Page 191 of The Coach

I swallow, suddenly overwhelmed. The way he looks at me, like he already knows the answer. Like he already knowsme.

“Come on,” I whisper. “Did you really think I didn’t?” My fingers trail over his jaw, my heart racing. “I love you, too, Jackson.”

His breath catches, and for a second, we just sit there, wrapped in the weight of everything we’ve already become. Then he exhales, squeezing my hand.

“Well,” he says gruffly, “we better head to your apartment then. Pack some stuff.”

“What?”

“If you’re moving in, I’m not letting you haul a damn suitcase alone. Come on, let’s go get your things.”

Whoa—this is happeningnow.

Tears burn at the edges of my eyes, but I just nod, biting my lip. Because this man—this man—is really in this.

And for the first time in a long time, I believe it.

It’s past midnight when I wake up, thirsty, back at my apartment.

I pad out to the kitchen and stop in my tracks.

Jackson is sitting at the table, notebook open, sketching something out.

I tilt my head. “What are you doing?”

He glances up, sheepish. “Figuring out nursery layouts.”

My heart stumbles.

I step closer, looking over his shoulder, and sure enough, he’s got a rough blueprint of the house.

“What about sleep?”

“Sleep? What’s that?”

“Real funny.”

He exhales. “I don’t want to half-ass this. I don’t want to just be a weekend dad. I want more. I want you.”

I swallow hard. “It’s just happening so fast.”

He nods. “I know.” Then, his eyes flicker. “Hey, I had an idea.”

I raise a brow. “That sounds dangerous.”

He smirks. “What if you came on a trip with the team?”

I blink. “Seriously?”

"Well, maybe just one. Before you can’t travel anymore.”

“Where are you next week?” I ask.

“Next week we’re in Miami.” Jackson leans forward, grinning. “You wanna come?”

I exhale. “Yeah…I’ll come to Miami. After that, I, uh, probably shouldn’t travel since the baby is getting further along.”

Jackson nods. “Right. When’s the due date again?”

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