And right now, with the way King is looking at us, I can relate in a way I never have before to exactly how shitty it must have been for King and Queenie when they’d been trying to toe a line and fight their attraction for each other.

King spoons sugar and adds a dash of cream to the cup on the right that reads #1 Momster, and is clearly meant for Hanna. He fills it with coffee and passes it to her.

“Thank you.” Her smile is strained as she takes the coffee from him and brings it to her lips. She takes a tentative sip and grimaces. “Oh, that’s . . . oh no.” She sets the cup onto the counter and pushes her stool back, rushing to the bathroom off the kitchen. A moment later, a door slams shut.

“Is Hanna okay? What the heck is going on?” King asks.

“She’s not feeling great this morning,” I say.

“Momster?” he calls out. “Are you okay?” His narrowed eyes shift my way.

“I’ll just be a second.” Her voice is muffled. The toilet flushes, and a minute later she comes out of the bathroom, wiping her hands on her thighs. She’s pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail.

“Geez, Han, what’s going on? Do you have food poisoning or something? Do we need to take you to urgent care?” Ryan rushes over and takes her arm, guiding her to the couch.

“I don’t have food poisoning.”

“Are you coming down with something? Is this the flu? You can’t fly like this. We need to reschedule your flight. You can stay here until you’re feeling well enough. And we can call the team doctor, right, Jake?”

“We need to talk to you.” Hanna avoids answering any of the questions and directs a small smile at Queenie. “Both of you.”

Ryan drops onto the couch beside Hanna, which is where I’d like to be. “What’s going on? You’ve been off all weekend. Please tell me it’s something I can fix. Whatever kind of medical attention you need, Han, I’ll take care of it.”

He’s such a good kid. Always putting his family ahead of everyone else, himself included.

I take the chair opposite Hanna, and she gives me a nervous smile before her attention shifts back to King. “I’m not sick, Ry.”

“Then what’s going on?”

The pause before Hanna speaks feels like it lasts an eternity, and the two little words she utters might as well be a sonic boom with the effect they have on King.

“I’m pregnant,” Hanna says softly.

Ryan sits there, like a deer in headlights, blinking, saying nothing at all.

At the same time, Queenie’s mouth drops open and a range of emotions passes across her lovely, expressive face. Her mouth forms an “oh” as she puts things together. Her hands come up as if she’s getting ready to clap, and then she covers her mouth as her gaze shifts from Hanna, to me, and back to Hanna.

“Pregnant?” Ryan finally echoes. It’s almost croak-like. Similar to a parrot.

Hanna nods and licks her lips.

“But how?” Ryan, who is usually composed and eloquent, seems to have been reduced to phrases and questions consisting of one or two words. “Who?”

“I’m the father,” I say, desperate to fill the silence. And then equally desperate to shove those words back from where they came.

Queenie squeals with something like delighted excitement.

Ryan’s lip curls in an angry sneer and he pushes to his feet. I’ve never been intimidated by his size before now, but he’s more than a decade my junior and he’s got a few inches on me, not to mention a good thirty pounds of bulk. He’s an all-star goalie for a reason.

“You got Momster pregnant?”

I might as well be holding a red cape as he charges me.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Not the Reaction I Was Hoping For

Hanna

I DON’T HAVE a chance to react before Ryan rushes Jake.

Queenie hops off the couch and gets between them before Ryan has a chance to throw a punch, thankfully. “King! Settle the F down!”

Ryan’s eyes are wide and wild. He’s livid and practically snarling at Jake.

I rush around to his other side, ready to grab his arm, although I’ve never actually seen Ryan punch anyone or anything.

“What the hell is going on? Are you two a thing?” His gaze turns to me, and under that anger is hurt. “How long have you been hiding this from me?”

“We weren’t trying to hide anything from you,” Jake says quietly. Calmly.

“Bullshit!” Ryan runs his hands through his hair. “That is fucking bull! How could you two do this? And behind our backs?” He spins back to Jake. “I trusted you to have Hanna’s best interests in mind and you get her pregnant! Does this mean you’re together now?”

Queenie’s expression is torn. She glances among the three of us and steps in front of Ryan again, settling her palms on his chest. Her voice is gentle but firm. “My King, I need you to take a breath. I know you’re hurt right now, and blindsided, but if we can’t listen to what they have to say, then we can’t understand. And this reaction isn’t going to help any of us, and all it’s going to do is make you feel bad later. Let’s take a breath and a moment, and listen.”

Ryan drags both of his hands down his face and blinks a bunch of times. He looks restless in his own skin.

He doesn’t take a seat on the couch again. This time he crosses over to the chair and drops down into it, pulling Queenie onto his lap like she’s some kind of human shield or his personal support human. Which I suppose she is.

I’m so glad he has her by his side to navigate life with. He deserves to be loved the way she loves him.

Jake takes a seat beside me. He puts his hand on his knee and glances at mine, which is in my lap.

I move it to the cushion beside me and he covers my hand with his, squeezing. I can hear Ryan’s teeth grinding together from where he’s sitting. I try to put myself in his shoes. He’s spent so much of his life in the dark, and we’ve had to rebuild our relationship since he found out he’s my son and not my brother. I know it’s been hard on him, and this must feel very much like a betrayal.

He’s unfailingly loyal. It’s one of the things I love most about him. It’s also challenging because Ryan often sees things only in black and white. There’s no room for grey when it comes to trust and honesty with him.

“Ryan, I understand that you’re shocked, and to be honest, so are we.”

“How long has this been going on?” His voice is quiet and raw, the hurt clear on his face.

“It was only supposed to be casual.” Jake rushes to my defense, then adds, “We’d been spending a lot of time together, as friends.”

“Planning for our wedding,” Queenie says softly.

“Obviously that changed,” Ryan says with a bite.

“It wasn’t intentional,” I tell them. “We didn’t mean for any of this to happen. We didn’t want to make things . . . complicated.” It’s not untrue. We truly had tried our best to stay on the right side of the friendship line. But staying at his house, spending time with him, late nights talking—eventually a late-night hot tub hang out turned into a late-night romp. And those romps kept happening until the wedding.