Page 37 of Ugly Duckling (Content Advisory #6)

There are just some sounds that people just love to hear. Shoes on gravel. The crackling of a fire. The snapping of necks of the people that think they can disrespect your babies. Laughing babies. Cats purring.

—Gunner to Sutton

SUTTON

Six months later

“Fuck,” I breathed as I stared down at the positive pregnancy test in my hands.

Shit, shit, shit.

I knew it.

Deep down in my heart, I knew that I was pregnant, but I was denying the very obvious signs.

Now I was at the damn Olympics, ready to run against the best in the world, and I was who knew how many months pregnant.

At least two months, if not more.

I’d been denying the truth for far too long.

But none of it mattered right now.

I had to run a race in less than six hours.

Nerves rattled my entire being as I picked up my bag and headed for the door. “Good luck!”

I waved at my suitemate—she was running the hurdles tomorrow—and headed off through the Olympic Village.

I freakin’ hated not being able to stay with my husband and kid, but I was excited to be here anyway.

I waved at people I knew as I caught the trolley that would take me to the track.

“Is that freakin’ Messi?” I heard someone ask.

I ignored them and picked up my phone, sending off a quick text to my people letting them know where I was at and when I would be there.

When I got there, I went to see the trainer. Then my coach. Hours later, I was warming up for what I thought to be my last Olympic race.

My nerves were eating away at my insides until I finally caught sight of them.

My mom and dad.

Lottie.

Webber and his wife.

The rest of the motorcycle club.

But no Gunner.

I had no clue where he was, but I knew he wasn’t far.

I could almost feel his eyes on me like a silent caress.

The coach came to me and patted me on the shoulder. “You ready?”

I nodded, not smiling. “I’m ready.”

“Go knock it out of the park.”

How he knew to use a basebally metaphor, I didn’t know. But it instantly calmed my nerves.

“Yes, Coach.”

I headed for the starting line, and a wolf whistle had me lifting my head.

And there he was.

His eyes were warm as he patted his heart. “Love you.”

I blew him a kiss, then got lined up.

The gun sounded, and I was off.

I ran.

I didn’t run fast enough, but I ran faster than I’d ever run in my life.

Even pregnant, I was still a top three finisher.

“Holy cow,” I panted, staring up at the big screen as our times were displayed.

I dropped down to my knees as a microphone was shoved in front of my face. “Third place. How does it feel, Sutton Sway?”

I shook my head. “It feels unreal.”

“This is your fastest time yet,” the reporter dropped down to his haunches in front of me. “How’d that happen?”

“Pregnancy boost, I guess,” I said before I could think better of it.

His mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry, what?”

I slapped my hand over my mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. I haven’t even told my husband yet. Can you, like, edit that out?”

He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, no. We’re live.”

I groaned. “Of course you are.”

There was absolutely no getting onto the field from the stands, so I had to go find my man in the stands.

Turns out, he found me before I could find him.

“Did you forget to mention something when we talked right before your race?” he asked, his hands slipping around me from behind, his large hands splaying across my belly.

“So about that…”

“Guess that means no marathon in six weeks?” he asked.

I turned in his arms and smiled. “Who said that?”

He shook his head. “The bronze. You took the fuckin’ bronze medal while pregnant. Not many people can say that, Sutton.”

I flushed. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He ran his finger along my jawline. “You can do anything. You don’t need no man.”

I scoffed. “You’re wrong. I always need you.”

Turns out, I was able to run four more marathons before I was officially too pregnant for Gunner’s peace of mind.

I didn’t win any of them, and actually kind of sucked up the last one, but I couldn’t be prouder of myself.

The only thing that made me happier was hearing news that a certain set of grandparents were sentenced to federal prison for the rest of their lives.

The good news kept coming a few days later when the news of Jackson’s sentencing came down, giving him twenty-two years.

His fiancée’s sentencing was lighter, but only because she turned on her newly minted fiancé and left him in the dust like a bad taste in her mouth.

Aleah died in state prison after a drug overdose.

Yates wasn’t in the country anymore, but Apollo kept strict tabs on him anyway, just in case.

All in all, I was sitting fat and happy by the time that my baby was done cooking.

And this time, with this baby, we finally did everything right.

Our son, Joseph Parker Penn, was born into his father’s arms a full ten pounds light. Kicking and screaming his head off, while his big sister watched on.

And what was in his hand, do you ask?

My IUD that failed, making him my little miracle baby.

Our miracle baby.