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Chapter Twenty-Nine

IVY

I’m curled up on the couch, a bowl of chips in my lap, trying to stay relaxed as the Stallions take the field against New York. Carl is at his usual spot—armchair reclined, remote in hand, completely locked in on the game. Mom is half-watching, half-scrolling on her phone.

The announcers' voices echo through the living room.

“The Stallions have been under a lot of pressure this week—not just from a tough New York defense, but from some off-field drama. The team’s dealing with major distractions, including wide receiver Travis Carter’s alleged paternity scandal. You have to wonder if all the personal turmoil is starting to affect their performance.”

My stomach twists.

I knew this was going to come up, but hearing it out loud makes me feel…exposed. I shift in my seat, staring at the screen.

Carl lets out a grunt, shaking his head. “Damn shame. You gotta be smarter than that.”

I do not react. I just dip a tortilla chip in queso, trying to look completely normal, even as my phone vibrates in my lap.

Jackson: You watching?

I bite my lip, quickly typing back.

Me: Of course. What kind of football girl would I be if I wasn’t?

Carl leans forward, eyes locked on the TV. “That new coach though? I like him. Knox. He’s no bullshit. The guys respect him.”

My fingers freeze over my screen.

I swallow. “Yeah?”

Carl nods, chewing thoughtfully. “He’s intense. But that’s what we need. A guy who’s gonna take charge. ” He dips his chip into the queso and looks at me, casual as anything. “What do you think about him?”

Oh. No.

My pulse kicks up.

Before I can answer, my belly flutters.

My breath catches.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

I press a hand to my stomach, completely tuning out Carl’s voice, the game, everything.

Was that?—

There it is again.

A tiny, little kick.

The most delicate movement, but strong enough to make my heart somersault inside my chest.

I don’t breathe.

My phone vibrates again.

Jackson: Thinking about you.

I squeeze my eyes shut, emotion swelling up inside me.

This is really happening.

This baby is real. Jackson is real.

And I don’t know what the hell I’m going to say to Carl right now, but I do know one thing.

Jackson needs to know about this kick.

Right now.

Ivy: The baby is kicking.

There’s no hesitation. No teasing response.

Less than five seconds later, my phone vibrates again.

Jackson: Holy shit.

My lips twitch.

Jackson: Like for real?

Me: No, I made it up for fun. Yes, for real! It just happened.

Jackson: Damn. I hate that I’m not there.

I exhale slowly, my free hand still pressed to my stomach, feeling another soft little nudge. It’s surreal.

Carl is still talking about his thoughts on Coach Knox, something about defensive strategies, but my mind is somewhere else entirely.

Jackson: I can’t wait to see you next week.

Me: Me too.

I glance up at the screen. Jackson is on the sidelines, arms crossed, headset on, all intense and locked in on the game.

It’s so weird, knowing that the man everyone in this room is watching, the man leading an entire football team in front of millions of people…

That’s him. That’s ours.

And next weekend?

He’s coming home to me.

On Tuesday morning, my stomach twists as I step into Principal Howard’s office.

I’ve been putting this conversation off, but there’s no more avoiding it. I have to tell her.

Principal Howard leans back in her chair, adjusting her glasses as she studies me. “So, what can I do for you?”

I swallow, forcing my voice to stay even. “I wanted to discuss my maternity leave.”

Her brows lift, and I don’t miss the way her gaze flickers down to my bare left hand. There’s a pause.

“Oh. Well…congratulations.”

I offer a small smile. “Thanks.”

She nods, steepling her fingers. “I assume you’ll be taking your full leave after the baby is born?”

“Yes. The due date is in February—so I’d like to take off starting in January. Then I’ll be back in August. I already looked into the policy, and I’ll submit all the paperwork this week.”

A beat of silence.

Then, the question I was hoping wouldn’t come.

“And—you don’t have to answer, Ivy—but I’m curious on a personal level.”

“About?”

“Who is the father?” Her voice is light, polite, but the way her gaze lingers on my hand makes it clear she’s wondering.

I don’t even hesitate. Keeping my expression neutral, I answer casually. “He’s a coach.”

Principal Howard blinks. “A coach?”

“Mmhmm.” I smile, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “A very busy one.”

There’s a long moment where she studies me, like she’s trying to piece the puzzle together herself. But when I offer nothing more, she finally nods and moves on.

“Alright then. Make sure to send in your paperwork by Friday.”

“Will do. Thanks, Principal Howard.”

“Oh, and Ivy?”

“Yes.”

“I had a feeling something was up with you. Looks like my instinct is still right after all these years.”

“Guess so.”

I’m on my feet and out the door before she can ask any more questions.

As I head back toward my classroom, my phone buzzes with a text.

Jackson: Morning, baby. Counting down the days…

A smile tugs at my lips.

Yeah.

Me too.