Make Your Change (Aston Archers Hockey, #4)

by Cali Melle

“I would like to get a paternity test.” My breath catches in my throat. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for that to be his first sentence. “Okay.”

“You knew where I was, though. You could have come and found me in person.” “What was I supposed to do, Carson? Show up at a hockey game with a hand written sign that says ‘I’m pregnant and the baby is yours’?” I let out a harsh snort, the air rough against the inside of my nostrils. “I didn’t know if you were married or had a girlfriend. I knew nothing about your life.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head as he blows out a breath and looks back at me. “He’s five years old, Andi. Five fucking years old.” His face contorts. “How long were you going to let this go without me knowing?” Shit.

“Please let me be in his life. I don’t care what I have to do to make that happen, but please don’t keep him from me any longer.”

He needs proof that Matteo is his son. And I’ll make sure he gets that proof.

Playoffs start in two days. Two fucking days . . . and I’m practically useless.

I just found out I might have a five year old kid and just dropped off a paternity test with his mom so she can swab his cheek and send it in. I probably could have worded it better, but might as well rip off the bandaid, right? I press send and wait for a response, yet suddenly the group chat goes silent. It’s literally fucking crickets in there. And then my brother decides to chime in. Caleb Well, that’s one way to drop a bomb like that. Rowan I have so many questions. Nash Holy shit, Ford.

To war and back. And this is the exact kind of familial bond I want my son to experience.

I’m a father . . . to a five year old I just met a few days ago.

“Matteo is my son.” Andi is silent for a moment. “I know.” “You did,” I agree, my voice catching in my throat again. My eyebrows pull together as I stare down at a car, hearing it honk at the one in front of it. “Why didn’t you fight me for wanting to get a test done?” “Because I’m a stranger to you and this is life changing information, Carson. You’re a professional athlete and I didn’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage of you.” She lets out a soft breath. “I knew the truth, but I also knew that if there’s concrete evidence, there’s nothing to dispute then.”

“The kid is mine.” Caleb is silent for a moment. “Are we happy about it?” “I think so,” I tell him, swallowing my emotion. “A little shocked and a lot fucking terrified, but I think I’m happy, too.”

“I remember everything you tell me, Trouble.”

“Goodnight, Trouble.” “Goodnight, Carson.”

“I’m glad you know now and that we—I mean, he has you in his life.”

“Me too, Trouble.” Electricity crackles in the air between us. “Me too.”

He calls her trouble 😍😍😍😍

The lingering stare, the way he caresses my hand . . . Maybe he feels it too—or I’m severely delusional.

“It’s okay, Trouble,”

“I thought there would always be another morning. Another Sunday. Hell, another fight, even. But one day it was just gone. No warning, no do-over.” Carson’s face goes still. I swallow roughly, shoving the emotion back into the small box I keep it tucked away in. “You’ve still got time,” I tell him, giving him a nod of assurance. “Don’t waste it being scared.”

Etched right over his heart is another tattoo, except this one is different. This one is written in my handwriting. “With you, I’m home.” “That’s . . .” I choke out, blinking back tears. “That’s from the note I left you.”

“You tattooed my name,” I whisper, reaching one hand to tenderly touch his neck. “And my words.”