Chapter 21
Lance
Lance quietly left the apartment and stood on the metal balcony. Paige's place didn't have much of a view; only a crowded parking lot full of cars. The sky was dark, but loudly humming street lights cast the parking lot in an eerie amber light.
He let out a deep breath and dialed Kip Sterling's number.
Kip answered right away. “Ah, Lance! I've been trying to reach you. I've got good news!”
“Yeah? So do I, but let's hear yours first.”
“Thanks to that report you filed, the police went to Zickell's and managed to obtain the bar's security camera footage. The footage not only confirmed your account—that you were assaulted first and only acting in self-defense—but also led to the identification and arrest of your assailant.”
“Well hey, that's good. Told you I didn't throw the first punch.”
“We've put a statement out to the press clearing your name. I've already updated Mr. Tremblay about your situation, and I'm happy to report that the team is lifting your indefinite suspension. As soon as you rejoin the team in Boston, you'll be good to play.”
“Great,” Lance said. Maybe this Kip guy had some use after all? “Good to hear.”
“So what's your good news?”
Lance began to pace back and forth on the metal balcony. “You know how you said I didn't have a family-friendly image and all that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Turns out … I've got a daughter!” Lance wasn't sure how he expected Kip Sterling to react, but the silence that greeted him was deafening. “Kip? You there?”
“Sorry, you said what?”
“A daughter. I just found out I've got a daughter, Kip. She's fifteen months old.”
“Oh no,” Kip muttered, his voice sounding muffled and distant.
“No?” Lance repeated, his guts sinking like he were in a free fall.
“Tell me everything you know, Lance.”
Lance started from the beginning: from the night he met Paige two years ago, to always wondering about her, to trying to find her when the team came to Nashville … and finally, last night, finding her again at the same bar. And, as it turned out, they had a daughter together. And that was surely why he'd been thinking about her all this time, right? Because they had a daughter together, and some part of him knew they had unfinished business!
Kip gruffly cut right to the point. “Have you taken a paternity test yet?”
“No, but she said she would if I didn't believe her—”
“So, what, you were just going to take her word for it? How do you know this is your daughter, Lance?”
“She looks just like me, Kip. She looks like a carbon copy of every single baby picture I've ever seen of myself. And if that's not convincing enough? Hell, the second I met her, the kid had a hockey stick in her hands. If you could just see the way she shoots a ball, you'd see it, too. She's only fifteen months old, but she's already got her old man's clapper.”
Kip groaned. “And you believe the mother?”
“Of course I believe Paige.”
“Why?”
“She didn't have sex with anyone else before she got pregnant.”
“And I'm sure that's what she says. But how would you know if she were lying to you?”
“Well—ah—” Lance gulped. “I guess I wouldn't. But she's not lying, Kip.”
Kip didn't hear him or didn't care; the inquisition continued. “Did you wear protection when you slept with her?”
“Yes—but, before you say anything—remember my Instagram about how my ex poked holes in my condom? My ex must've gotten to the condom in my wallet, too. I didn't even think to check it. But the timeline checks out because Paige was the first girl I slept with after her.”
“Convenient. Her story adds up so neatly, doesn't it?”
Lance's nostrils flared and he growled, “I don't like what you're implying, Kip.”
“I don't blame you. But you have to remember, Lance, you've made yourself a target by over-sharing on social media. See, there's a cost to being 'real' with your fans, as you put it. And the unfortunate reality here is that you've given the world an opportunity to exploit you.”
“Bullshit. If that were true,”—Lance cast a paranoid glance back into Paige's apartment and lowered his voice—“if she were lying and just trying to get my money, don't you think she would've already tried to contact me? Instead of waiting for a chance encounter with me?”
“I don't know, Lance, and neither do you. That's the whole point. The kid might turn out to be yours, but what if it's not?”
“Irie's a she, not an it.” Lance had to bite his tongue not to call the PR jerk an asshole.
Kip ignored the correction anyway. “But what kind of message would that send to your fans, or the hockey world at large, if we got this one wrong? We just got you out of the woods of a major PR disaster. Let's not dive head first into another. You want to be a leader of your team, right? You want to be a captain? Then it's time to start acting like one.”
Lance clawed at his throat; it'd grown tacky and was swelling shut. “Shit. So what am I supposed to do?”
“Listen to me very clearly, Lance. I've dealt with high-profile paternity cases like this before. There's two ways we can go about this. First, if you have any doubt that you're the father, we can fight her on this. She can file a case in family court and—”
Lance's blood boiled and he saw red. “Fight her? Family court?! We're talking about the mother of my daughter, Kip!”
“Or so you think. Lance, I need you to calm down and think rationally before you make a very expensive mistake.”
“I'm not going to fight her. Period.”
“Alright,” Kip said, straining. “That brings us to your second option, which I don't recommend. If you believe the child to be yours, your first priority is to take a paternity test along with the mother, child itself, and any other potential fathers. Absolutely no announcements of any kind until that's been done. She shouldn't have any issues with taking a paternity test if her story is true, and she believes that you're truly the father.”
Lance nearly choked on his words. “But … her ex … he can't be reached.”
“Convenient,” Kip chortled. “I'd also caution you not to make any sort of long-term plans with the child's mother, or give her any sort of financial support before paternity can be established.”
“Why the hell not?”
“If a court determines that you've acted as the child's caregiver, you can still end up on the hook for child support—even if the paternity test shows that the child is not likely to be yours.”
“What?! But that's insane!”
“Which is exactly why I'm cautioning you so seriously, Lance. You have a lot to lose, and the captaincy is only the tip of the iceberg. Keep your contact with the mother extremely limited until you have the results of the paternity test in hand.”
“But—!” Lance couldn't bear to tell Kip that Paige had already packed her bags, ready to move to Boston with him. “But she just quit her job because of me, Kip!”
Over the phone, Lance heard the fleshy thwack that had to be Kip smacking his own forehead.
“Oh, that's fantastic. Just do as I've told you, Lance. We'll figure out what comes next once we've got the results of that paternity test in hand. Understand?”
Lance squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah. Sure. Understood.”
He ended the call and stared at his phone. He hated that damned device so much—he cocked his elbow and readied himself to throw it over the parking lot … but before he could, he thought better of it.
With my luck, it'd probably hit some elderly dude in the parking lot and my mug would end up plastered all over the news.
He staggered back into Paige's apartment. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom. In a daze, he threw his body onto the love seat and flipped to the Brawlers game on TV.
What the hell do I do now?