Slamming the lid of my laptop closed, I try to force my jaws apart. All I can do is snarl.
“Victoria?” Concern laces her voice. “What is it?”
“He’s a fucking idiot.”
“Who?”
“The father of my child.”
Her eyes flex wide. “You know who he is?”
Nodding, I open my mouth and everything falls out. When I’m done telling her, she dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “That’s so tragic. You thought he disappeared on you, and he forgot who you were. That’s…brutal.”
She doesn’t need to tell me that. It’s all I’ve thought about since I learned the truth about what happened with Raffi.
Bad luck, that’s all it was. It wasn’t anything sinister or cruel, it was nothing personal. We slept together, he hit his head, and he forgot I ever existed.
What a kick in the crotch.
“Toooorrrrriiiii.” Her voice stretches my name out so it lasts for far longer than a two syllable word should last. “I’ve seen that look on your face before. That’s your ‘someone’s going to die’ look. You can’t murder the father of your child.”
“Why not? Saves him killing himself on the ice.”
She holds up her hand, but all I see is red. “You don’t know what his circumstances are. Playing hockey could be all he’s ever dreamed about doing since he was a little boy.”
“When your dreams come with the risk of death, it’s too high a price to pay.” My body shakes with inexplicable anger. I’m not sure whether I’m actually angry at Raffi, or myself, or the universe for being such a shithead and doing this to me, to him, to all of us. But most of all, to Wyatt.
Other than being a complete dumbass and putting his life on the line every time he plays on the ice, he seems to be everybit the nice guy I thought he was when we first met in fake-prison. But if he’s going to be so careless with his own life, what would that mean for Wyatt? For me?
Should I let Raffi into Wyatt’s life when there’s every goddamn chance his dad will bump his head and forget he ever existed all over again?
That’s something I’m going to have to think about. But right now, I need to release some aggression.
Standing up, I almost knock the chair over.
“Where are you going?” Mom’s concern hasn’t abated. Don’t blame her, I’m spitting fire.
“Lauren, one of the Fit Factory trainers, is taking a pump class at the gym. Maybe I’ll be less homicidal when I’m done lifting weights.”
Wouldn’t bet on it.
CHAPTER 18
Victoria
Imight puke.
Don’t know why I agreed to come here when I inherently disagree with his decision to step out on the ice at all.
I settle into my seat between Eloise and the girl who seems to be here by herself. Same girl we sat beside last time—minus the mansplainer. What was her name again? Something beginning with P…Penny?
Quite the impression to make on someone who looks to be around my age. Definitely a college student. Warm, friendly smile. I’d return it if I didn’t think moving my mouth would enable the blowing of chunks.
Bet the one thing she didn’t bank on by coming to the game tonight was a stranger puking all over her Chucks.
My stomach is tight, threatening to eject the hotdogs and mac and cheese Wyatt convinced me I needed to have before I left.
I had one day with this man. One fucking day. I didn’t know his real name, didn’t know he played hockey, never sawhim again after he knocked me up, and yet I’m twisted up in knots at the fact he might splat all over the fucking plexi.
