Page 251 of Scoring the Pucking Goal
He nods once, happiness glittering in his eyes, and I give him a wave before disappearing inside, feeling lighter than I ever have in my life.
“I can’t believe you fucking proposed,” Linc barks the second I join them. “Fucking beat me to it.”
“Snooze you lose,” I tease as I begin getting undressed.
Nervous and excited banter continues to ripple around the locker room as we all focus on what’s to come.
That is, until the door opens and Killer bellows, “Cover your dicks, woman in da house.”
I look over to find Hailee standing in the doorway, her usual fierce expression on her face.
I assume she wants me so she can put out an engagement announcement. I twist around, ready to head over, but I quickly learn she’s here for someone else.
Her favorite player, in fact.
“Donnelly, I need a word.”
“A bit fucking busy here, actually.”
“Yeah, I get that. But this is important,” she insists.
“More important than winning the Cup?” Rett counters.
When Hailee takes a moment to reply, a seriousness settles over us.
Oh, shit. It is more important than the Cup.
“Go, man,” Fletch encourages. “Sort your shit and then get back here.”
Rett nods once before following Hailee out of the locker room, half-dressed.
I glance at Linc, and he shrugs, as clueless as I am.
Rett
“What the fuck is more important than the Cup?” I bark as I reluctantly follow the biggest pain in my ass along the corridor.
Her shoulders tighten.
I’d like to say I don’t enjoy getting under her skin, but that would be a lie. It’s one of the best forms of entertainment around here—aside from the bunnies, of course.
She spins around and glares up at me.
“Did you really want to do this here? I’d think somewhere a little more private would be a good idea.”
“Just tell me.” I sigh, bored with the dramatics already.
“Fine.” She huffs, her hands landing on her slim waist. “Congratulations, Donnelly. You’re going to be a father.”
Ice runs through my body as the world around me spins.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter, assuming I must have misheard her.
“Congratulations, Donnelly. You’re going to be a father,” she repeats word for word.
But it doesn’t fucking help.
“What the fuck? No, I’m not. I always wrap it and?—”
“Did you want to come and tell that to the woman sitting in my office right now, claiming to be carrying your spawn?”
I blink at her, unable to believe this is really happening.
“No, I really fucking don’t,” I state, rubbing my sweaty palms on my thighs.
“Well, that’s just tough, because you don’t have a choice. Let’s go, Donnelly. Time to sort out another one of your fuck-ups.”
