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As I lay on my bed thinking about that one-night stand that led me to have my son. I start to think about the aftermath of that one-night stand when I left him there alone until I found out that he knocked me up a few months down the road. I had to give up my career for a year just to hide my pregnancy. My life was down spiraling from the moment I walk out of his life where my mom would get on me for doing something so stupid in my life. She keeps reminding me how I miss my chance of being an Olympian figure skater winner that year when I found out I was pregnant. 

She makes it sound that I ask to be pregnant when it was literally a one-night stand that went wrong. I didn't ask to get pregnant; it was the spur of the moment where we both felt hot for one another in the club. I haven't had sex in a while since my whole life is skating until I finally went out to have some fun. I know it's my fault for keeping the baby, but I was scared if I gave it up, it would break my heart. Tucker come into my room jumping all excited because he missed when I am on the ice. I would get ice time after he was born because I needed to be on the ice just to skate for fun. My mom was even more excited knowing that I will be getting back on track to become an Olympian winner. 

She would make sure I have my alarm set at 4 in the morning to make sure I am awake to get ready to get some ice time. I would usually change the time to six in the morning to get some more sleep, also 4 in the morning is too early to be waking up Tucker since I take him to rink with me. I don't leave him home with my mom because I don't trust her enough to be with my one-year-old who is about to become 2 in a few months. I got up getting Tucker ready for the winter, also the rink because I don't want him to get sick. My mom saw me getting Tucker ready for the rink where she told me that she doesn't want me to be distracted. 

''I got it, mom.'' I was getting irritated with her because why does she care if I don't skate no more. I know it was my fault to get myself pregnant which cost me to not go to the Olympics last year, but Tucker is not a mistake. I can't deal with my mother and her mouth telling me what to do when she should be worried about herself. Then I overheard my manager walking into my house looking around for me. She found me in my bathroom fixing up Tucker as she tells me that she assigned me a bodyguard knowing that the vultures called of paparazzi will be asking what happened to me last year. 

''What's his name?'' I was so curious because I always knew she was going to get me a bodyguard to protect me and Tucker since he needs it more than me. My mom was not in the mood to hear what my manager had to say to me about this bodyguard who will be coming soon. 

''How soon?'' She sprung up that he will be coming now where he is outside waiting to meet me. I had to rush myself to look decent since this is the first-time meeting with my bodyguard, and I wish my manager gave me a heads-up. She told me she will be waiting for me downstairs, so he was downstairs inspecting everything. I thought I looked decent enough to meet him, so I went downstairs as I watch inspected things around the house. My manager told Tristian to meet his protective detail where he turns around where our eyes met one another. 

''Fuck.'' I muttered knowing this is Tucker's father. I couldn't believe he is standing in my house right in front of me. This was the guy I slept with last year who gave me the opportunity to have Tucker. I never thought I was going to see him ever, but here he is in my house getting ready to begin his job, protecting me. 

''Please excuse me.'' My manager can tell I am startled by something, so she follows me to ask me if there was something wrong. 

''Shut the door.'' I was panicking so hard that I don't know how to face him while my mother was talking to him as she held Tucker in her arms. 

''What a cute baby.'' Tristian smiles. 

''It's my daughter child.'' She was not fond of saying that because she believes Tucker ruin my chance of getting gold last year. 

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