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“We did,” I said, walking farther away from the hotel room so as not to wake Ciara up. “I just got her to get some sleep. I was worried she was going to drop in the airport. She looked so damned exhausted.”
“Other than that is she okay?”
Ciara had given me a brief explanation of the events preceding the invitational day. The phone call from her biological father’s hospice nurse, learning that Maxim, Alexei, and Aurelia had been lying to her about the monthly pay off, sleeping in her car, and then the guilt that she’d let herself get so distracted by all of it that Artie had gotten hurt.
“No, Alexei, why would she be okay? She’s barely slept in the past three days and she can barely keep anything down. I’m worried.” And I also shouldn’t be telling you any of this, I added silently to myself.
But I had to call and let them know that I wouldn’t be at practice and why. Neither Maxim nor Alexei sounded surprised by the turn of events and I was pretty sure that if they weren’t the coaches they would also be on the next plane out.
I’d only just barely managed to convince them to let Ciara handle this on her own—that she needed to in order to heal.
A heavy sigh filled my ear. “Just take care of her for me. She may be pissed at me, but she’s still my little girl and I hate that she’s doing all of this by herself.”
“She isn’t by herself, she’s got me.” I wasn’t sure how much help I’d be here, but even if I was just someone to hold on to while she dealt with all of this bullshit, then that was what I would be.
“I know, thank you for that.” There was a pause before he finally brought up the subject that I’d been waiting for him to bring up ever since Ciara and I turned our locations off on our phones and I shut down my end of the bond. “They’ve been asking about her. The others in your pack, I mean.”
Even though Enzo was a fucking idiot for letting his fear get the better of him, I wasn’t actually angry with him or any of the others in our pack. It was a shitty situation all around, but Ciara didn’t want to talk to them or even tell them where we were and she was my first priority right now.
“Don’t tell them anything until Ciara is ready,” I said firmly, hoping the man understood how serious I was.
“Enzo told me what he said to her… it was so close to what I’d snapped at her four years ago that I was having déjà vu. Called him a fucking idiot for it, but I don’t think they deserve to be cut off like this.”
“It’s not about what he said or did.” I’d been trying to wrap my own head around it for almost an entire day and the best conclusion I could come up with was that Ciara was filled with a deep sense of guilt that she couldn’t shake off.
Another sigh on the other end of the line. “I guess you’re right. Listen, I’ve got to go, practice is starting in a couple of minutes and I need to explain your untimely absence to the rest of the team. Promise you’ll take good care of our girl for me?”
“I will,” I promised and we hung up the phone.
Heading down to the lobby, I found the night attendant texting on her phone and she only looked up when I gently rang the bell.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asked in a much thicker Irish accent than the soft remnants that Ciara still had when she spoke.
“Do you have any saltines or anything else that’s good for an upset stomach?” I asked, glancing into the glass case that contained all sorts of snacks to be purchased.
“We might have some in the kitchen that go with our room service soups and I’ve got some clear soda as well, is this for your wife?” she asked, putting her phone down.
I nodded, surprised. “How did you know?”
The woman shrugged as she pulled a can of 7UP from the little mini fridge behind the desk. “She looked like she was in bits when you came in earlier. I was the same when I was pregnant, couldn’t keep a thing down and looked like death walking.”
The woman continued to chatter as she ducked into the kitchen and retrieved several packets of saltines. “That’ll be three euros, please.”
I only half-managed to return the rest of her idle chatter, my brain seeming to stutter on her earlier words.
Pregnant. It would make sense with how emotional Ciara had been leading up to the invitational—but she was on birth control. She’d shown it to me and had even packed it yesterday before we left for Ireland.
It couldn’t be true… could it?
Gathering up the crackers and 7UP, I returned to our room where Ciara was still sleeping on the bed.
She was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and my oversized sweatshirt, her normally warm brown skin almost pallid as her brows furrowed in her sleep with whatever she was dreaming about.
Then she rolled, throwing her arm over her head and causing the sweatshirt to ride up, exposing her belly.
Was it rounder than before? It looked flat to me, but I couldn’t be sure it was as flat as it had always been.
If she was pregnant, then that definitely threw a wrench in everything considering that there were four possible fathers. Three of which who weren’t even in the same country as her.
