Chapter Thirty-Seven
JAX
Miller and Kinsey went to grab a bite to eat while I made sure my mom had everything she needed for the night. She refused to leave his side. I didn’t blame her, couldn’t blame her since I wanted to do the same thing.
But according to my dad, I had rough practices and an even tougher game later that week, and since I made a promise to win and stop getting into fights, I knew it was time to go.
I held Harley’s hand and walked her all the way to my car.
I wasn’t sure what to say.
Words seemed so . . . inappropriate in this kind of situation. Thank you for making cookies for my dying dad didn’t quite cut it either.
Thanks for holding my hand when all I wanted to do was break.
Thanks for being you.
Thanks for not running away.
I clamped my lips together the entire ride back to my apartment. Not even thinking that she might want to go home.
Thankfully, Harley didn’t protest. Simply dropped her purse onto the countertop of my pristine granite and then reached for my body.
She pressed her head against my chest and whispered, “I know you’re not okay, so I’m not going to ask if you are. . . but what can I do to help you prepare for practice tomorrow? The game this week? Laundry? Cook? Clean?”
I grinned down at her. “You know how to do laundry?”
She pinched me in the side. “I know how to do a lot of housekeeping things. For example . . .” I exhaled while she moved around to my washer. “I know that this is the start button, I know that if I use cold water I can get stains out of the chocolate variety, and I know that even when a person’s sad, they still need food.”
I nodded. “Soup. You said you were soup people.”
“Butternut squash people, to be exact.” She winked and then in a husky voice added, “With a dash of bacon.”
“I don’t think dash has ever sounded so sexy.”
Harley hummed while she familiarized herself with my kitchen, and when she realized she’d need to go to the store, she kissed my cheek, grabbed my keys, said she’d be back, and then left me alone with my thoughts, with my sadness.
I took a shower then walked around my apartment like a zombie. Out of my control. All of it.
What the hell was I going to do without my dad?
It broke a piece of me.
It severed my heart.
And made me feel like I was just one second away from cracking; all my life I’d looked to him, and now I felt lost. Out of focus. Afraid.
Damn, I was so afraid.
And I wondered if I’d ever be the same without that man in my life, without his words of encouragement, without his crude jokes and ability to demolish an entire tray of cookies.
Lost in thought, I lay down on the couch.
It felt like minutes later when I was getting softly woken up.
Harley stood over me with a bowl of soup and the best-smelling bread in the entire universe.
I ate, and then I had another bowl and then I told her that if I wasn’t already half in love with her—the food would have done it.
She sucked in a breath.
I cursed the magic food.
“You mean that?” she asked in a small voice. “I mean we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”
“Yeah, well.” I put the bowl down. “Kinda feels like longer when you go through shit like this together, huh? It either kills a relationship or bonds you more.”
Her smile was weak and then she got up and left.
Shit. I messed up. Again.
Within seconds, she emerged from down the hall and handed me something.
Frowning, I looked down at the plastic stick in my hand.
Two blue lines crossed a little window.
Two.
Blue.
Lines.
“I suspected,” she whispered. “I was afraid to tell you—”
I devoured her next words with my mouth, lifted her onto the table, and braced the side of her face with my hands. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah.” She gulped. “Remember that first night?”
“I think it’s impossible to forget.”
It was only the second time I’d seen her blush. “I was afraid it was positive, afraid you’d run, and then all of this happened.” She sighed. “I pushed the suspicion back, thinking my body was just under an insane amount of stress, and then you came back and we were happy, and I thought, Oh great, just one more thing on his plate.” Her eyes met mine. “One more thing you can’t control.”
Our foreheads touched. I let out a long sigh. “You know, if there’s anything this last year has taught me, it’s that some of the best things in life can’t be helped or controlled.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Like you,” I whispered against her lips. “Like our baby.”
“Our baby,” she repeated with a smile.
“Yeah.” I kissed her softly on the mouth. “Ours.”
“Are we telling your dad about this?”
I nodded my head and laughed. “He’s going to kill me, call me an idiot, and then try to live just a little bit longer to feel that baby kick.”
“I hope so.” She touched her flat stomach.
“Thank you.” I lifted her off the counter and carried her over to the couch, careful to lay her down so that I was holding her, not heavily pushing against her frail body.
“For getting pregnant?” she teased.
“Sorry to break it to you but that’s all on me . . . it just . . . God, Harley, it felt so good to be in your arms, to have nothing but you surround me, I’ve never felt that way about anyone before, I think the first time I’ve ever fully relinquished any sort of control was that moment in your arms.”
She sniffled.
I looked over her shoulder. “Is the unbreakable Harley crying? Should I tell Grandma?”
She elbowed me in the stomach. “That was really sweet.”
“It’s true.” I kissed her neck. “So I guess you could say that the very first time I lost control—I wasn’t given one gift.” I pressed a hand to her stomach. “But two.”
She turned in my arms and kissed my mouth, her hands tugged at my hair and then my shirt.
Clothes were off in seconds without our mouths ever leaving one another.
And then, I was home.
In her arms.
And I had to imagine that this was exactly how it was supposed to happen for me, because in that moment, it seemed impossible for it to be any other way.