Shutout | Complete

Chapter 25

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.