Page 50

Chapter forty-nine

Hudson

33 weeks

“Move your asses! We might be in the offseason, but some of you are getting jobs this year, and that means I still get to bust your asses!” Coach bellows, his voice sharp enough to slice through the morning fog.

I push harder, legs burning as I finish another sprint. Sweat makes my shirt stick to my body and my lungs feel like they’re on fire, but I won’t be the one who slows down. Not today.

During a water break, Seb leans over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Party at Benny’s tonight?” he calls out, glancing around to gauge the interest.

Miles is already nodding, that stupid grin on his face. “Hell yeah, Benny’s place never disappoints.”

I grab a bottle and pour water over my head, shaking it off before answering. “Eh, I don’t know, man. Daphne’s been wrecked lately. She’s thirty-three weeks now, and it’s really starting to hit her. I don’t think I can swing a party, especially when I’m trying to keep her off her feet.”

Seb whistles low. “Man, thirty-three weeks. She’s almost there. Doc’s still saying baby is looking good?”

“Getting there,” I say, “Still seeing Dr. Carter weekly but there’s less risk now. Placenta has moved enough that she’s happy and says baby is looking good.”

Seb chuckles. “I never thought I’d hear you talking about placenta, dude.” He slaps my shoulder. “Well, if you don’t make it tonight, you still coming to the Draft Party in a few weeks?”

“For sure, wouldn’t miss it,” I say as we make our way to the showers.

***

Daphne

The dim light of my desk lamp casts a golden glow over the small space of my dorm room, making the plain walls feel a little less sterile. I’m stretched out on my bed, propped up by too many pillows that never quite make me comfortable. The blanket Hudson got me for Christmas is draped over me. It’s soft against my fingers as I absently play with the edge.

At thirty-three weeks pregnant, everything feels heavier. My body. My eyelids. My emotions. Some days are good. Others feel like this. It’s a wild ride.

I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, a mug of ginger tea that Hudson insisted would help me feel better on my bedside table. The smell kinda burns my eyes. It feels like I’m drinking spicy lake water, and I don’t get how people like it. But I won’t tell him that.

The problem isn’t that I need tea; it’s that my body has apparently decided to rebel against me, and I don’t know what I want. I rub my temples, feeling the telltale throbbing of another headache coming on.

“Are you sure you don’t want crackers?” Hudson asks as he hovers like an oversized golden retriever. “Or toast? What about those little candies they sell for nausea? They’re probably on Amazon. I’ll order them.”

“Hudson,” I groan, dropping my head back against my pillows. “If you keep suggesting food, I’m going to throw something. Probably the mug. Possibly myself.”

He gives me a sheepish smile. “Got it. No food talk.” He flops down next to me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. Hudson always runs warm, and I like that. No, I love that.

“It’s not just the nausea.” I gesture vaguely to my midsection. “It’s everything. My back hurts, my chest feels like it’s hosting a boxing match, and I cried at a dog food commercial earlier. A dog food commercial, Hudson. I don’t have a dog. I’ve never had a dog.”

Hudson’s eyes widen, but he wisely doesn’t laugh. Instead, he reaches over and takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Hey, it’s okay. Hormones are wild. I mean, not that I know from personal experience, but do we need to call Dr. Carter, do you feel unwell?”

I glance at him, my expression softening at the fact he’s always just here helping me. “No, this is just being pregnant. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been…a lot lately.”

“Are you kidding?” Hudson says with a grin. “You’ve let me stick around, even when I’ve been completely useless.”

“You’re anything but useless,” I insist. My eyes sting, tears welling yet again. Suddenly every reassurance and comforting gesture from him and everyone in the last few weeks comes flooding back, overwhelming me. Maybe it’s the hormones or just the weight of everything catching up. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” I admit weakly. ”Everything’s fine physically with me and the baby, but it’s so much sometimes, thinking about what happens next and everything that’s going to be different.” I bury my head into my hands and sob.

“Hey, look at me.” Hudson gently tugs my hands away from my face. “You’ve got this. You’re the most badass person I know. If anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

My heart pitter patters a lot harder when he says sweet things like that.

“I just thought about all the things we’ve not covered, and it felt too much.”

“Tell me,” he says without hesitation. “And we’ll pacify that beautiful perfectionist brain of yours.”

I sniff, wiping the wetness from my cheeks. “What if I go into labor and you’re not here?”

“There’s these magnificent things called phones, I don’t know if you’re familiar with them, but you’d just have to tap a few buttons and I’ll be at your beck and call.” His grin is cheeky and satisfied.

I huff lightly, but anxiety still churns in my gut. “And school? I’ll miss classes and fall behind—”

“We’ll plan around it,” he interrupts gently. “I already talked to my professors. There are resources for students who are parents. We can get notes, recordings, extensions, in case we miss classes when the new semester starts. It won’t be perfect, but we can handle it.”

I nod slightly, but another wave of worry rises. “And what about money, or dorms. We can’t live here with a baby, parties happen most nights, it’s not even big enough for all the stuff babies need and we don’t have anything.” I can feel the heat creeping up my chest in a frantic panic. “Where will we even live?”

“Together,” he answers immediately, pulling me into his arms. “Campus housing for families is full this year, I checked, but I’ve already been saving money. We’ll make it work, find somewhere, I promise. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

I shake my head against his chest. No he hasn’t and I don’t think he ever will, it’s just not who he is. He’s dependable, honest and kind, and if he says things will work out then I believe him. That lump in my throat swallows down easier, as I inhale his clean soapy scent. For once in my life I let go of the urge to have everything perfectly organized, realizing the beautiful chaos of this baby, our life together, is exactly as it should be.

Tears well up again, but this time they’re from relief, not anxiety.

He pulls me closer, and I sink into his embrace. Warm. Calm. Mine. “Do you want me to find that dog food commercial? We can cry together.”

I sniff and laugh, pulling back I look up at him. “It would totally make you cry, too.”

“I have no doubt. I’m a crybaby.” He shifts so we’re more face to face now. “Do you want a distraction?” he asks.

My eyebrow arches. “What kind of distraction?” If it requires me moving, then I’m probably not up for it.

“Some of the guys are partying at Benny’s.” He shrugs, and I feel a pang of guilt for all of this, him being here and not able to spend evenings with his friends.

I swallow that burn in my throat. “Do you want to go?” I can’t look at him. Suddenly, the fear of keeping him here when he doesn’t want to be here feels too much, and I know that’s ridiculous but, apparently, I’m feeling ridiculous tonight. I’ll cry harder if I see even a glimmer of hope there.

“It’s fine if you do,” I add quickly, trying to sound breezy, though I can feel my voice wobble. “I’m probably just going to stay here, you know, preggo and all. It’s not really the party vibe. Not when I’m rounder than every single person there.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and I steel myself for the worst. I imagine him telling me he’s heading out, that he needs a break, and that he’ll be back later. But instead, he leans in close, his breath warm against my cheek.

“Daphne?” he murmurs, his voice low.

“Hm?” My throat tightens as heat prickles across my skin, clashing with the goosebumps he’s giving me. I brace myself for his words, for him to tell me he’s leaving, or worse, that he wants me to come with him.

“I really don’t mind,” I cut him off before he can speak. “You don’t need my permission to go without me. Seriously, if you want to go, just go.”

His lips curve into a soft smile as he brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “I love you. I want to stay here,” he says, his voice firm but tender. “In your dorm, snuggling you, and feeding you ice cream. Fuck the party. There’s no place I’d rather be than right here, baby.”

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. My heart feels like it’s about to crack open, all my fears instantly melting away.

That is the most romantic thing he will ever say to me.

***

It’s 2 a.m., and I can’t get comfortable. No amount of tossing and turning, even watching re-runs of trashy TV, has settled me. I’ve spent all night tossing and turning, adjusting my pregnancy pillow, but nothing is working. At this rate, we should’ve just gone to the party. I might’ve found a more comfortable sleeping spot somewhere random.

“What’s up? You’re like lightning in a bottle tonight,” Hudson says, his voice raspy and deep from sleep.

I sigh, slapping the bed covers with my palms. “I can’t get comfortable. The baby kicks me, or I keep thinking of the reel I left in my drafts yesterday. Or the fact that I might need to pee again. Then it’s back to baby kicking again. I swear if they’re a night owl, I’m going to cry.”

In fact, maybe I’ll prelude that by crying right now.

“Come here,” Hudson says, pulling me into his front, blanketing me in his body heat, his hand resting on my stomach. It feels so good, but it lasts for seconds before his palm is almost kicked away from me. “Woah, she’s spicy tonight. Do we need to call Dr. Carter?”

“No, they’re always like this at night. You know that I’m probably going to have some kind of monster football playing baby try to destroy my vagina on its exit out of me.” A tear leaks from the corner of my eye, dripping onto the pillow.

Hudson bursts into laughter, his shoulders shaking.

“What’s funny? I’m crying, Hudson!” I snap, wiping a tear from my cheek.

His laughter cuts off abruptly. “No, princess, that’s not funny,” he says quickly, his tone earnest. “I’m sorry you’re feeling sad. I just… I imagined the baby coming out yelling ‘Touchdown!’ and it was…” he trails off when he sees my glare. “No, definitely not funny. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll never speak again.”

It’s quiet for a moment, but then I feel it, his shoulders juddering behind me. He’s still laughing. Tears prick my eyes again, this time from rage. I’m going to kill him. Mrs. Peacock, in the drawing room, candlestick style.

“Hudson!” I cry out as I twist in his arms to confront him.

His face is streaked with actual tears of laughter, and he’s struggling to control himself, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” he says between gasps, his voice still shaking with amusement.

I try to push away, but his arms tighten around me, pulling me back down. “No, wait—don’t get up,” he says quickly, his tone suddenly soft and serious. “I want to try something. Just…lay back for a second, okay?”

I narrow my eyes at him but reluctantly settle back against the pillows. He takes a few deep breaths before he shifts beside me, grabbing his pillow and moving it.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He adjusts the pillow so it’s resting directly next to my bump, his fingers brushing lightly over my stomach. “I’m making space,” he murmurs. “For her.”

His hand slides back to my belly, and he leans down, his face close enough to speak softly. “Okay, little one, listen up. You’re already giving your mom a hard time, so it’s time to chill, okay? No more touchdowns tonight.”

“She’s not listening,” I say, wincing as a foot goes straight into my rib cage. I squirm, trying to rid myself of that feeling but it’s no use. Hudson adjusts himself, smoothing his hand over my top, then lifting it higher until my belly is exposed to him.

“Hey, baby girl,” he says softly, his lips curving into a grin that makes my heart flip.

I roll my eyes, even though I’m smiling. He ignores me completely, his focus locked on her. “Now, don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to our daughter,” he says, shooting me a mock-scolding look before leaning in closer. His breath skates across the bare skin of my stomach, which sends an explosion of goosebumps all over. “It’s your daddy. I think it might be time to take it easy on your mom with the kicking, okay? She needs to sleep a little.”

The baby gives an almost perfect response, a nudge right where his hand rests, and he laughs, his face lighting up. “Oh, so you’re feisty like her, huh?” He glances up at me, eyes sparkling. “That’s good, we like a girl who can hold her own, but maybe it’s time to sleep.”

When the kicking stops, his lips press softly against my skin. I’m trying so hard to keep it together and let him have this moment with the baby, but it’s really fucking difficult when I want to jump him and scream that I love him.

“Hmm,” he hums, turning his attention back to my belly. His hand rubs slow, circular motions, his touch so gentle it makes my throat tighten. “You should know, little booger, your mom’s beautiful even when she’s exhausted. I can’t take my eyes off her—or you.” He presses another kiss to my stomach, then rests his forehead there for a beat. “Love you, baby girl.”

My heart stutters against my ribcage. I swallow hard, willing myself not to cry. On brand for me, really.

As he sits back up, I force myself to speak, trying to sound normal. “You’re so perfect, you know that?” I trace my fingers over the slight stubble on his jaw.

He flushes, and I love how easily he wears his emotions. He never hides from me. “Yeah? High praise coming from you,” he says, his voice warm “You’re pretty perfect too, princess.”

His lips brush mine, slow and sweet at first, savoring the kiss. “I love you,” I whisper. But then it shifts, the heat between us building with every movement, every soft sigh. Firm and possessive, his hands find my waist, until I’m climbing on top of him. “I love you,” I repeat, because I want to tell him all the time.

I melt into him. The only place I want to be.