Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I straighten my shoulders and meet my brother’s gaze. “Yes, I am.”
Oliver blinks once and then again, as if his brain is struggling to catch up.
His narrowed eyes settle on Laiken. “Is it yours?”
“Not biologically. But in all the ways that count?” Laiken steps closer, slipping an arm around me before drawing me against his side. “Yeah, it is. And as far as anyone else is concerned, I’m the father.”
Oliver’s forehead furrows. “Wait… Is that why you left school?”
I glance down at my hands before forcing myself to meet his searching gaze. “Yes.”
He takes a step closer, his tone lowering just enough to reveal the hurt beneath it. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes. “I didn’t know how,” I admit. “And I was scared.”
“Of me?” he asks quietly.
“Of disappointing you,” I whisper. “Of disappointing everyone.”
Rina steps closer before reaching out to squeeze my hand in a silent show of support.
My brother’s gaze drops for a beat before lifting again. I can almost see him putting all the puzzle pieces together. “Collin’s the father, isn’t he?”
It’s not really a question.
It’s the answer that finally makes sense.
“That fucking asshole.” His jaw locks tight, and for a split second, he looks like he might lose it before he wrestles back control. His gaze cuts to Laiken. “Looks like I owe you even more thanks, Lennox.”
Laiken presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You don’t owe me anything. I was taking care of my wife and the family we’re building.”
When my hand lifts to my belly, Oliver’s gaze follows the movement, and his anger gives way to something softer. He steps closer and, without warning, pulls me against his chest. The sound that escapes from me is caught somewhere between a sob and a shaky breath.
“I wish you’d told me sooner,” Oliver murmurs into my hair, his voice rough. “I really do.”
“I should have,” I admit.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands gripping my shoulders. His eyes are glassy and filled with emotion.
“I would’ve helped you navigate this,” he says. “All of it. School. The baby. Collin. Whatever you needed, I would’ve been there.” His jaw tightens. “I never want you to doubt that. We’re Van Dorens. It’s kind of what we do.”
Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips.
Oliver exhales slowly before turning back to Laiken. Without ceremony, he steps forward and pulls him into a hug. It’s quick and solid, man to man. Respect threaded through the brief embrace.
And just like that, something fractured begins to heal.
Oliver releases him. “There’s no one else I’d want my sister with.”
My eyes burn again. I hate how easily my emotions get away from me now.
“Whatever you need,” my brother says, taking a step back, “I’m here for you.” He slips an arm around Rina’s shoulders. “We’re here for you.”
“Thank you,” I manage.
“Does Mom know?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. I’ll fill her in this weekend. Hayes and Theo too.”
“Guess Mom’s about to have two new grandbabies to dote on.” He snorts. “Pretty sure she’s going to lose her fucking mind when you tell her. I almost want to be there when you do it.”
I roll my eyes, laughter slipping free. “Now that’s something to look forward to.”
When Rina chuckles, my brother’s mouth twitches, and the tension eases.
The future no longer feels uncertain. It feels stable. Like something I can finally look forward to, especially with my family beside me—both the one I was born into and the one I’m building for myself.
44
Laiken
I sit on the bench with my elbows braced on my knees, gloves hanging loose from my fingers, and let the noise of the locker room wash over me until it fades into background static. Laughter echoes off the concrete walls as one of the guys snaps off a piece of tape. Music thumps through the speakers, the bass pulsing hard enough to feel it vibrate in the floor beneath my feet.
I’ve spent my entire life playing under pressure. Playoff games. Elimination nights. Sudden-death overtime where one puck slipping past me has the potential to end everything. I’ve stood in front of crowds screaming my name. Sometimes begging me to block the next shot, other times waiting for me to fail so they could tear me apart.
Tonight is different.
The pressure isn’t coming from the ice.
I roll my shoulders, working against the tension coiled there. Even though the headlines have mostly moved on, I know the cameras haven’t. They’re still here, watching and waiting for the smallest crack in my armor. They want proof that the version of me they decided on after one punch caught on video is the real Laiken Lennox.
I glance down at my mask resting beside me.
For a long time, I believed control meant keeping my world small and tightly contained. If I limited who had access to my life, I could better protect Elody. I could keep her safe by not letting anyone else get close enough to matter. That meant no attachments or distractions. Nothing anyone could twist or use against us.