Page 8

Chapter Eight

IVY

Four Months Later

I stare at the front door of my parents’ house, my stomach twisted in knots.

I can’t believe I’m here. That I’m about to do this. But I’ve got to tell them.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see Lauren’s name flashing across the screen. It’s like she has a sixth sense about when I’m feeling anxious.

I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” I say, my voice shaky.

Lauren’s tone is instantly soft. “How are you holding up?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Not great.” My throat feels thick, clogged with emotions I can’t quite push down.

“What’s up? Is it something with the baby?”

I sigh. “I’m back in my thought spiral again.”

“Oh no.”

“I just don’t understand how he ghosted me like that. He didn’t even call. Like, I know it happens, but I really thought that night was special. Am I that out of touch with my feelings?”

Lauren sighs. “I know, honey. I know.”

“We ordered pizza that night. And did it again . The whole interaction just didn’t have ‘I’m gonna ghost you’ energy. But maybe my instincts are just wrong. It’s just a mindfuck. And now I feel like I can’t trust myself anymore. Ever again.”

I turn away from the house, walking a few steps into the yard, gripping the phone tighter. “But I keep thinking…what if something happened? What if there’s a reason?” My voice cracks. “But no, right? There’s no reason. He just…left.”

I have to wipe another tear away.

Lauren is quiet for a beat before she exhales sharply. “Ivy, listen to me. It has nothing to do with you, okay? He’s just an asshole. A coward. And you don’t need to waste a single second of your energy trying to figure out why.”

I bite my lip, blinking fast. “I just feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re human,” she says firmly. “You had a moment with someone. You trusted him. That doesn’t make you stupid, it makes you real. It makes you worthy of love.”

A tear slips down my cheek, and I swipe at it quickly. “I know. It just hurts. Like, a lot. Still. And it’s really starting to set in. I’m having a baby…on my own.”

“I know, babe.” Her voice softens, full of sympathy. “But you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me. You’ve got your family. And that baby? That baby is going to have so much love.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me, pressing a hand to my belly. “I hope so.”

“I know so.”

A long pause stretches between us. My eyes flicker back to the front door, my nerves creeping up all over again.

Lauren seems to sense it. “You’re about to tell them, aren’t you?”

I let out a shuddery breath. “Yeah.”

“You’ve got this.”

I swallow hard. “I hope so.”

“You do.” Her voice is full of certainty. “They’re going to love you no matter what. You know Carl loves to watch out for you. And your mom—this might be tough on her. But she loves you more than you know. And if not? If they give you any grief? Just say the word. I’ll hop in my car and tell them off myself.”

A small, watery laugh escapes me. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That’s my girl.”

I sniff, straightening my shoulders. “Okay. I should go.”

“You call me after, okay?”

“I will.”

And then, with one last deep breath, I slip my phone back in my pocket and walk inside.

When I open the door, the sound of the game on TV fills the house. Carl is in his usual spot—on the couch, remote in hand, looking like he owns the place. My mom is in the kitchen, setting out chips and dip, just like she does every opening Sunday. They’re both so comfortable, so unaware of the storm brewing in my chest.

“Hey, sweetie,” my mom says, glancing over her shoulder. “You’re just in time. Game’s starting.”

I give her a tight smile and walk inside, trying to mask the anxiety rolling through me. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Carl.”

“Hey, kid,” Carl greets me, eyes still glued to the screen. “New coach for the Stallions this year. Young guy. I think this could be our year!”

“Yeah, you say that every year,” I reply, dropping my bag on the chair and sitting down on the couch.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the TV. “I know, but this time I’m serious. This guy, he’s got something. I can feel it. Would you like a beer, honey?”

“No, thanks.”

I watch the talking heads absently, my mind wandering as I see my mom move around the kitchen. She whistles under her breath, cutting vegetables, glancing back at the screen every few seconds. I can’t help but feel the weight of the secret pressing down on me harder than ever.

I pull my phone out again, text Lauren.

Ivy: All they seem to want to talk about is the new coach. I can’t do this. What if they hate me for not telling them sooner?

Lauren: I promise, they’re going to be excited. You just need to say the words. You’ve got this.

I bite my lip and put the phone face down on the table, watching as my mom sets the food down and takes a seat across from me.

“Everything okay?” she asks, looking at me carefully. “You’re awfully quiet.”

I open my mouth to answer, but the words stick in my throat. I need to say something. I need to tell them, but I can’t get the words out. I try again, but nothing comes. My hands are shaking slightly, and I know they can see it. I remind myself that I’m twenty-seven years old, and I’m entitled to live my own life. But still, I’m nervous.

I take a slow breath. “Mom, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She raises an eyebrow, but Carl is still distracted with the game, muttering about the Stallions’ new coach, and my mom’s too busy adjusting her drink. It’s the perfect moment. I just need to get it out, but it feels like the words are stuck.

“Ivy?” she asks again, concern creeping into her voice. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My eyes flick to the TV, where they’re zooming in on a tall figure at the edge of the field—the head coach.

He’s not in a sharp suit, not like I stupidly pictured in my head for some reason. No, he’s dressed exactly how a football coach should be—a team-issued quarter-zip, a headset snug over his ears, and a cap pulled low over his eyes. He’s pacing the sideline with commanding intensity, his jaw tight with a neatly trimmed beard, his focus sharp as he barks something at one of his players.

And then, for one brief second, he turns toward the camera.

The flash of recognition slams into me like a punch to the chest.

I know that face.

I know that man.

It is unmistakably, undeniably, Jackson.

My Jackson.

I choke back a breath, my stomach turning over. “Oh my God,” I whisper to myself, more to my racing thoughts than to anyone in particular.

“Yeah, right?” Carl comments. “The man just looks focused out there. See, that’s what I’m saying . We’ve finally got an alpha coach. Apparently he got to training camp this July angrier than hell, and hasn’t let up one bit. Maybe he’s a little rough, but I think that’s what a team like ours needs. That old school touch of discipline. Like Ditka back in the day. I just hope he’s worth the damn hundred million dollar contract they gave him.”

Suddenly, everything in the room feels like it's spinning.

“I’m sorry Carl. Did you just say a one-hundred million dollar contract?”

“Yeah.”

I reach for my water, but it’s no use. The room tips and tilts, my stomach twisting, and before I can stop myself, I stumble to my feet, my head spinning.

That’s just the father of my child who I gave my number to, and he never called me back. No big deal.

“I’m…gonna go to the bathroom,” I mutter, racing out of the room.

I barely make it to the bathroom in time. At the sink, I’m retching, my stomach emptying as I try to breathe through the nausea. I clutch the counter, my mind reeling, trying to keep it together. This is it. This is the moment I can’t avoid anymore. It’s real. All of it.

After a few minutes, I splash cold water on my face, the reality sinking in as I stare at myself in the mirror. When I walk back into the living room, I’m met with my mom and Carl’s concerned stares.

“Are you okay?” Carl asks, his voice gentle but laced with confusion.

I nod—too quickly, too stiffly. My throat tightens. “I’m fine. I just...I’m fine.”

I lower myself into the chair at the kitchen table, my heart pounding. My hands press against my lap, trying to ground myself, but my pulse won’t slow. The air suddenly feels thick, like it’s pressing in on me, making it hard to breathe.

I need to say it. I need to just say it.

I lift my gaze, meeting my mother’s worried eyes, then Carl’s steady but expectant expression.

“There’s something I need to tell you both.”

The words scrape against my throat as I force them out. My mother’s brow furrows, her hands stilling where they rest on the counter. Carl leans forward slightly, concern flickering across his face.

I inhale sharply, exhaling just as fast.

“I’m pregnant.”

The room goes completely still.

My mother’s eyes widen, her lips parting as if she’s about to say something—but nothing comes. Carl’s expression freezes, his fork stuck mid-air, his knuckles white around the handle.

For a moment, nobody speaks. Carl mutes the television.

I feel like I’ve just lit a fuse that could explode at any second. The room feels too tight, the air too thick. But I don’t want to take it back. Not anymore.

And now, I just have to face whatever comes next.

The silence after my confession feels like it stretches for hours, though it’s only a few seconds. My mom’s jaw is slack, her eyes wide. Carl, sitting with the remote still in his hand, stares at me like I’ve just told him I’m moving to Mars.

“Ivy,” my mom finally says, her voice trembling. “You’re pregnant?”

I nod, my throat tight. “Yes.”

“And the father?” Carl asks, his tone careful, controlled. “Is he...around?”

I shift uncomfortably. I’m not ready to answer that. Especially given the fact that I discovered the true identity of the father under fifteen minutes ago. On television. “It’s...complicated.”

“Complicated how?” my mom presses, leaning forward. “Is he someone you’re seeing? Does he know?”

“Mom, please,” I say, shaking my head. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Ivy, you just dropped a bombshell on us,” she says, her voice rising. “What do you mean, ‘not right now’? This isn’t the kind of thing you can just gloss over. Who is this man? Is he going to help you? Are you two together?”

I rub my hands over my face, heat rising to my cheeks. I feel cornered, the walls of the living room closing in. “I said it’s complicated.”

“Ivy,” Carl says, his voice calmer but firm. “Does this guy know you’re pregnant?”

I heave a loud sigh.

“He deserves to know,” he adds, when I stay silent.

“I don’t even know how to get in touch with him!” I snap, my voice louder than I intended. Both of them blink, startled by my outburst, but it’s like the floodgates have opened, and I can’t stop now. “I don’t have his number, okay? He doesn’t live here. He probably doesn’t even remember me. It was one night!”

The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. My mom’s face pales, her hand covering her mouth. Carl leans back on the couch, his expression unreadable. I can feel their disappointment, their judgment, and it’s like a punch to the gut.

“Ivy...” my mom starts, her voice softer now, but I hold up a hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I didn’t come here for this. I just wanted you to know.”

“Ivy,” Carl says gently, “we’re just trying to understand. You’re going to need help. You’re not alone in this.”

“I need some air,” I mutter, grabbing my jacket and heading for the front door.

“Ivy!” my mom calls after me, but I don’t stop. I step out onto the porch, the cool breeze hitting my face, and collapse onto the steps, my head in my hands.

Outside, I pull my phone out of my pocket, my hands trembling. A new message from Lauren lights up the screen.

Lauren: How did it go?

I stare at the text, tears spilling down my cheeks. How do I even begin to explain the mess I’ve just made? I type back quickly.

Me: Terrible. I told them, and they freaked out. Started interrogating me. I had to leave the room.

A few seconds later, her reply comes through.

Lauren: They just need time to process. It’s a lot, but they’ll come around. I know they will.

I sniff, wiping my eyes. I want to believe her, but right now, it feels like everything is falling apart. Also…I realize I haven’t told her the wildest twist of the whole thing.

About how Jackson has been found.

After a few minutes on the porch, the screen door creaks open behind me. I keep my head down, my fingers laced tightly in my lap, bracing for what’s next.

My mom steps out, her soft footsteps creaking against the wooden planks. She doesn’t say anything at first, just sits down beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. The silence stretches between us, but it’s not as suffocating as before. It’s gentler. Softer.

“You know,” she says quietly, breaking the silence, “when I told your father I was pregnant with you, he wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

I blink, surprised, and glance at her. “Really?”

She nods, her lips twitching in a faint, bittersweet smile. “Oh, he came around, of course. But in the beginning? He was scared. Completely terrified. He didn’t know how we’d make it work. We weren’t exactly in a great place financially, and he didn’t think he’d be a good dad. It was... overwhelming for him.”

I swallow hard, her words sinking in. “I didn’t know that.”

She smiles a little wider, her hand resting on mine. “Of course you didn’t. You were the best thing that ever happened to us. He never let you see his fears, but trust me—they were there.”

I look down at my hands, my fingers trembling. “I’m scared too, Mom. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

Her grip tightens on my hand. “No one ever feels ready, Ivy. But you don’t have to do this alone. And if this guy—whoever he is—doesn’t step up? If he left you in the lurch? That’s his loss. You’re going to be an amazing mom. And I never want you to feel alone. We’re here for you, okay? Anything you need. Emotional, mental support. Even financial. We’ve got your back. Sorry if I reacted weirdly back there. It’s just, you caught me off guard. And the more information we have, the more helpful we can be.”

The tears I’ve been holding back spill over, and I let out a shaky breath, wiping my face with the sleeve of my jacket. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just...I didn’t know how.”

Her voice softens, full of love. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m just glad you told us now. We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

When I finally step back into the living room, Carl is still on the couch, the TV still muted. He looks up at me, his expression soft, his usual gruffness replaced by something gentler.

“You good?” he asks.

I nod, the weight on my chest lifting slightly. “Yeah.”

Carl leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Ivy, I have to ask. And I ask this from a loving place of zero judgment. You’re my girl. Okay?”

I bite my lip, crossing my arms. “Right. What?”

“Who’s the father? Just curious why you can’t contact him.”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. I glance at the TV, where the Stallions game is paused, the frozen image showing the face of their new head coach—Jackson Knox. His piercing blue eyes stare back at me from the screen, and my stomach twists into knots.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “It’s... complicated,” I finally say, forcing the words out. “I’ll tell you eventually. But I need to figure it out first.”

Carl studies me for a moment, his brow furrowed, and then he nods slowly. “Alright,” he says. “Take your time. But if you need anything— anything —you tell me. Got it?”

“Got it,” I whisper, my throat tightening with emotion.

He leans back into the couch, his eyes lingering on me for another moment before turning back to the screen. He unmutes the TV, and the sound of the game fills the room again, the white noise somewhat of a relief. My mom pats my hand as I sit down beside her, her presence grounding me.

It’s not perfect. It’s not easy. But it’s a start.

I’m carrying Coach Jackson Knox’s baby.

And—he ghosted me. After the most romantic weekend of my entire life.

Un-freaking-believable.

I get the feeling that football Sundays are never going to be the same.

I shoot Lauren a text.

Me: You need to come over. Right after the game

Lauren: Why, what’s up?

Me: I need to tell you in person. It’s too wild

Honestly? I’m shocked she didn’t recognize him in the picture.

Then again, football’s never really been her thing.

And since I’m about to be losing my mind tonight, at least I’ll have someone to freak out with.