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Chapter twenty-eight

Hudson

“Time’s up for the quiz,” my business professor says. Everyone puts down their pens as a collective sigh ripples through the room. That wasn’t the worst quiz ever, but it makes me slightly nervous for the final exam.

Walking out of the room, I turn on my phone, and once it comes to life, it doesn’t stop buzzing. Notification after notification vibrates my palm as I grip the phone, trying to read Daphne’s messages, but they’re getting replaced with another before I can.

My stomach churns as I bring up her number, fearing the worst before pressing call. She answers on the third ring. “Daphne? What’s going on? Did something happen with your pitch today? The baby?”

Her breathing is sharp and shallow, like she’s been running or crying or both. “Hudson,” she gasps, her voice trembling. “It’s bad. I—I don’t know what to do.”

I step to the side of the hallway, out of the flow of students pouring out of classrooms. “Okay, calm down. Just tell me what’s happening. Are you safe?”

“Yes, I’m safe,” she says, but her voice cracks. “M-my mom she left me this voicemail, and I don’t even know how to respond.”

“What voicemail?” I ask, pushing past faceless students. “What do you mean?”

“She found a letter at home.” The words tumble out in a rush. “A referral for an OB-GYN and a scan. And she’s asking me why I need it and that I have to call her back immediately. But I can’t, Hudson, I can’t.” She sobs, and my heart cracks a little.

All I can do is grip the phone tighter. The thought that I’m the first person she calls right now isn’t lost on me, but it’s dulled by the fact that this is all about to blow up in our faces, in a really big way.

Daphne lets out a cry again, and it cuts right through me. I want to say something, anything, to make her feel better, but nothing feels like enough. She sounds so scared, and it’s wrecking me.

I haven’t seen her like this, haven’t heard her this raw. She always seems so in control, like she’s got it all figured out. But right now, it’s like the floor’s been ripped out from under her, and she’s free-falling. All I want to do is catch her.

I hear her shaky breathing on the other end of the line, like she’s trying to pull herself together but can’t quite get there.

“Daph,” I say, closing my eyes, wishing I could be right there with her. “Tell me what you need.”

There’s a pause, her breath hitching. “I… I don’t even know,” she whispers.

“Okay,” I say quickly, not wanting her to spiral any further. “Are you in your dorm? Can I come over?”

“I’m in the dorm,” she says, her voice barely audible.

“I’m on my way,” I say, already moving. I don’t care if I’m breaking some kind of unspoken rule by showing up like this. She needs someone, and I’m not letting her face this alone.

Then I hang up and haul ass across campus, a walk that should take me five minutes takes me less than two because I run like my ass is on fire. When I reach her building, I pause, shooting her a text, but someone leaves just as it sends so I sneak inside and race to her door.

It opens just as I lift my hand to knock, and her face almost breaks me in half. Her blue eyes are rimmed with red as well as the very tip of her nose shining like a beacon. As soon as she looks up at me, her bottom lip wobbles, and I don’t even hesitate to move inside, pulling her into a hug that I know she needs. Hell, I need it too.

She buries her face into my chest as I move us backward and kick her door shut.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, my voice steady, trying to be soothing, as I rest my chin lightly on top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

Her sobs are deep and raw, her shoulders shaking against my chest. Each broken cry has me holding her tighter, my arms wrapped around her like a barrier. Her fingers clutch at my shirt like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. I can feel her tears soaking through the fabric, settling against my skin, but I don’t care. The only thing that matters is that she knows I’m here, that she’s not alone.

I rest my cheek on her hair, the faint scent of her shampoo familiar and comforting. Slowly, the tension in her body starts to ease, her shoulders no longer trembling, her breaths no longer catching.

She takes a long, shaky inhale and lets it out slowly, her face still buried against my chest. “I’m sorry, your shirt is ruined,” she murmurs, her voice muffled and hoarse.

“Don’t be. It’s a shirt, princess,” I say. “Are you okay?”

Stepping back slightly, she looks up at me with those impossibly bright eyes tinged with uncertainty. “No,” she says. “I thought we had more time to figure this out. It’s only been a few weeks. I wanted to make more of a plan to get my head around it first. I wanted us to have plans and answers to their inevitable questions.” She sobs again. “It’s my fault. I didn’t even think about the insurance. I had no idea they’d send a letter. Like, who does that anymore? I figured I’d get a call or email, but no, apparently, it’s a letter, and it’s ruined any plans we could make. I’m so sorry.” She buries her face again, beginning to cry.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I say as I hold her close. “We knew we’d have to tell them sooner or later.” I keep my arms around her, anchoring her to me as she cries harder.

She doesn’t respond right away, just clings to me like I’m the only thing keeping her upright. I let her, giving her the space to cry it out because my mom always said a hug will do wonders for anyone who needs it.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but when her sobs finally subside into soft sniffles, I guide her to the bed and sit down, pulling her beside me. She’s still holding on to me, her fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll let go. I don’t.

“Daph,” I say softly, brushing a stray tear off her cheek with my thumb. “Look at me.”

She hesitates, then lifts her head. Her face is blotchy, her nose red, her blue eyes glassy with tears. She looks so vulnerable, and it breaks my already fragile heart seeing her so upset. I cup her cheek, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“What do we do now?” she asks.

I take a deep breath, letting the question settle before I answer. “We tell them,” I say. “I know we didn’t want to be forced into this, I know you wanted to plan it out, and I feel the same, but the letter’s out there now. Your mom knows something’s up. Hiding it won’t help.” Granted, later would’ve been more preferable, but that isn’t what’s happened.

Her fingers fidget with the hem of her hoodie. “I know you’re right,” she says, voice trembling. “But I’m so scared, Hudson. My mom is going to freak out, and my dad…” she trails off, biting her lip.

“Your dad…” My mouth goes dry, and I force myself to swallow, but it feels like sandpaper scraping my throat. “Yeah. That’s going to be…tough.”

“Tough?” Daphne echoes with a weak, teary laugh, wiping at her cheeks. “Hudson, he’s going to kill you. And then he’s going to give me one of his lectures, the kind that lasts so long you question your life choices and wish the ground would swallow you whole.”

I force a smile, but my chest tightens. She’s joking, but we both know there’s some truth to it. I’ve seen Coach tear into guys for slacking off on the field. I’ve been one of those guys on many occasions. He’s the kind of person you don’t disappoint, not if you want to keep your self-respect intact. He’s drilled into me the importance of discipline, accountability, and earning trust. And here I am, about to tell him I got his daughter pregnant.

“He’s not going to kill me.” I try to sound confident, but the words feel hollow, and I know Daphne hears it too.

She gives me a look, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “Hudson, you’re pale.”

“I’m not pale,” I say quickly, but I can definitely feel the blood draining from my body, probably in preparation for her dad to kill me anyway. Damn it.

I let out a slow, shaky breath and rub the back of my neck. “Okay, I’m scared, Daph. Your dad…he’s someone I look up to, someone I’ve always wanted to impress. And now…” The weight of it presses down on my chest. “Now I have to face him and tell him that I messed up.”

“You didn’t mess up alone. This is our responsibility, Hudson. Not just yours.”

“I know,” I say. “It still doesn’t change the fact that, even though I’m scared, I’m not hiding. I can’t. I want to be here with you.”

Her lip wobbles, but she doesn’t cry this time. “You don’t hate me?” she whispers.

“God, Daph. I could never hate you. This wasn’t in the plan, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I hate you. It doesn’t even mean I regret it.” I take her hand in mine, squeezing it. “It’s scary as hell, but we’ll figure it out. Together. Always.”

Without saying a word, she shifts closer, one hand slipping behind my neck, fingers threading into my hair. For a second, I think she’s going to kiss me, but when her eyes close and our foreheads almost touch, I realize she’s comforting me. Not with words or reassurances she can’t guarantee, but with her touch, her presence. The pain in my chest eases as she rubs slow, gentle circles in my hair. Such a simple thing, but it grounds me. Reminds me that we’re in this together.

“You said always,” she whispers, emotion cloaking her words.

I watch as a tear slips from the corner of her closed eye, and I trail my thumb across her cheek to catch it. Her lashes flutter at the contact. I take a deep breath and just say what I feel. “I meant it.”

She exhales softly, moving to rest her head on my chest, and I swear I feel the moment she lets herself believe me.

This isn’t just about convincing Coach. It’s about convincing myself that I can do this. That I won’t be the guy who runs away, who leaves people behind. I can’t and won’t repeat the mistakes my dad made. And with her, I know I can do this.

I rub her back and look down at her snuggled into me. Her eyes open, meeting mine, and I see it there, the trust she’s just given to me. The hope and fear too, all tangled together. I shift my hand to the nape of her neck and pull her even closer, not for a kiss, but just to hold her tight. To make sure she feels the truth too.