Delayed Penalty (Empire State Hockey #5)

Chapter 14 – Avery

Chapter Fourteen

Avery

I ’ve never felt more like an actual grown up than the moment I have to call and schedule an appointment because I’m pregnant, but even at twenty-four, I still have to prepare myself to say the words out loud.

It’s scary because the only people who know I’m pregnant are Kelly and Harris, so telling the ladies at the doctor’s office was pretty weird. It’s like I feel like I have a neon sign over my head that says, I got knocked up from pre-marital sex from a hook up the night I left my fiancé. Little bit of a mouthful but it’s embarrassing none the less.

“Did he say why he wanted to pick you up?” Kelly asks as she cooks the kids macaroni for lunch while we wait for Harris to come get me for our first appointment.

“No, but he was pretty adamant about it. Honestly, it wasn’t worth the fight even though I’m perfectly capable of driving myself.”

Kelly just smirks, and thankfully doesn’t say anything. She’s spent the last couple of weeks trying to gently push me toward talking to Harris more, but I’ve been holding back, and I can’t pinpoint why. Kelly has mentioned that maybe I should give living with him a shot. It would allow us to get to know each other again—I could figure my life out, plus, she could use her space back, it’s been a little hectic.

But I can’t bring myself to say yes. I mean, I’ve checked in with him daily because honestly, the man has been more obsessive over my health than I have and if I didn’t check in I’m positive he’d come find me.

I think it’s partially because he knows how awful I’ve been feeling this entire time. Pregnancy hasn’t been too gentle on me, I’ve thrown up every single day for nearly the last seven weeks and I’ve been more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life. Thank God I have the summer off because I can’t imagine having to go to work every day feeling like this.

Praise the women who do because this shit ain’t for the weak.

“Drop it, Kelly.”

“I’m just saying, you gave Peter fifty-seven million chances and he never put in the effort Harris is putting in for you. And he’s doing this for someone who’s made it clear they’re just friends? Just saying you’re looking a little scared, sis.”

“I’m not afraid, I’m just being smart.”

“Smart by not spending time with him? I think if there’s ever a time to consider giving someone a second chance, it’s probably the time you’re carrying their baby, but that might just be me trying to be logical.”

Thankfully, I’m saved from having to come up with a response to that because my phone rings, letting me know that Harris is here.

“Gotta go find out for sure if I’ve got a tiny little alien growing inside of me before I alert the presses and set fire to my life,” I say, grabbing my purse with a heavy sigh.

“Goodbye, drama queen! Go get pictures of that little bean before I demand to come with you!” she says, pushing me out the door before going back to feed her kids.

When I see Harris, the first thing I notice is how damn excited he looks, his eyes immediately dropping to my belly, and I can see he is genuinely thrilled he’s going to be a dad.

“Hey,” he says with a smile as he opens the car door for me. “How are you doing? Do you need anything before we go?”

“Hey, no, I think I’ll be okay,” I say back as I get into the car, trying to swallow my nerves while he’s practically skipping his way back to the driver’s side. The second he’s back in, he’s taking the seat belt from me and buckling me in like he’s worried I've forgotten how to take care of myself or something.

He’s in such a good mood he’s making such mundane things like driving through the city of New York seem like it’s the best part of his day and goddamnit it’s fucking hard not to smile at this moment, even though I’m still nervous as hell.

I mean, what if I get there and they say I was wrong? What if I’m not pregnant? What if this all ends up being just some sick joke that’s left me stressed out for weeks?

Then, why have you thrown up every day? Why have you peed on eleven pregnancy tests for every single one of them to have two pink lines if you’re not pregnant?

I know realistically I am, but damn, just being here makes me so anxious, it’s like I know my health is no longer just my own and I have to think about everything I’m doing and everything I’m putting in my body.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks as we pull into the parking garage attached to the doctor’s office, sliding into an open spot right by the elevators.

I’ve been staring off into the distance for most of the drive here and since he’s basically driven me all the way back into the city, I don’t blame him for thinking it’s weird. I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling right now and I’m really struggling with that.

“I—I don’t know. What are we even doing? I can’t have a baby! The night we had sex, I was drunk. What if that hurt the baby? Oh, and I read I’m not supposed to have deli meat and every day I went to work I had a ham sandwich, unknowingly possibly harming our baby. I’m obviously not fit to be a mother,” I say, my voice getting higher and higher—more frantic—as I let out some of my anxieties.

He doesn’t seem concerned, though, not even stressed out or fazed by my freak out as he squeezes my hand firmly in his.

“We’ve got this, Ave. There’s not even a reason to stress about this, but I understand why it can seem so overwhelming. As for the food and the drinks? I know my mom didn’t find out she was pregnant with me or my middle sister until she was at least eleven or twelve weeks, and we turned out all right, despite the binge drinking I’m sure she did in college.”

The thing about anxiety is—at least, in my case—it’s often a lot scarier to say the words out loud to someone, than it is to face it with someone.

Which rings true, because in this moment, outside of our appointment, it doesn’t feel as scary.

“Thank you,” I whisper, squeezing his hand in gratitude. “Let’s get in there before I chicken out.”

“Deal.”

I spend the walk making sure I’m as calm as possible, although with how badly I need to pee, it’s a challenge remaining calm, but I’ll be damned if I can’t pee on the stick to confirm. The waiting room inside the doctor’s office is calm, the lighting and the ivory walls working together to make it a comfortable vibe and I’ve never been more thankful of people paying attention to the little details than I am right now in this moment.

“Good morning,” I tell the receptionist as I walk up. “I’m checking in for an eleven o’clock appointment for Walston.”

She looks down at her computer and types away, looking back at me, then back to her computer before looking confused.

“I don’t have anything for a Walston at eleven, could it be under a different name?”

“No, ma’am, I made the appointment myself. My name is Avery Walston, I called last week.”

“I do have an Avery at eleven here, but it’s under the last name Humphreys.”

My blood boils—my pulse racing at that name, Peter’s last name. But that doesn’t belong here at all. His name has no place in this appointment at all.

“Where did you get that name?”

“Mr. Humphreys called and updated it last week.”

“Please, change it back.”

“I’m sorry, I’m unable to do that now that it’s already gone through to the insurance.”

I want to cry, my hands are shaking, and I feel the moment Harris stands up next to me, one hand going to my shoulder as he looks at the lady in front of us. I can’t help it, I turn into him, my face in his chest as I just can’t handle any more of this.

I was just starting to get excited and now this.

“Hello, Ms…” Harris starts.

“It’s Mrs. Fields,” she says, before folding her hands and waiting.

“Hello, Mrs. Fields,” he corrects. “If I’m not mistaken that insurance belongs to Mr. Humphreys and will no longer be used for this appointment, you can remove it from the records.” He says it so calmly, but I’m confused as I look up at him, then back at her as she waits for me to tell her what to do.

“Harris, I can’t afford this appointment without insurance, I…I—” I start, but he just pulls out his wallet and passes her a card.

“Put it all on here, and please, ensure the name is changed. She is not, nor will she ever be, Avery Humphreys,” Harris says, pulling me into his side as the lady looks down at the card and I just shrug and nod.

She passes me the rest of the intake paperwork and asks us to go have a seat where we wait in a thankfully nearly empty waiting room. There’s another couple waiting by the door, who are clearly nearing the end of their pregnancy, a single girl there reading the What To Expect When You’re Expecting book, and a gentleman over by the fish tank looking down at his phone.

Fuck. That gentleman is Peter.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I whisper, pulling Harris’s hand as I turn away from him.

“Who?” Harris asks, his eyes scanning the room until they see him, his jaw tightens as his honey brown eyes darken, until they’re molten chocolate, nearly black and I can tell he’s pissed. “I’ll kill him,” he seethes, already walking in his direction.

But Peter doesn’t notice him right away, he’s too busy smirking down at his phone, probably texting some woman who hasn’t figured out he’s scum yet, all while sitting in the waiting room for my fucking appointment. Slimy piece of shit.

“Harris, stop,” I say, grabbing his hand before he can make it over there, knowing damn well Peter will lose his shit if he sees Harris. “Let me talk to him.”

He turns, but he doesn’t look like he agrees, not that it matters at this point though because Peter is now shooting daggers in our direction.

Just fucking dandy.

No longer wasting any time, I walk over to Peter. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here for our appointment,” he says smugly, standing up and crossing his arms like he belongs here.

I hate this man.

“We don’t have an appointment,” I protest, Harris’s hand tightening on my shoulder and I can tell Peter notices his hand by the way his eyes narrow on us. But at this point… I think I might just be out of fucks to give. “ I have an appointment, Peter. You should leave.”

“I have every right to be here. It’s my insurance that you’re so lucky to be on, it’d be a shame if that were to be canceled. But I mean, by the looks of your company, you might be out of a job and your insurance.”

I freeze, my feet planted in place as fear trickles up my spine.

“Excuse me?” Harris seethes from behind me, his arm firm on my shoulder as he moves me to the side, stepping in front of me to come face to face with Peter. But I just let it happen, still unable to move or speak.

“She heard me,” Peter growls, his jaw clenched as he stands across from me, his fists clenched at his sides like he’s one wrong move away from losing it. “If this is the choice she’s making. If she’s choosing you, she’s finished. I’ll ruin her career. I’ll ruin her life. She won’t have a leg to stand on if—” Peter starts, but his eyes widen as Harris takes two quick steps toward him, backing him up against the wall, his hand wrapping around his throat like he does this all the time.

I look around, but thankfully the other two people have already gone back and the receptionist is watching me with sad, knowing eyes. What she thinks she knows, I have no idea, because the reality is probably way more fucked.

“I’m not even sure why you’re here. None of this involves you, it’s a conversation for my fiancée and me at our baby’s appointment.”

“See, that’s where you have it wrong. None of this involves you. She’s not your fiancée, it’s not your baby, and as for the rest of it? Do your worst. But I promise I’ll make you regret each and every move you make against us.”

“You fucking whore!” Peter screeches as Harris steps closer to him, the reality of the situation must be sinking in because Peter’s eyes widen further, something that seems an awful lot like fear in his eyes.

Out of the corner of my eyes I think I see the nurse pick up the phone, probably calling for security since Peter doesn’t know how to not cause a scene, and I’m immediately embarrassed. I was already nervous about today; I mean, hell, I feel like if we were married it’d be weird as hell to tell someone you’re pregnant. It’s like advertising that you had sex. Which is obvious when people are married, but damn, telling the entire world feels a little invasive.

Can I switch doctors already?

Looking back at Harris, I see he’s gone deadly still, even his breathing has slowed, and I can feel the danger radiating from him. This is a version of Harris I’m not used to. A version I know he’s always saved for his time on the ice, but seeing it in person, it’s more terrifying than I could have imagined.

But in some sick and twisted way, I’ve never felt safer. Unlike Peter, Harris has never made me question if I was safe and protected, he only made me question if I was worthy of his love, which might’ve actually fucked me up worse but who’s keeping score.

“I’d be really fucking careful about what your next words are if I were you,” Harris grits out.

For once in your life, be fucking smart, Peter.

“Or what? You gonna fuck my whore of a fiancée again? Because if the bitch is?—”

“I fuck up guys twice your size on the ice just for breathing too loud, I’d watch how you talk about my girl because I’ll have zero regrets for crushing your fucking windpipe,” Harris says calmly, his grip on Peters throat tightening just enough that I can see his face started to pinken, a flash of worry in his eyes but he’s too stupid to back down yet. “Unfortunately for you, Peter, I do have a baby on the way, with my fiancée, and I’m sure as fuck not about to waste that time behind bars.”

I notice security back behind the receptionist, but they stay out of view as she waves them off. Seems like I’m not the only one intrigued with how this is going to play out, especially with Harris calling me his fiancée?

What the fuck?

Peter looks like he wants to murder me and Harris, but he goes calm.

“Does your coach know you still fight, Danielson?” Peter asks, and I watch the muscles in Harris’s back flex. “I mean, between this and that fight at the bar while you were out with my girl, your coach might not be too happy with you if he were to find out.”

“What is he talking about, Harris?” I ask.

“Oh, she doesn’t know about your fighting?” Peter smirks, and I’m so confused.

“Shut the fuck up, Peter,” Harris spits out, but Peter doesn’t stop.

“You can’t still be on probation from before, right? I mean, that was what? Six years ago? I saw your friend Cade is still playing with you, how’s he doing?”

“Leave him the fuck out of this, Peter. As for Coach? I guess we’ll find out what he thinks soon, you never knew how to fight fair and always take the easy way out.”

“Why fight fair when I just fight to win,” Peter says.

“Just another way to call yourself a pussy and feel good about it.”

“Say that when I take everything from you.”

“You’ve already done that once. The difference is now I’m not going to let you. You fight reckless because you have nothing to lose, I have everything to lose, so bring it on, motherfucker.”

With that, Harris shoves him back and grabs my hand, pulling me toward the door where there’s now a nurse waiting with security. We stop, thinking they’re going to want us, but they wave us back and head toward Peter.

Well, at least they paid attention.

“Are you okay?” Harris asks, his hand on my back as he we follow the nurse back to our room where she passes us both a water and me some crackers.