Page 36

Chapter thirty-five

Daphne

My lips are still tingling.

I kissed Hudson. I had a moment of weakness when I felt so utterly wanted by him and safe that I leaned into it. Just like the night we met, he made me the center of his world for that moment, and it was glorious.

The drive back to campus is quiet, save for Gracie playing through the radio, but I need a second to process what happens next. There’s a lot going on in our lives and so many people who still don’t know about the baby. Have I just complicated things too much?

“You okay over there?” Hudson’s voice cuts into my thoughts, warm and familiar.

“Yeah,” I say quickly, glancing at him, the books in my lap suddenly feeling heavier. His eyes flick to me for just a second, and I catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you freaking out after kissing me in public.”

Well, damn, am I that transparent? “I’m not. I’m thinking about…ideas. Yeah, I’ve had some more ideas for my social media segment, that’s all.”

Liar liar pants on fire, Daphne James.

“Okay,” he says, taking my word for it, letting me have the space to freak out. All the while, his hand drifts to my thigh, where it stays and squeezes, reminding me that he’s right there, steady, constant and so handsome it hurts. Okay, that last part is because I’m now staring at him.

“So, I was thinking,” he starts. “We haven’t talked about Thanksgiving, and it’s this week. What are your plans?”

I put away my googly eyes for a second and focus on what he’s saying. “Oh, um, I was going to get the bus to WSU to see Liv, but I think she’s got a new boyfriend, so I’m not sure now.”

“You should come to my house instead,” he suggests. “You could meet my mom and Rory. And maybe…” Rubbing the back of his neck, his voice softens. “Maybe we tell them. About the baby.”

Swallowing roughly, I can only stare at him. “You’d want that?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I mean, they’re gonna find out eventually, right? And it’s not like we can hide it forever. Besides, I thought you’d like to meet them.”

“I do,” I say quickly, but I can’t deny there’s a fear in the back of my mind anticipating his mom’s reaction. What if it’s the same as my dad’s? No, I can’t think like that. I need to enjoy the time we’ll have away. There’ll be less schoolwork, less stress, and time to actually relax. “I would love to meet them.”

His grin spreads like an untamed wildfire blazing across his entire face, lighting it up, and my poor, weak heart can hardly take it. “Good. Great. Okay, phew.” He mock wipes his brow and winks at me. My gaze snags on my scrunchie on his wrist, and I falter. “Now you can go back to freaking out over kissing me.”

And I do.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as the final whistle blows. Our team wins by a narrow margin, and the celebration on the field is instant. Players rush together, helmets clanging and arms raised in victory. I can’t help but grin from the sidelines, my heart swelling with pride. Dad is pacing up and down, his arms crossed, but his expression unreadable. He hasn’t looked Hudson’s way once, even though Hudson played his heart out.

It’s like there’s this invisible barrier between them, and it makes my stomach twist. I should talk to Dad, try to smooth things over, but I don’t think I’m ready just yet.

Then my dad steps closer to Hudson as he waits to go on the field.

Hudson’s body tenses immediately, his shoulders squaring, like he’s bracing for impact. My dad says something, and Hudson’s jaw tightens.

Dad’s face is hard, his eyebrows low, and his mouth tight, and whatever he’s saying has Hudson’s lips pressing into a firm line. Hudson responds, his head tilting slightly.

And then my dad steps in closer. Not aggressively, but enough that it feels...personal. His finger lifts, pointing at Hudson’s chest as he says something else, his lips moving fast and firm.

Hudson doesn’t back down. He stands his ground, his chin up, his stance solid. But his mouth moves, a short reply that makes my dad’s eyes narrow.

My stomach knots. It looks heated. Tense. Like the air between them is crackling, and any second, it could spark.

But then, without warning, my dad steps back. No explosion, no shouting, just a hard, lingering look before he turns and stalks away.

And Hudson stays rooted to the spot, his chest rising and falling as he watches his retreating back. Then, slowly, he turns toward the field, his face unreadable. But there’s something simmering there. Frustration? Amusement? I can’t tell.

I swallow, my pulse pounding. What the hell was that ? Maybe it had everything to do with the game and nothing to do with me. Maybe that’s normal for them. But when Hudson doesn’t look back up at me again until it’s over, I have a feeling in my gut that it was a lot to do with me.

Hudson disappears into the locker room with the rest of the team, and I start to head toward the exit. My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts.

Hudson

Meet me outside?

Daphne

I’ll be there.

Nerves make my palms sweaty, even though the cold air nips at my cheeks. The door opens, and I expect to see some of the team, but it’s my dad. My stomach clenches, not prepared to talk to him right now.

As our eyes meet, his steps falter, but it lasts a second before his strides pick up, heading my way. “Hey sweetheart,” he says, like everything’s normal.

“Dad,” I clip.

His eyes flicker at the edge in my tone, but he doesn’t call me on it. “Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“Well,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “I wanted to support Hudson. Plus, we’re going to his mom’s house after this.”

“Right,” he says quietly. “Your mom mentioned you weren’t home for Thanksgiving this year.”

The awkward tension between us grows like a sinkhole opening between us, and although I’m mad, I’m also beginning to feel upset too. My nose tingles as I think about all the other times we’ve spent Thanksgiving together and how great things were. But now it’s all strained and uncomfortable and the perfectionist in me wants to say I’m sorry, let’s forget about all of this, but that’s not enough anymore.

“Hudson played a hell of a game, by the way.” His comment catches me off guard as I remember the exchange between him and Hudson on the field. A boldness washes over me as I think about what he might’ve said to him.

“Did you tell him that?”

His eyebrows pinch, and for a second, I think he’s going to push back. “I did tell him.”

I narrow my eyes. “Really?”

“With the rest of the team, before I left.” He looks down sheepishly.

“Dad,” I groan. “Come on. You know that’s not the same.”

With his blue eyes holding my gaze, his jaw tightens. “I’m his coach. That’s how I show it, with the team.”

I shake my head, frustration prickling at my skin. “But you’re not just his coach anymore. You’re my dad, and he’s the father of my baby.”

Dad exhales heavily, but I don’t miss the stutter in his expression either. “I know that.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re making this a test he didn’t sign up for?” My voice wobbles, and I hate it. “He cares so much, and he’s a good guy.”

“You have to understand that all I’ve ever known him to be is one of my best players, sure, but also a serial ladies’ man.”

I scoff. “Ladies’ man. That might’ve been who he was before, but he’s not like that. He’s kind and sweet. Caring and supportive, and all you’ve done is push him away. And me with him.”

He swipes a hand over his jaw. “I’m trying to protect you.”

I laugh, but it’s short and unsteady. “From what, Dad? Being happy?”

“No,” he says firmly. “From getting hurt.”

His words hit hard, and my throat burns. But isn’t he aware of how much hurt I’ve been in? “Dad,” I start. “Do you not see that you’re the one hurting me? The way you’ve acted since we told you about the baby, how you made us feel—”

His phone rings, cutting me off, and he pulls it out with a sigh, muttering a curse under his breath. “I’m sorry, I have to get this.” I think he might hug me, but instead, he just places a hand on my shoulder. The gesture is so far from what he’d usually do, and taking the phone call over talking to me… it all makes my eyes burn. And then he leaves, walking back to the front of the stadium.

I have no idea how much time passes, but I’ve managed to hold back the tears for now. Maybe things aren’t ready to be resolved between us yet, and I need to accept that.

The door creaks open, and Hudson, along with a few other guys, file out, some of them spotting me and shouting hey. Hudson laughs but waves off his friends and jogs over to me. “Everything okay?”

“I’m good,” I say, giving him a small smile. He tracks the movement and frowns.

“Then why do you look so sad?” He hardly hesitates before pulling me over to him, wrapping me in his arms. His fresh scent is a comfort that I need.

“I talked to my dad,” I mumble against his sweater.

As he raises his thumb to brush my cheek, chasing the last trace of tears, I pull back to look up at him.

“You did?”

I nod, my fingers seeking his warm hands. “It’s fine, we talked. Nothing was resolved.”

“I’m sorry, Daph. He’ll come around.” His hand squeezes twice around mine as he looks directly at me. For whatever reason, I think I needed to hear him say that, to affirm the hope lingering within me. My heart settles, anchored by him. He dips his head, nose brushing mine. “Ready to go?”

I breathe out a little laugh. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

He grins, tugging me toward the car, then stops suddenly. “Oh, I forgot, I picked this up for you.” Reaching into his gym bag, he pulls out another plastic bag and pushes it toward me.

I blink, caught off guard. The bag rustles as I open it, and inside, there’s four different types of candy. Sweet, sour, hard, soft. He’s thought of everything. All because I said to him once last week that I was craving something sweet.

The emotion swells too fast, too big. I drop the bag and grab his face, pulling him into a kiss that mixes with my tears.

He meets me halfway, his lips firm and sure. His hands find my hips, gripping like he’s holding me together and holding me close all at once.

When we break apart, he smiles, eyes half-closed. “All that for candy?” His smile is endearing, and that knot in my stomach loosens again. “Come on, princess. Let’s go.”

Earlier, I was nervous about meeting his mom and sister, but now all I feel is content because he’s with me.

When we get to his mom’s house, it’s late, and it’s clear everyone’s already sleeping. He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the door as quietly as possible. Inside, the house is warm, the faint scent of vanilla and something homey lingering in the air.

“Come on,” he whispers and waves me inside.

I follow him down a short hallway, my sneakers muffled against the carpet. He stops at one of the doors and pushes it open, flicking on a small bedside lamp.

“This is my old room,” he says, then steps aside to let me in.

It’s everything I expected, football posters, a shelf of trophies, and a bed that looks a little too small for him now. The comforter is navy blue and slightly faded, and there’s an old high school jersey draped over the back of a chair in the corner.

“You’re sure this is okay?” I ask, glancing back at him.

“Of course,” he says, his tone easy. “I’ll take the couch in the living room. You get the bed.”

“Hudson,” I start, but he’s already holding up a hand to stop me.

“You’re my guest,” he says firmly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I don’t think I trust myself to sleep in a bed with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

My pulse ricochets, but before I can process his words, he leans in, slipping his arm around my waist, holding me against him. His lips press to my forehead, and everything else just kind of melts away.

“I’ll be right down the hall,” he whispers against my skin. He steps back, moving to his bed and pulling back the covers as I take off my shoes. “Get some sleep.”

When I don’t move, he crosses back over in two easy steps. Without a word, he takes my hand, his palm warm, and gently tugs me toward the bed. When I sit, he guides me backward, pulling the blanket up over me, despite me still wearing my leggings and sweater, but I say nothing. I’m so tired and it seems he can tell. He looks down at me, then pushes a stray piece of hair behind my ears and smiles. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

Then he’s gone, and even still, the warmth of him sinks into my bones.

I stare up at the ceiling and let out a slow breath as I think about tonight, my dad, the baby, Hudson and what’s to come tomorrow.

“You’ve got this, Daph, you’re going to be fine,” I whisper to myself.