Page 39 of The Coach

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “It’s... complicated,” I finally say, forcing the words out. “I’ll tell you eventually. But I need to figure it out first.”

Carl studies me for a moment, his brow furrowed, and then he nods slowly. “Alright,” he says. “Take your time. But if you need anything—anything—you tell me. Got it?”

“Got it,” I whisper, my throat tightening with emotion.

He leans back into the couch, his eyes lingering on me for another moment before turning back to the screen. He unmutes the TV, and the sound of the game fills the room again, the white noise somewhat of a relief. My mom pats my hand as I sit down beside her, her presence grounding me.

It’s not perfect. It’s not easy. But it’s a start.

I’m carryingCoachJackson Knox’sbaby.

And—he ghosted me. After the most romantic weekend of my entire life.

Un-freaking-believable.

I get the feeling that football Sundays are never going to be the same.

I shoot Lauren a text.

Me: You need to come over. Right after the game

Lauren: Why, what’s up?

Me: I need to tell you in person. It’s too wild

Honestly? I’m shocked she didn’t recognize him in the picture.

Then again, football’s never really been her thing.

And since I’m about to be losing my mind tonight, at least I’ll have someone to freak out with.

Chapter Nine

IVY

That night, I’m curled up on my couch, knees tucked under a blanket, my laptop balanced on my thighs. The soft glow of the screen illuminates my dimly lit apartment, casting shadows along the walls.

Jackson Knox’s face stares back at me from every angle. Piercing blue eyes. Dark hair. That perfectly trimmed beard.

I read a press release from late May about his hiring. Then a sports blog speculating on whether he can turn the Stallions’ struggling team around. There are a handful of interviews, but nothingtoopersonal—he’s a coach, not a player, so his image isn’t everywhere. But still...it’s more than enough for me to get a good look at him.

And it’s unmistakable.

The man I met in May—the man who got me pregnant—is now the head coach of a professional football team. The one my family and I cheer for, no less.

I exhale slowly, my fingers hesitating on the trackpad. I should stop looking, but I can’t.

I hear Lauren sprint up the stairs like she’s on a mission, her boots thudding against the steps. Thirty seconds later, she bursts through my front door, eyes wide with curiosity, already tugging off her jacket.

“Okay, what’s the big emergency?” she demands, dropping her bag onto my tiny couch. “You texted me in all caps. I assumed someone died.”

I gesture toward my laptop, still open on my coffee table. “Just…sit down.”

Lauren narrows her eyes. “You’re freaking me out, babe.”

I take a deep breath. “So…are you a football fan? Like, at all?”

She snorts. “Absolutely not. YouknowI’m a hockey and baseball girlie. Football’s not my thing. Why?”

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