Playing For Love (The York Bombers, #6) Read online

  A father.

  How? How was that even possible?

  A hand closed over his arm, jerking it from under his head, forcing him to look up. Ben's face was dangerously close to his own, dark brows pulled low in a frown. Or maybe it was a scowl. Travis didn't know, didn't care. He yanked his arm back, gritted his teeth when Ben refused to let go.

  "What the fuck, Banky? Didn't you use protection?"

  Travis opened his mouth, closed it. Nodded then looked away. Protection. Yes, he'd used a condom. All four times.

  Mostly. There had been that one time, in the shower...but only that once and he hadn't...not when he realized—

  He swallowed back more bile as his gaze darted around the table. He needed another drink. Now. Before he embarrassed himself and lost the meager contents of his stomach right here, in front of everyone.

  Zach launched from his chair, hurrying toward the bar. Maybe he could tell what was coming, maybe he was running to safety. Then he was coming back, a large glass of something in one hand, a wet rag in the other. Travis gasped when the wet rag hit his face. Cold, so cold. It was just what he needed. He grabbed it from Zach's hand and held it in place, closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.

  "Drink this."

  A glass was shoved into his hand. He closed his fingers around it, gripping it like a lifeline before finally moving the rag from his face long enough to take a sip. The ginger ale slid down his throat, hit his stomach and spread. Another sip, then another, until his gut slowly settled. The cold sweat that had gripped him minutes earlier finally dissipated, leaving him drained. Exhausted.

  Confused.

  Travis sucked in a shaky breath then finally looked around the table. His teammates stared back at him, their expressions ranging from disbelief to concern to anger. The disbelief and concern he understood, but not the anger—especially since it came from Ben.

  The other man shook his head, the frown deepening. "Jesus fucking Christ, Banky. Tell me you weren't stupid enough not to use protection."

  "I did. We did."

  "Then what the hell was that look for?"

  "Nothing. It just—I mean...it was only once. Not even that. Then I remembered and I didn't—" He snapped his mouth closed as his stomach rolled again.

  Ben swore then reached behind him, digging his wallet from his back pocket. He opened it and thumbed through it, then tossed whatever he had grabbed on the table. Several foil packets landed in front of Travis. He stared down at them, frowning, then looked up at Ben.

  "Those are condoms. You do know what they are, right?"

  "Yeah, but—"

  "No buts. You use them. Every. Single. Time. No exceptions—not unless you want something like this to happen."

  "I did—"

  "Obviously not. And for fuck's sake, if you slipped and forgot, even for a minute, why the fuck didn't she use the morning-after pill?"

  Travis dropped his gaze and shrugged. He hadn't thought of that. Hadn't even considered it. Had she? Had she even realized? He didn't know. And he couldn't tell Ben that, couldn't tell any of them that. His teammates teased him enough as it was for being young and naive. He wasn't, not really. He had just been raised differently, had been a little more sheltered than the rest of them, despite growing up playing hockey. No, he couldn't even call it being sheltered. He was just quieter than everyone else, not as comfortable with women as they were. That didn't make him naive.

  Except maybe he was, because now he was going to be a father.

  He groaned again and slapped the rag back on his face, only to have it whipped away.

  "You need to get tested, Banky. Make sure she didn't give you anything."

  "She's not—"

  "And if she's going to keep it, you insist on a paternity test."

  "But—"

  "No buts. You don't give that woman a damn thing until you know for sure it's yours. And even then, there are things you can do to make sure she doesn't take you to the cleaners and wipe you out."

  "She said she didn't want anything from me."

  Ben laughed, the sound short and bitter. "And you believe that? Christ, Banky. Don't be so fucking naive. She may have said that now but trust me, that'll change. Hopefully she'll just get rid of the damn thing and you won't have to worry about it."

  Ben's words ripped through Travis, shredding something deep inside him, something he never knew existed. It wasn't just the words—it was his tone of voice. Cold. Unfeeling. Like getting rid of it was no more a hardship than taking out the trash.

  Travis stilled, a seething anger replacing the chill that had been gripping him. But there was more to it than anger—there was fear there as well. Disappointment. And a sadness that nearly overwhelmed him.

  He pushed all of the emotions to the side, all but the anger. Then he leaned forward and pinned Ben with a lethal stare, forcing every last ounce of that anger into his expression. "She's. Not. Like. That."

  "Christ." Ben laughed and rolled his eyes then sat back. "You really believe that? Banky, they're all like that. Stop thinking with your cock and—"

  Travis didn't remember moving. One second he was in chair, his hands propped on the edge of the table. The next, he was on his feet, leaning across the table, one fist curled in Ben's shirt as he hauled him out of the chair. "Shut. Up."

  Hands grabbed him, pulling him away. He brushed them off, turned to stare at Zach and Nathan and Kyle. Everyone was on their feet now, bodies tense, ready to jump in and do whatever needed to be done in case Travis went after Ben again.

  Travis stepped back, ran a hand through his hair, then nodded. Nobody else moved and he wondered, for a brief second, what they were afraid he'd do. Start swinging? Pull Ben from the chair once more and slam him against the wall?

  He sucked in another deep breath when he realized he wanted to do just that. Wanted to grab Ben by the throat and shake him, to scream at him that he was wrong.

  But what if he wasn't? What if Ben was right, and Travis was simply making excuses? Allowing himself to get too involved? Blindly trusting when he shouldn't? What did he really know about her?

  Her name was Cara.

  She was a few months younger than he was.

  She did something, some kind of work, with animals.

  He frowned, trying to remember more.

  Only there was nothing more to remember. He didn't know her last name. Didn't know where she lived. He had her phone number...somewhere. Maybe. He thought he did, was pretty sure he did. He had thought about calling her. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't have her number.

  Ben shifted in the chair, a cold smile curling his lips. He fixed Travis with an expression that was almost pitying. "Fuck me. You're actually buying all her shit, aren't you? What the hell do you think is going to happen, Banky? That you guys will get together and have a family and a white picket fence and live happily ever after?"

  Zach shifted closer to Ben, shot a warning look in his direction. "Ben, don't. You're not helping."

  "Helping?" The word came out as a laugh, one filled with disbelief. "Helping? Look at him! He's already planning the fucking wedding! And you know as well as I do that the chances of it actually being his are slim and none. If she's even pregnant. You know how this shit goes. All of you know it."

  Travis glanced at his teammates, saw nearly identical expressions on their faces. Disbelief. Pity. And he knew, in that instant, that they agreed with Ben. Every single one of them. Maybe they wouldn't have used his exact words, but they were all thinking the same thing.

  That he was gullible. Naive. Falling for a scam.

  No. He didn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it. They hadn't seen the look on her face. The fear and uncertainty. The desolation. The loneliness. They hadn't seen the way she had stood there, so pale and fragile, her voice little more than a squeak as she forced the words from her mouth.

  I...I'm pregnant.

  She was pregnant. With his child. He was going to be a father, whether anyone else believed
her or not. It didn't matter what they believed. He believed it, deep down in his gut.

  But what if she decided not to keep it? What if she got rid of it, just like Ben had said? It was her decision, her choice. Would she want to keep a stranger's baby? Because she didn't know him any more than he knew her. She didn't know that he'd be there to support her and their child. He should have told her that, no matter how many times she said she didn't expect anything from him. He would still be there, for both of them.

  Maybe she thought she was too young to be a mother. Hell, he was probably too young to be a father. What did a twenty-two-year-old know about being a parent? Nothing, that was what. But did anyone really know how to be a parent? His mom used to laugh and tell him and his brother that it was a miracle they were both still alive because neither her nor his dad knew exactly what to do with them when they came home from the hospital.

  Then she'd laugh again and admit that at least Trent was a little easier, since he was two years younger and they had made most of the mistakes with Travis.

  No, he didn't know anything about being a parent. He could only follow the example his own parents had set. That was a start—a good start. He could learn the rest. Couldn't he?

  Yes, he could. They both could.

  Unless Cara decided not to keep it. If that's what she wanted, he didn't think there was anything he could do about it.

  He had no idea how he felt about that. No idea what to do about it.

  And absolutely no idea if there was anything he could do.

  Chapter Three

  Cara Hudgins flipped through a magazine, mindlessly skimming the colorful ads and articles, silently holding her breath while her roommate finished getting ready. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen at the most, and she'd have the apartment to herself. Peace. Quiet. Time to just think and read and study.

  And try not to dwell on this afternoon's fiasco.

  What had she been thinking, stopping by Mystic's to see Travis? Had he recognized her at first? She wanted to think he had but that was probably just wishful thinking on her part. It had been seven weeks since that one night they'd spent together—the only time they had ever seen each other. Why would she think he actually remembered her? He was a hockey player. He probably had women throwing themselves at him on a nightly basis. There was no reason he'd remember her.

  Then to ask him to go outside, to drag him away from his friends. She had seen the looks on their faces, felt their speculation as they studied her. But Travis had simply smiled and followed her outside, his hand placed oh-so-lightly in the middle of her back as they walked.

  Until she turned and gave him the news.

  I'm pregnant.

  How could she have just blurted it out like that? With no warning at all. That hadn't been her plan, not even close. But she had taken one look at him, at his mussed dark blonde hair and those smoky gray eyes and that too-adorable scar in the middle of his chin, and her brain had stopped working. Just like it had the last time she'd seen him.

  I'm pregnant.

  She still couldn't believe she had come right out and dropped the news that way. But she had to give him credit for not turning right around and going back inside. For staying there and actually listening to her.

  Unless he'd been so shocked, he hadn't been able to move. That was a definite possibility. She was still shocked herself.

  And she still wasn't sure why she told him, not when she still didn't know what she was going to do. She had been serious when she said she didn't want anything from him. She didn't.

  So why tell him at all?

  Because he had a right to know, no matter what she decided. Didn't he?

  "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

  She looked up, surprised to see her roommate, Anna Gibson, watching her. She closed the magazine and tossed it to the side. "I'm fine."

  "You don't look fine. And that's not what I asked. I asked if you were going to be okay."

  Cara straightened her back, resisting the temptation to sink deeper into the corner of the sofa. Anna would only roll her eyes then interrogate her some more. Cara was done with the interrogations. Done with the pitying glances. Done with the knowing looks and hidden whispers. She pasted a bright smile on her face and nodded in Anna's direction. "Of course, I'll be okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

  "Um, gee. I don't know. Maybe because you got knocked up after a one-night stand?"

  Cara tried not to wince at the casual words, at the coolness in Anna's voice. Knocked-up. Like someone had simply run into her by accident. Like it was no big deal.

  Like this wasn't a life-altering occasion. Like this was something she could simply shrug off and forget about.

  She placed her palm against the flat of her stomach, almost protectively. Forget? Impossible.

  Anna must have noticed what she'd done because she sighed—the sound just a little impatient—then tossed her coat on the arm of the sofa and sat down near Cara's feet. This couldn't be good, not when Anna was already running late for her second date of the day.

  Cara didn't want to be subjected to any more of her roommate's lectures. Hadn't she heard enough over the past week? Ever since she had made the mistake of leaving the home pregnancy tests in the bathroom. Tests, as in plural. Because she couldn't believe the results of the first one. Or the second.

  Couldn't believe what she was seeing.

  Couldn't believe she was really pregnant.

  She wasn't in the mood for another lecture, no matter how well-intentioned Anna thought she was being. But she was already talking, one hand resting lightly on Cara's foot—like she was afraid Cara would run away if she had the chance.

  "I still don't understand why you went to see him. Why you even told him."

  "Because he had a right to know."

  "Not if you're getting rid of it, he doesn't. It's your body. Not his. He has no say in it."

  Cara inwardly cringed at the cold words. How many times had Anna repeated them? Too many. Cara answered the same way she had the other two dozen times: by remaining silent.

  It didn't work this time. Maybe Anna could see something in her face, or maybe Cara had stiffened just the tiniest bit. Or maybe Anna finally took a few seconds to actually look at her and understand what the silence must mean.

  She sat back, a frown marring her perfect face, her full lips pursed in distaste. "Tell me you really aren't considering keeping it."

  "I—I'm not sure."

  "Cara." Her name came out in a sigh, one filled with frustration and more pity. "You need to get rid of it. Having a baby now will ruin your life."

  "You don't know that."

  "Don't I?" Anna sat back, ran a hand over her long blonde hair, smoothing it back in place. Not that it had been out of place to begin with. There was nothing about Anna that was out of place. She was everything Cara wasn't. Self-assured. Outgoing. Confident. Beautiful. Not that there was anything wrong with Cara—she had her own strengths, she knew that. But when compared to Anna, she definitely came in second. She didn't think that was always a bad thing, not if it meant being free of the cold shell that seemed to surround Anna.

  "Let me make an appointment for you tomorrow. I'll call my doctor, she can probably get you in this week. It won't take long. I'll even go with you. We can go grab lunch afterward, maybe get our nails done."

  Cara stared at her roommate, her eyes widening in disbelief, her mouth slightly ajar in shock. Lunch? A manicure? Like it was nothing more than a day out with the girls. Unimportant. Inconsequential.

  She snapped her mouth closed and shook her head. "I don't think I can."

  "Sure you can. It's not that big of a deal, not anymore."

  "Anna—"

  "We'll talk about it later. Maybe tomorrow. I have to get going, I'm already late." She pushed off the sofa and grabbed her coat, the conversation over as far as she was concerned. Anna had made the decision and that was that. End of discussion.

  But it wasn't. Not really. Not even close.
/>   Cara turned, her gaze following Anna as she moved toward the door. "I—I think I'm keeping it."

  The words felt...right. As soon as they fell from her mouth, she just knew. She couldn't get rid of it. Wouldn't.

  Anna froze for a quick second then turned back, disbelief and a hint of anger flashing in her eyes. She quickly schooled her face, offered Cara a smile that chilled her instead of reassuring her. "You're not thinking clearly, hon."

  "But I am."

  "No. You're not. You can't have this baby, Cara. Think about it. How are you going to support it? Where are you going to live? Because you can't live here. Not with a screaming kid."

  Cara swallowed a gasp, blinked against the sudden tears stinging her eyes. Was she surprised? No, she shouldn't be. Anna didn't have time for anything that didn't center around her. She'd always been that way, ever since Cara had met her in college.

  But it still hurt.

  Regret flashed across Anna's face and she stepped toward Cara. Stopped. Took another step closer and stopped again. "Cara, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

  "Yes, you did. But it's okay."

  "No, it's not. I didn't mean to sound like a bitch. I just—" She took a deep breath and wiped a hand across her face. "I worry about you. And I feel responsible. This is all my fault and—"

  "How is it your fault?"

  "If I hadn't taken you out that night, if I hadn't encouraged you...You went home with him because of me."

  Cara pushed away from the sofa and hurried over to her roommate, consoling her. "You didn't make me leave with him, Anna. And you certainly didn't make me sleep with him. None of this is your fault."

  Relief washed across Anna's face. "Maybe not. But still—"

  "I'll be fine, Anna. I always am."

  "Just promise me that we'll talk more before you make any decisions. A kid...that's a big change, Cara. I don't think you understand that."

  "But I do—"

  "I don't think you do. This isn't going to be like caring for any of those animals you worry so much about. And that degree you want? You might as well forget about that, too. Everything, your whole life, is going to come to a stop."