One Night with my Best Friend’s Dad (Forbidden Kisses #1)

8. Mac

Chapter 8

Mac

My heart plummets into my stomach as Piper storms out.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter, running my hands through my hair. “This is bad.”

Kelly’s grip on me loosens, and I see the panic in her eyes. She steps back, wrapping her arms around herself. “We knew this could happen, Mac. We can’t hide forever. You said—”

“I wanted to tell her myself.” I pace the room, wondering if I should follow Piper and explain. “Not have her find out like this. It will destroy her.”

“And what about us? What about our baby?” Kelly whimpers.

I stop, my eyes meeting hers. The pain in them is clear. “Kelly, I...”

“Don’t,” she cuts me off. “Don’t you dare say you regret this!”

I shake my head. “I don’t. I swear I don’t.” I reach for her, but she steps back.

“I came to New York for you. I walked away from my parents for you. For us!” she snaps. “She’s an adult, Mac. She’s married now. You’re allowed to have a life too.”

I run my hand over my unshaven jaw. “I know. I know that. But this... it’s complicated. She was out of my life for years. I can’t—”

“So what now? You’re just going to abandon us?” Her hand touches her stomach as she waits with pleading eyes.

My eyes widen. “No! God, no.” I move closer, cupping her face in my hands. “I won’t give you up, Kelly. I promise. But I need to talk to Piper. I need to explain.”

“Sorry.” She sighs. “Of course you do.”

I press a soft kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back soon. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”

“She won’t agree to us being together,” she tells me as I reach the door.

I pause at the door and think about a plan. “I need to get to work, Kelly. I’ll give Piper some time and speak to her afterward. Hopefully she’ll have calmed down by then. I doubt chasing her now will end well.”

The drive to the rink feels like a blur. My mind racing faster than the scenery whizzing by as Piper’s shocked face flashes in my mind, but not as much as the hurt in her eyes. I grip the steering wheel as I think about her, trying to stop them from shaking.

My stomach churns.

I lost her once before, when her mother took her away. Those years without her were hell. I can’t go through that again. But then there’s Kelly. Sweet, beautiful Kelly. And our baby. My chest tightens at the thought of losing them, too.

How did I get myself into this mess?

I pull into the parking lot at the arena, barely remembering the drive. As I walk inside, the familiar smell of ice and sweat hits me. Normally it doesn’t bother me, but today it just makes my nausea worse.

The sound of skates scraping across ice mingles with the rush of blood roaring through my ears. I stand at the side of the ice, watching my team warm up. They’re laughing, joking around. They don’t know their coach’s world is falling apart.

“Hey, Coach!” Nate calls out. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I force a smile. “Just didn’t sleep well. Let’s get to work, boys!”

I blow the whistle, barking out instructions. My mind, however, is a million miles away. All I can think about is Piper’s devastated face, and the pain in Kelly’s eyes.

I push the players harder, forcing them to dig deeper.

The sound of skates cutting through the ice and the thud of sticks against sticks fill the rink, but it does little to drown out the turmoil in my head.

Oliver skates up to me, his brow furrowed, already noticing my inner storm. “Coach, is everything okay? You seem—”

“Everything’s fine,” I snap, cutting him off. “Just keep your focus on the ice, Oliver.”

He nods, hesitating for a moment before rejoining the drill. I know I’m being harder on them than usual, but I can’t help it. I need to channel this energy somewhere, anywhere, but the mess I’ve created at home.

Nate shoves Oscar into the boards, their voices rise in anger.

“Hey, hey! Cut it out, you two!” I bark, striding over to them. “Save it for the game, not practice.”

Nate glares at Oscar, but backs off. I turn to see Reynolds miss a wide-open shot; the puck clanging off the post.

“Reynolds, what the hell was that?” I shout. “You had a clear lane. You gotta bury that!”

Reynolds hangs his head. “Sorry, Coach. I’ll get the next one.”

I nod, my gaze drifts to Connor. He’s focused, as always, going through his pre-shot routine. The kid’s a machine, laser-focused and driven.

A small part of me envies that single-mindedness right now. If only I could shut everything else out and just focus on hockey.

I blow the whistle again, calling the team back to the center of the ice. As they skate over, I can’t help but notice the concerned glances they keep shooting my way.

“Okay, listen up,” I say, my voice gruff. “I know you all can see something’s off with me today. Truth is, I’ve got a lot on my mind. But that doesn’t matter out here. Out here, all that matters is this team, this game. So let’s get our heads back into the game and finish this practice strong. Understood?”

The players nod, murmuring their agreement. I turn to Connor, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re up, son. Show us how it’s done.”

Connor nods, determination etched into every feature. He skates to the top of the circle, the puck on his stick. He takes a deep breath, then fires the puck rocketing past the goalie and into the net.

The team erupts in cheers, slapping Connor on the back. I can’t help but smile, despite the eye of the storm nearing.

“Get on with it and settle down!” I call out. “Let’s run that again. I want to see that kind of focus from everyone.”

As the players fall back into position, I take a moment before glancing out at the empty stands, and wish I hadn’t. My daughter is watching with hurt and betrayal written all over her face as she watches me.

Shaking her head, she rises from her seat, takes her cell and walks out of the arena.

I swallow hard, pushing the image aside. I need to be here, present and focused, coaching my team. I’ll deal with Piper later.

I blow the whistle, the shrill sound echoing through the cold air, stopping the drill. “You can take a breather!” I call out.

The players skate over to the benches, gulping down water and wiping the sweat from their brows.

“Listen up!” I bark, pacing in front of the players. “We’ve got a big game this weekend, and I’m still not seeing the focus I need from this team.”

The guys exchange uneasy glances as tension rises in their shoulders.

“Reynolds, your passing has been sloppy for two weeks. Clean it up.” I turn to Nate. “And you, what the hell was that shove earlier? You’re better than that.”

Nate ducks his head. “Sorry, Coach. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” I glare at the group. “We’re going to run drills until I’m satisfied. No one leaves this ice until I say so. It might be a very long day. Understand?”

A chorus of “Yes, Coach” rings out, and the players scramble into position.

As the practice wears on, the players’ movements become more sluggish, their breathing coming in ragged gasps. But I refuse to let them rest, driving them relentlessly.

Finally, when my own legs feel like jelly and my voice is hoarse from yelling, I blow the whistle one last time.

"That was so much better, now go and hit the showers, but be back here tomorrow, ready to work even harder. We can’t afford to lose this weekend’s game.”

The players trudge off the ice, their shoulders slumped in exhaustion. I lean against the boards, running a hand over my face. I need to talk to Piper, to try to explain about Kelly and the baby. But the thought of facing her again, of seeing that hurt in her eyes, makes my stomach churn.