Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
“What baby?” I choke out, my teeth gritted in anger.
“Your kid, you idiot.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You knew. Don’t fucking lie.”
My jersey slides up my back as Duke slams my face into the Plexiglas. I spin around, still struggling to slip from his grasp when Duke hits me with a right hook to the jaw. He follows it up with a few quick jabs that force me to the ice. But he doesn’t loosen his grip, not even for a second.
“Kat is pregnant with your kid. Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Bending over me, Duke lands a few more punches.
The ice is bloody by the time two linesmen grab him by the arms. In shock, I drop to my knees, in pain and numb from the news about Kat. Is she pregnant? With my baby? I don’t know what hurts worse—my jaw or Kat’s betrayal. Now, I understand why she’s been acting so weird. Anymore, it’s like she never has time for me.
The cheers from the crowd grow louder. Duke fights the linesmen off with an elbow. And when I least expect it, he knees me in the face. I fall backward from the blow. Duke throws his hands up in victory. As he turns around, his fist collides with the jaw of the linesman behind him.
The team doctor is at my side. My teammates circle us, some of them attempting to get a clean shot at Duke. His teammates pull him back to their bench. The last player who hit a linesman lost months of pay and earned a hefty suspension.
I hope fucking up my face was worth it, asshole.
As the officials escort Duke off the ice, my teammates help me up. What a low blow for my first year in the league. That fight will be on every highlight-reel for weeks to come.
What concerns me most is what he said about Kat… and our child. How could she hide something this important from me? We share everything. Maybe Duke misunderstood. Either that or he’s delusional… or I’m going to be a father. Kat owes me an explanation for my face, this fight, and our baby.
Chapter Twenty-Three
KAT
As I watched Duke beat the shit out of Dean on television, I wanted to jump through the screen and murder my brother. I only had a few more days to go until Dean’s birthday. So, what choice did I have but to hop on the next flight to Philly?
I knock on Dean’s apartment door, hoping he’s home. He hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts. I hope he’s okay and not in the hospital. The fight looked horrible. I knock a few more times before Dean answers the door with a towel around his waist. It hangs low from his narrow hips, leaving little to the imagination.
“Hey,” I say when our eyes meet.
He shakes his head at me in disbelief. “It’s true, isn’t it?” The words sound as if they burn his tongue. “How could you do this?”
“I didn’t do anything, Dean. We did this together.”
He turns his head to the side, giving me a good view of his bruised cheek and eye, the black and blue already setting in.
“Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”
“I can’t…” He takes a few steps back, staggering backward into his apartment, the door still ajar. “I need time.”
“Please, Dean.” I push my way inside and slam the door behind me. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” His mouth twists in disgust. I’ve never seen him this angry before. “Sending Mike Tyson after me or for hiding our child?”
“I was coming here this weekend to tell you in person. I thought it would be better that way. I never meant for any of this to happen. Duke wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
“Oh, and that makes it all better?” He turns his back to me and walks into the living room. “Get out, Kat. I can’t do this tonight. My face and head are killing me. I can’t sit here and fight with you.”
“But I’m your best friend… and your girlfriend.”
He spins around to face me, his teeth clenched in anger. “Don’t use that line on me. We’re not… we’re nothing. You’re a fucking liar!”
“Dean, c’mon.” I inch toward him, my heart breaking with each step I take. “Don’t act like this. I messed up big time. I know that. But we can fix this. I’m only three months pregnant. We can still do this together.”
He stares at my stomach, which looks mostly the same. “My baby,” he whispers, looking as if he’s in physical pain when he grabs his left shoulder. “How could you, Kitten? Why?” He falls to the floor next to the couch and rests his head against the leather. “Call a doctor,” he says, breathless.
I rush to his side, my fingers wrapping around his bicep. “You’re having a panic attack, Dean. Control your breathing and everything will be okay.”