The brisk air nipped at the exposed skin of my face as I stood outside of the community center. I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my jacket, giving myself yet another pep talk. The weight of the positive pregnancy test was like a stone in my stomach, a gruelling mass that I wish I could get rid of. With each step it grew heavier, threatening to debilitate me.
When I had showed up at the Hockey House earlier that morning I had been ready to rip off the Band-Aid. I was determined to come clean to Hendrix about why I'd been avoiding him the past couple of days. But of course, the universe had this funny way of working against me. Maverick had been the one to answer the door, his dark brown eyes pinning me where I stood. The bottoms of my boots froze to the cement porch. Did he know what had happened between his teammate and I?
If he did, he didn't show it.
When I asked if Hendrix was home he gave me a lazy stretch, like he had just woken up from a nap, before telling me he was at work. Disappointment clawed at me. Was this a sign that I shouldn't tell him? I swatted the question away, but it was too late. The seven minute drive it took for me to get to the community center was all the time I needed to lose the conviction I had spent all morning fostering.
I had been rehearsing what I was going to say to him for days. I just needed to grow a pair and tell him. I knew what I was going to do—I had already come to the decision that I couldn't keep this baby. And with that conclusion, I knew my window was shortening with each and every passing day. I couldn't put it off any longer. The more I waited the more difficult this was going to be.
The doors to the community center slid open, welcoming me inside. A warm gust of air washed over me from the heater above the entrance, the scent of chlorine hitting me square in the face. There must have been a pool somewhere in the building as well. Suddenly I wished I was there to have a casual pool day, and not to tell my fake-boyfriend that I was pregnant with his baby.
A mother and her child stood by a vending machine, making their snack selection, as I inched my way down the ramp, towards the lower level. A large green sign urged me on, but the large ice rink behind the glass door at the base of the slope was difficult to miss.
I stood behind the glass for a moment, wrapping my arms around myself. There was a single pad of ice—one rink with a row of stands on the left side. It was small, nothing compared to the arena that the Falcons played out of. Yet, Hendrix still seemed every bit at home.
He stood at the blue line with a whistle nestled between his lips. It was odd seeing him in anything but a Fenton adorned tracksuit. The all black getup was a stark contrast against the ice, the black baseball cap pinning down his golden locks of hair. He was every bit as handsome as the first day I met him. Maybe even more so.
The familiar chill of the rink ran through me as I slipped through the door and into the stands. Hendrix's drawl bellowed off the high ceiling as he encouraged the kids through a drill. Laughter and the whoosh of skates on ice sliced through the air. Even from a distance, I could see Hendrix's ocean blue eyes flicker with pride as he leaned on his stick.
"Nice shot, Maddi!" Hendrix's voice boomed across the rink. "Keep your stick on the ice!"
The little girl flashed him a thumbs up as she made her way back to the line-up. A tiny streak of snow and powdered ice shot up as she came to a stop behind the row of five other kids.
The next kid in line took off, weaving through the line of pylons that dotted the ice. The rest of the class cheered him on, shouting even louder when he scored on the open net. He shimmied a victory dance, gaining a couple of giggles from the parents in the stands.
A wobbly little guy was up next, his equipment seeming too big for his body. A geyser of affection burst through me as Hendrix knelt down, touching one knee to the ice and removing his gloves to tie the kid's skates. Once he had finished, he returned to his full height, ruffling his hand over the boy's helmet with a laugh that echoed in the near-empty arena.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. There was something so pure about the way Hendrix interacted with the children on the ice. He was so invested in them—so attentive. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was going to be like with his own kids.
A pang of something sharp twisted in my chest. Was I ripping this away from him? Hendrix was the kind of guy you only wanted the best for, the type who made you believe that there were still good people out there. And that was exactly why this was going to be so damn hard.
Practice came to an end. The sharp cry of Hendrix's whistle brought all six of the kids towards him in a tight huddle. They all stared up at him, hanging on to his every word as he spoke. All I could make out was the deep murmuring of his voice. At the end of the huddle, he bopped each one of them on the helmet, sending them towards the open rink door just as the Zamboni made its way onto the ice.
My fingers twisted around the fabric of my coat, nails digging into the palm of my hand. This was it—I had to tell him now. But instead of heading towards the pad with the rest of the parents, I found myself frozen to my seat.
"Alright, that's practice! Great job today, everyone!" Hendrix's voice carried across the rink.
I sunk in my chair, weighing my options. Maybe I could try confronting him again in a more private setting? Hendrix beamed at one of the parents who greeted him by the bench as he removed his skates. I couldn't bear being the reason why that smile disappeared.
A shuddering breath passed my lips. I shouldn't have come here.
Realizing I wasn't ready to have this conversation, I rose from my seat, inching my way towards the exit. I was halfway down the steps when I noticed Hendrix at the bottom of the stands. My escape plan was falling apart at the seams.
Hendrix's cheeks were flushed from the cold. His breath formed into clouds as he spoke. "You came all this way and you're not even going to say hi?" His whisky smooth voice melted the frost that had begun to form on my heart.
"Uh, no, I—" I stumbled over my words, a shiver rippling through me. "I didn't want to interrupt."
"Not possible," he said, pushing his hands deeper into the pocket of his sweatpants. "I always have time for you."
I swallowed, my throat so dry it was like sandpaper. "How's your head?"
A slight smile touched Hendrix's lips. "I was cleared yesterday."
"That's great," I whispered, an ounce of pressure eased off my chest. "No more light sensitivity?"
Hendrix shook his head back and forth. I admired how the lip of his baseball cap framed his chiseled face. "Nope. Although, I am going to miss playing board games with you by candlelight."
And there it was. The uncomfortable reality of our situation settled between us again. "Sorry for being so... off lately," I said, my fragile apology hanging in the air.
"Hey, no worries." He shrugged, shoulders at ease. "We all have those days, right?"
"More like weeks," I laughed, but it was hollow even to my ears.
"Want to talk about it?" he offered.
I gnawed on my bottom lip, wrapping my arms around myself again. "Not yet," I breathed. "But I'll take you up on that soon."
Not like I have much of a choice.
"I've just been stressed lately," I continued when he didn't say anything.
It wasn't a lie. I had been stressed. We were smack in the middle of midterms. Add all the bullshit that had been going on with Liam, and Hendrix getting hurt, and I was in way over my head.
"I'm sorry for adding to that."
My eyes snapped to Hendrix's. The kindness in his face had my legs turning into jelly. "Why are you apologizing?"
"I shouldn't have pushed the relationship thing onto you. It wasn't fair for me to expect that," Hendrix dropped his gaze, dragging his sneaker against the rubber floor. "You were very clear with your boundaries in regards to our relationship and I still somehow managed to misread the situation."
"You didn't," I murmured, my heart hammering in my chest.
Did I really want to have this conversation with him now, with this secret looming over our heads? Sorrow ebbed into the corners of my mind. There was no way to know how he would feel about me once I told him the truth. This infatuation—the way he thought he felt about me—would be gone. Love was conditional.
Silence hung between us, seeping into the chilly air.
"I..." I began, words forming a lump in my throat. "You didn't misread anything, Hendrix."
His brow furrowed, but his eyes never left mine. They were as calm as the surface of a still lake, and just as deep, threatening to pull me under.
"Then why did you run?"
I managed to make my way down the last remaining steps without falling. "It's not you. It's everything else."
There was less space between us now. Hendrix's broad frame overwhelmed me, fixing me where I stood. I didn't dare move any closer to him, no matter how much my body begged me to.
He seemed to notice my hesitation. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"
"I will," I promised him, offering him a weak smile that didn't reach my eyes.
He nodded slowly, his gaze soft. "Take all the time you need. I understand that you may not feel the same way about me, but I care a lot about you, Ella. I'll always be here for you if you need me."
My heart ached at his confession. This man was like something right out of a romance novel. Why couldn't I let go and give us a fighting chance? I sucked in a heavy breath, my lips parting to tell him the real reason for me coming to see him at work.
But before I could get the words out, two pint-sized tornadoes clad in oversized jerseys barreled towards us. Even without their helmets, I recognized them from Hendrix's practice. Their likeness was uncanny. Their hair was the same shade of auburn, freckles splattered across their noses and rounded cheeks.
"Coach Hendrix!" The little girl greeted with a pack of chips in her hand. "Do you want one?"
A chuckle rumbled from his chest as he regarded the snack she held up to him. She was high on her tippy-toes, as was if he was so tall that she was afraid he wouldn't see it.
"No thanks, Maddi," Hendrix responded. "I'm still full from breakfast. You enjoy them."
"It's because they're BBQ flavored," her brother said, clutching his own bag of sour cream and onion. "I told you no one likes BBQ."
She twisted her head towards her brother, the braids on either side of her head swinging with the movement. "That's not true."
"Is so!"
Hendrix placed his hand on the little boy's head, flattening the messy spikes. "Mikey, stop teasing your sister. I love BBQ flavored things. Have you forgotten where I'm from?"
Micky pursed his lips as he considered the question. "Texas?"
The answer got him a nod in response. "Every cowboy loves BBQ."
Maddi stuck her tongue out at her brother. "See?"
Hendrix offered me an amused glance. "Maybe Ella would like some of your chips, if you're still offering."
I shook my head, eyes widening when both of their little heads turned to me. "No, it's okay. I'm full too." The lie slid through my teeth with ease. Truth be told, I had been so nervous about throwing up that I didn't even attempt to eat breakfast before I went in search of Hendrix.
"Is she your girlfriend?" Mikey asked, eyes wide as he studied me.
Hendrix didn't miss a beat. "She is."
Something bloomed within my chest. He didn't have to keep our charade up in front of the kids he skated, but for some reason he did. Part of me knew it had to do with the conversation he tried to have with me the other day—before I got cold feet and ran off.
"Hi," Maddi's voice was softer now that she realized there was another adult in earshot. She offered a shy smile, one of her front teeth missing. "You're really pretty."
I blinked, the compliment catching me off guard. "Thank you."
"She is, isn't she?" Hendrix agreed, his gaze meeting mine and setting off fireworks behind my ribcage.
"Are we gonna see you more often?" Mikey piped up. The deep brown of his eyes made his pupils appear larger.
My lips parted before closing again. The chances were slim, but it didn't feel right to tell them that. "Maybe."
Maddi's gaze sparked with more unshed questions. She didn't get the chance to ask them.
"Maddison! Michael! Let's get a move on!" Someone called from the exit of the arena.
"Coming!" They called, rushing out a goodbye to their coach as they ran towards their father. It was a race to the finish, Maddi giving her dad a high five when she reached him first.
"I should get going too," I declared, realizing I wasn't as strong as I thought.
Hendrix brought his attention back to me. "I can walk you out."
The vulnerability in his eyes didn't allow me to decline his offer.
"Sure," I whispered, needing his company for a few more moments before he hated me forever.
_ _ _ _ _
author's note:
While I don't think we'll actually have a problem, I just wanted to preface this by saying that I understand that the topics portrayed in the last couple of chapters of this story are quite politically charged. However, if I see anyone being disrespectful or showing animosity towards anyone (or groups of people), I will delete your comments. You're not going to agree with everyone you come across, but you can choose to respect their differences.
My stories are a safe place where people of all intersectionalities can kick their feet up and take a break from the stressors of their everyday lives. Please remember that before you make a comment that could really hurt someone else.
On a side note: I think I've come to the conclusion that I really have a thing for guys who are good with kids (Lincoln and Hendrix being prime examples). What is something that automatically makes someone a 10 to you?
Happy reading!