Page 201 of The Coach

I laugh, swatting at his chest. “Oh my God! Why not go fullBeauty and the Beastand just name him Gaston?”

He grins, catching my hand and pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “I love the sound of that.” His grin turns mischievous before he launches into song, full Gaston mode.

I burst out laughing, pressing a hand to my face. “You’re ridiculous.”

I shake my head, still laughing, but then something settles in my chest—something real. “Ellie or Beau. I like them both.”

Jackson nods, his hand drifting over my belly again. “Then it’s settled. Gaston it is.”

I bite my lip and smile as I close my eyes again.

The sunlight sneaks through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden streaks across the room.

I stretch, reaching across the bed, expecting to find Jackson. But my fingers brush empty sheets.

I frown, blinking my eyes open.

Jackson stands at the window, already dressed in his gray Stallions tee and sweats, staring out at the Miami skyline.

His arms are crossed, his muscles tight, his jaw clenched—like he’s forcing himself to stay in game mode.

Like he’d rather be anywhere but on that field today.

I smile sleepily. “You’re up early.”

He glances over his shoulder, his expression softening. “You were tired.”

I yawn, stretching. “Still am. I don’t know what could’ve possibly worn me out…”

Jackson huffs out a low chuckle, running a hand through his messy hair. “I have no idea.”

I watch him, taking in the way the sunlight kisses his skin, the way his biceps flex when he shifts his weight.

God, he looks good.

Too good to let leave just yet.

I push back the covers, sitting up slowly. “What time do you have to go?”

Jackson checks his phone. “Soon. I already ordered room service for you. Figured you’d want to hang out with Cassie and Reagan, have a bougie little day in the box.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

He grins. “Nah. I just know you. You’ll be up there eating shrimp cocktails and drinking fancy-ass mocktails while I’m sweating my ass off in the heat.”

I tilt my head. “Poor baby.”

Jackson snorts. “Something like that.”

I slip out of bed, padding across the room toward him. “You could stay a little longer…”

He exhales, shaking his head. “Ivy?—”

I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his chest. “Just one more round.”

He goes still.

I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze.

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