Chapter 72 Surprise
AVA
The room is quiet except for the steady hum of the hospital machines. The soft beeping of the monitor beside me is oddly comforting, a reminder that I’m still here, that I’m still breathing. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and something sterile and sharp, like the world has been scrubbed down to its bones. The lights are dimmed, casting everything in a pale blue haze that makes time feel suspended.
But the real comfort, the thing that keeps me anchored when my thoughts try to drift somewhere dark and uncertain, is the man sleeping beside me.
Liam.
His tall frame is folded awkwardly into the hospital chair like it was never built to hold someone like him. His shoulders are hunched forward, head resting on the edge of my bed, one large hand curled tightly around mine as if he’s afraid I might disappear if he loosens his grip. Even in sleep, he looks tense. Protective. Like he’s still on guard.
His breathing is deep, steady, the kind of sleep that only comes after complete exhaustion wins the fight.
He must be so damn tired.
There are shadows beneath his eyes, faint bruised crescents that weren’t there a week ago. His jaw is rough with stubble, like shaving hasn’t even crossed his mind. His hair is a mess, dark strands falling over his forehead in a way that would usually make me tease him.
Now it just makes my chest ache.
A lump rises in my throat as I carefully slide my free hand through his tousled hair, pushing the strands back gently. He doesn’t stir. Not even when my fingers trace the curve of his temple.
He’s been running himself ragged because of me.
Missing practice.
Ignoring the press.
Walking out of the biggest game of the season without a second thought.
Going head to head with my father.
Sitting in this chair for hours, maybe longer, refusing to leave my side.
I don’t know how long I was out, but judging by the stiffness in his posture and the way his fingers twitch occasionally even in sleep, I know he hasn’t rested properly in days.
I swallow past the knot forming in my chest, trying not to cry.
I love him.
God, I love him so much it physically hurts.
It’s not soft and simple. It’s overwhelming. Expansive. It feels like it takes up space inside my ribs and presses outward, demanding to be acknowledged.
Flashes of what happened at the rink slam back into me without warning.
The bright lights.
The dizziness.
The way the ice tilted beneath my skates.
The sound of my clipboard hitting first.
The collective gasp from the reporters.
And then Liam.
He didn’t hesitate.
Not even for a second.
He skated to me like everything else had gone silent. Like the cameras didn’t exist. Like the championship didn’t exist. Like nothing in the world mattered except me.
He scooped me up like I weighed nothing.
Like I was something precious instead of a liability.
That’s when it hit me.
This isn’t just intense.
This isn’t just passionate.
This isn’t just young and reckless and dramatic.
It’s the kind of love that makes you want forever.
The kind that makes you imagine gray hair and laugh lines and shared coffee cups in quiet kitchens. The kind that makes you think about building a life instead of just surviving one.
My chest tightens painfully.
Before I can stop it, a tear slips down my cheek and disappears into the pillow.
I wanted forever with this man.
I wanted every day until I’m old and gray with Liam freaking Carter.
The realization feels huge. Beautiful. Terrifying.
My throat burns with it.
The door creaks open before I can spiral any further.
I glance up quickly as the doctor steps inside, clipboard in hand. She offers me a reassuring smile as she checks my chart, her movements efficient but gentle.
“You’re awake,” she says softly. “How are you feeling?”
I wet my lips, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake him.
“Like I got hit by a train,” I admit, the words scraping out hoarse and weak.
She gives a sympathetic nod.
I glance down at Liam again. He hasn’t moved. “Please keep your voice down,” I whisper. “He’s been up for too long. He needs to rest.”
“That’s understandable,” she says quietly, glancing at him. “He hasn’t left that chair since you got here.”
My heart squeezes.
“I know.” I bite my lip, eyes lingering on him. “Plus… he’s like that.”
She smiles faintly, like she understands more than I said.
She sits at the edge of the bed, flipping through her notes. “Your tests came back fine. You’re severely exhausted and dehydrated. You pushed your body too far.”
Relief washes over me so fast it almost makes me dizzy again.
“Then why do I feel so awful?” I ask, half laughing at myself.
She pauses.
Tilts her head.
And then she chuckles softly.
My stomach drops.
“What?” I frown.
“You really don’t know?” she asks, amusement flickering in her eyes.
Cold creeps down my spine.
“Know what?”
She leans in slightly, lowering her voice like she’s about to tell me something delicate. Fragile.
“Ava,” she says gently, smiling in a way that feels almost… knowing. “You’re six weeks pregnant.”
The world tilts.
Not metaphorically.
Actually tilts.
The ceiling feels too far away. The room too small. The air too thin.
My entire body locks up.
No.
No, I—
I must have misheard.
The words echo inside my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull without meaning.
Pregnant.
Six weeks.
That’s not possible.
Except my brain is already doing the math. Counting backward. Replaying nights in flashes of warmth and tangled sheets and whispered promises.
My lips part, but nothing comes out.
The doctor keeps talking gently, explaining hormone levels, fatigue, how the fever likely made everything worse. Her voice sounds like it’s underwater.
Pregnant.
Six weeks.
My gaze drifts slowly to Liam.
Still asleep.
Still peaceful.
Completely unaware.
My chest tightens so hard it feels like it might crack open.
He has no idea.
Liam is on the verge of the biggest season of his career. The media is dissecting his every move. Sponsors are circling. Scouts are watching. The pressure is already enormous.
And now—
Now I’m carrying something that will change everything.
A baby.
Our baby.
My hand trembles as I press it against my stomach.
It feels exactly the same.
Flat.
Normal.
But suddenly it isn’t just mine.
There’s something there.
Someone.
A tiny spark of life that exists because of us.
Because of him.
“Get some rest,” the doctor says softly, squeezing my arm. “We’ll discuss next steps in the morning. Congratulations.”
Congratulations.
The word hangs in the air long after she leaves.
The door clicks shut.
Silence crashes back in.
But this time it isn’t peaceful.
It’s suffocating.
The monitor keeps beeping, steady and oblivious.
My pulse pounds in my ears, too loud, too fast.
I’m pregnant.
I’m pregnant with Liam’s baby.
My thoughts spin wildly, colliding with each other.
He’ll be shocked.
He’ll be overwhelmed.
He’ll feel trapped.
No.
No, he wouldn’t.
But what if—
What if this changes how the world sees him?
What if they say I did this on purpose?
What if they say I couldn’t handle the pressure and needed something to anchor him?
What if they say I’m exactly what everyone warned him about?
A distraction.
The word slams into me.
Sharp.
Cruel.
My father’s voice echoes faintly in memory. The reporters. The commentators who already look for cracks in his focus.
They were all right.
I would distract him after all.
My vision blurs with unshed tears.
This is supposed to be beautiful.
Isn’t it?
Isn’t this what people dream about?
Love so deep it creates something new?
So why does it feel like I’m standing at the edge of something terrifying?
I look at him again.
At the way his fingers are still wrapped around mine even in sleep.
At the way his body leans toward me instinctively.
He chose me over the game.
Without hesitation.
Without regret.
But this?
This is bigger than one game.
This is forever.
A baby doesn’t fit neatly into press conferences and practice schedules.
A baby doesn’t wait until the season ends.
A baby rewrites everything.
My hand presses harder against my stomach.
There’s a life inside me.
Tiny.
Innocent.
Unaware of the chaos already swirling around it.
A sob rises in my chest, but I swallow it down, terrified of waking him.
Because the truth is clawing at me now, ugly and heavy.
If I tell him, I change his world.
If I don’t tell him, I shatter something between us.
And I don’t know which one scares me more.
He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip tightening instinctively around my hand.
Like he senses something.
Like he already knows I’m spiraling.
My heart breaks quietly inside my chest.
I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at him, memorizing the way he looks in this moment. The strength. The softness. The complete trust.
But one thought keeps circling back, relentless and sharp.
They were all right.
I would distract him.
And the worst part?
I don’t know if I’m strong enough to tell him that his entire future just changed while he was sleeping in a hospital chair beside me.