Page 161 of The Coach

My pulse kicks up.

Before I can answer, my bellyflutters.

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, littlekick.

The most delicate movement, but strong enough to make my heartsomersaultinside 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.Jacksonis 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 thiskick.

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 abouthisthoughts on Coach Knox, something aboutdefensive strategies,but my mind is somewhere else entirely.

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

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