Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
The softest, craziest fucking sound I’ve ever witnessed.
A little broken cry.
Awe. Complete and total awe, that’s the expression that blankets her face.
Her entire body goes limp, tears streaming down her face at an unstoppable rate.
Slowly and with a bit of fear I didn’t expect, I face the doctor, vaguely aware of Parker and Kenra telling Payton how proud they are and how good she did.
My eyes lift, locking onto a little head, full of thick dark hair. Even covered in…whatever that is, it looks curly and perfect, and I swear to god, my heart, it jumps in my chest. Jumps, skips, and then shifts.
A hole opens up inside me, the teeny tiny little thing the doctor holds up slipping inside and filling it right back up.
My vision blurs, my body frozen in place.
Parker says something, walks by, and the nurse steps up, but I can’t hear her.
All I hear is him.
It is a boy. A little baby boy.
It’s like time doesn’t exist and the world stopped spinning, and all that’s left is him…and her.
Slowly, I turn, and as if sensing I was coming, her eyes move to meet mine in the same instant.
She smiles, and I hate the weight within it, but there’s so much joy there, too.
“You were right,” she whispers, blinking heavily. “It’s a boy.”
I’m not aware I’ve moved until her face is in my hands, my lips coming down on hers with such intensity my entire body vibrates. “Congratulations, Pretty Little,” I whisper against her. “You’re a mama now.”
“I’m a mom now,” she breathes, a slight tremble in her smile.
I push the hair from her face, and her eyes close, exhaustion setting in. Not a moment later, the nurse nudges my arms with her own.
“Come.” She dips her chin, so I spin, stepping beside the tiny little table they’ve laid the little guy out on. The doctor is talking to Payton, and I try to focus on what the nurse is saying, but I can’t.
“Why is he crying?” I ask, my hands lifting to touch him, but fear tethers around my muscles, holding me back. “Don’t cry, little man.” I swallow beyond the knot forming in my throat. “Your mama’s waiting to meet you, and you’re gonna scare her,” I whisper.
Suddenly, his wails soften, and my pulse hammers in my chest when he starts to blink. Just like that, his little eyes open, and all the air whooshes from my lungs.
“He’s…perfect,” I rasp, then notice the scissors held out before my hands.
My eyes snap to the nurse, and she smiles, pushing them into my palm. “Cut right here, daddy.”
My knees shake, white flashing behind my eyes. This is…
I don’t have words for what’s happening inside me right now, but it’s big, life-fucking-changing, and when I open my eyes, looking into his, everything inside me shifts. It rearranges, twisting, turning, and tightening. It clicks into place.
My lungs open up, and the air tastes different.
Daddy.
My vision blurs, and I reach up, running a shaky hand over his perfect little cheek.
Oh my god.
I…I want to be his daddy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Mason
Now, September
It never gets easier.
In fact, it only gets worse. Every. Single. Time.
It’s to the point where I can hardly sleep and forget to eat. I’m choking down protein shakes just to keep enough carbs in my body to keep it moving. It’s no wonder I got so trashed off the beer. I can’t remember eating anything yesterday, and who knows when I ate before that?
I close my eyes, taking deep breaths to keep from puking this vanilla shit all over the cab of my Tahoe.
It’s just after two in the afternoon, and there’s but a single car in the practice facility’s parking lot, most people not set to head back to campus until later this evening since we don’t report for official practice and classes until tomorrow.
That’s when the others will be back, tomorrow morning. The plan was to head back to the beach houses this afternoon when Noah had to catch his quick flight back to the team’s headquarters. Then tomorrow morning, we’d get up and make the drive early.
I was supposed to have one more day with my little guy.
One more day with her.
My jaw clenches, and I shove the door open, stepping out into the frigid morning air, tugging my hoodie up.
I couldn’t face her this morning. Couldn’t face any of them, and since Little D was asleep in the same room as his mama, I didn’t get to say goodbye.
The thought has my pulse pounding in my ears.
What if that’s the story of my life? A constant goodbye.
Quick visits that are over before they start, like a distant uncle or, worse, family friend.
I’m not just a fucking friend.
I’m more.
You thought you were more.
“Fuck,” I curse, quickening my pace and focusing on the echo of my own footsteps in an attempt to drown out my thoughts, but it’s to no avail.