Don’t Tempt Me, Captain

ZURI My hands won't stop shaking. I have been unemployed for exactly forty-three minutes, and my older brother has somehow decided that this is the perfect time for me to babysit a grown man. "Zayn, I swear to God, if Hawk refuses to get into the car, I'm leaving him there," I grit out, steeling my unsteady voice. "You won't," my brother replies. "Watch me." "Zu, he's been ignoring his doctor's calls for three days. The last time I checked, he hadn't even collected his new medication. Just make sure he gets to the appointment." "Why can't Blythe take him?" Silence greets me. I frown at the road ahead. "Zayn?" "Just do me this favour, okay? You're already in Vancouver." Something about his tone bothers me, but I have enough problems without adding my brother's strange behaviour to the collection. "Fine," I say, wiping a tear from my face. "Love you." He hangs up before I can ask why his best friend's wife can't take her own husband to the hospital. My phone vibrates almost immediately. For a second, I think it's Wells. Instead, another message appears in the Portland Vipers hockey staff group chat. [Does anyone know if the physiotherapist has actually been arrested? She deserves worse than a termination.] I stare at it. Then I leave the group. Dacre, the team captain, has convinced everyone that I harassed him after I turned down his invitation to spend the night in his hotel room. The deepfake photographs and the fabricated messages did the rest of the damage. The sponsors wanted me gone before the morning skate. It's probably the end of my physiotherapy career. Cheers to retirement at twenty-four. I inhale shakily and call Wells again. Straight to voicemail. "Hi, baby. It's me." I try to sound cheerful, which is difficult considering I feel like throwing myself under a bus. "I know you're busy, but please call me. Something happened at work, and I really need you." I hesitate before adding, "Happy anniversary. I love you." After hanging up, I stare at the screen. We've been together for three years. Engaged for eight months. Lately, Wells has been distant, but tonight is supposed to change that. I'm still thinking about dinner with Wells when I knock on Hawk's door moments later. Hawk opens his front door wearing a white towel tied low around his hips, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Well, almost nothing. His golden hair is wet, the long strands falling over his broad shoulders and sticking to his chest. Dazed, I follow the slide of water droplets down stark lines of muscle that disappear into his towel. Even months after the injury that ended his last hockey season, he looks like a fallen angel. I drag my eyes upward. His green eyes settle on my face, and his mouth curves. "Baby Blue." His deep voice rumbles. My throat goes dry as the old nickname hits me hard. I force a smile. "Hello, Hawk." His brow creases. "Are you alright?" I tighten my grip on my handbag. "Zayn asked me to take you to your appointment." Hawk looks at me for another moment before stepping aside. "Come in." I walk past him, catching the clean scent of his shower gel. The apartment is warm, and I am suddenly very conscious of the fact that the last time I stood this close to him, I made a complete fool of myself. Six years. You would think that would be enough time to develop immunity. Guess not. Especially when the man responsible probably doesn't remember breaking your heart. "I didn't know you were in Vancouver," he says, closing the door. "I work here. Well, worked. Temporarily." I wince. "It's complicated." His gaze returns to my face. "What happened?" "Nothing important. Your appointment is in forty minutes. Are you almost ready?" "I cancelled it." I gape at him. "You did what?" "Cancelled it." "Hawk." He lifts an eyebrow. "You can say my name as many times as you like, sweetheart. Doesn't change anything." I fold my arms, then immediately unfold them when his eyes briefly follow the movement. "Get dressed," I say, my pulse spiking. He studies me for a moment. Then he shifts his weight, and his expression tightens. It's brief, but I notice. My gaze drops to the black brace strapped around his left knee. "How bad is it?" He sighs. "Bad enough that I don't want to talk about it." I move closer, but he straightens before I can examine the brace. "Do I have to drag you to the car myself?" I ask. His eyes settle on mine, his gaze dipping briefly to my lips before darting back to my eyes. Blood instantly rushes to my cheeks, and a nasty smirk curls his lips. Get a f*****g grip, Zuri! His eyes move over my face again. Whatever he sees makes his smile disappear. "Give me five minutes." As he turns, I notice how heavily he favours his right leg. Then my attention catches on the leather folder lying open beside his keys. PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE. My eyes go wide. There's a filing stamp at the bottom from yesterday. Hawk follows my gaze. "You're getting divorced?" I ask. He walks over and closes the folder. "Looks that way." "But Blythe—" "Is aware." His voice is calm, but something about his expression warns me not to ask another question. I swallow. "I'm sorry." He gives me a small smile. "Don't be." Then he disappears into his bedroom, leaving me standing in the middle of his apartment with a thousand questions. .... By the time we reach the hospital, Hawk has complained about my driving, the traffic, and the fact that I won't let him hold the keys. When he tries to climb out, his injured leg buckles. I catch his arm before he can stumble against the car. "Hawk!" "I'm fine." His jaw tightens as he straightens, and I notice sweat gathering along his hairline. "Does it always hurt this much?" "Only when I use it." I wince. I don't know what it is. But he feels painfully different from the menace I knew years ago. He smiles again and adjusts his grip on the cane. "Come on, Baby Blue. Don't look at me like that." With a heavy pang in my chest, I help him inside. He starts arguing when I ask him to sit while I handle registration. Eventually, I leave him complaining and head towards the vending machines positioned towards the women's wing. My phone rings. It's Wells. I answer right away. "Baby!" "Hey, sweet cheeks. Sorry I've been unavailable." Relief rushes through me. "It's okay. I was getting worried." "Work's been crazy. Quick question. Did you book the restaurant for seven or eight?" "Seven-thirty," I reply. "Right. Perfect." I stop walking. "Everything okay?" "Yeah. Just sorting something out." There's a woman's voice in the background. But before I can ask, the call ends. A slight discomfort settles in my stomach. It's probably nothing. We're set for tonight, that's all that matters. I start towards the vending machine again, but a familiar laugh stops me. My heart gives a strange little jump. I know that laugh. I turn toward the adjoining corridor. Wells is standing outside the women's health clinic. For a moment, relief overwhelms everything else. He's here. Perhaps he's been having tests. Perhaps something is wrong, and he didn't want to worry me. I'm just about to call his name when a woman steps out of the consultation area. She's blonde, beautifully dressed, and holding a small photograph. Wells immediately goes to her. His hand settles against her lower back. I stop walking. The woman turns slightly, and my eyes go wide. Blythe Forrest. Hawk's wife. My mind struggles to understand what I'm seeing. Maybe they're friends. Maybe— Blythe holds up the photograph. An... ultrasound? Wells takes it, smiling. My heart starts racing, and I start to feel faint. Just then, Blythe laughs. Wells bends and kisses her stomach. My fingers turn numb around my phone. No. Please, no. He straightens and brushes a loose strand of hair away from her face. She wraps her arms around his neck. And my fiancé cups her face and kisses her slowly, tenderly, like he has all the time in the world. My knees weaken. The hospital corridor seems to tilt. Blythe pulls back, smiling, and Wells presses his forehead against hers. Then he says something that makes my whole body go cold. "I can't wait to meet our baby."