Page 37 of The Coach

After a few minutes, I splash cold water on my face, the reality sinking in as I stare at myself in the mirror. When I walk back into the living room, I’m met with my mom and Carl’s concerned stares.

“Are you okay?” Carl asks, his voice gentle but laced with confusion.

I nod—too quickly, too stiffly. My throat tightens. “I’m fine. I just...I’m fine.”

I lower myself into the chair at the kitchen table, my heart pounding. My hands press against my lap, trying to ground myself, but my pulse won’t slow. The air suddenly feels thick, like it’s pressing in on me, making it hard to breathe.

I need to say it. I need to just say it.

I lift my gaze, meeting my mother’s worried eyes, then Carl’s steady but expectant expression.

“There’s something I need to tell you both.”

The words scrape against my throat as I force them out. My mother’s brow furrows, her hands stilling where they rest on the counter. Carl leans forward slightly, concern flickering across his face.

I inhale sharply, exhaling just as fast.

“I’m pregnant.”

The room goes completely still.

My mother’s eyes widen, her lips parting as if she’s about to say something—but nothing comes. Carl’s expression freezes, his fork stuck mid-air, his knuckles white around the handle.

For a moment, nobody speaks. Carl mutes the television.

I feel like I’ve just lit a fuse that could explode at any second. The room feels too tight, the air too thick. But I don’t want to take it back. Not anymore.

And now, I just have to face whatever comes next.

The silence after my confession feels like it stretches for hours, though it’s only a few seconds. My mom’s jaw is slack, her eyes wide. Carl, sitting with the remote still in his hand, stares at me like I’ve just told him I’m moving to Mars.

“Ivy,” my mom finally says, her voice trembling. “You’re pregnant?”

I nod, my throat tight. “Yes.”

“And the father?” Carl asks, his tone careful, controlled. “Is he...around?”

I shift uncomfortably. I’m not ready to answer that. Especially given the fact that I discovered the true identity of the fatherunder fifteen minutesago.On television.“It’s...complicated.”

“Complicated how?” my mom presses, leaning forward. “Is he someone you’re seeing? Does he know?”

“Mom, please,” I say, shaking my head. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Ivy, you just dropped a bombshell on us,” she says, her voice rising. “What do you mean, ‘not right now’? This isn’t the kind of thing you can just gloss over. Who is this man? Is he going to help you? Are you two together?”

I rub my hands over my face, heat rising to my cheeks. I feel cornered, the walls of the living room closing in. “I said it’s complicated.”

“Ivy,” Carl says, his voice calmer but firm. “Does this guy know you’re pregnant?”

I heave a loud sigh.

“He deserves to know,” he adds, when I stay silent.

“I don’t even know how to get in touch with him!” I snap, my voice louder than I intended. Both of them blink, startled by my outburst, but it’s like the floodgates have opened, and I can’t stop now. “I don’t have his number, okay? He doesn’t live here. He probably doesn’t even remember me. It was one night!”

The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. My mom’s face pales, her hand covering her mouth. Carl leans back on the couch, his expression unreadable. I can feel their disappointment, their judgment, and it’s like a punch to the gut.

“Ivy...” my mom starts, her voice softer now, but I hold up a hand.

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