening. The last thing I wanted was to be a dad. I had it in my head being a father wasn’t in the cards for me.