Page 128 of Make the Play

She goes quiet for a second. “You’re sure?”

“Charlie. Go have a baby. I’ve got the rest.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, and the line clicks dead a moment later.

I stand frozen in the middle of the room. My lungs feel too small, the air too tight and sharp. Charlie is in labor. Charlie is about to have a baby.

And all I can think about is how the last time someone I loved went into labor, they didn’t come home.

I blink hard and straighten my shoulders, noticing my hand is shaking as I lower the phone.

Chase is still silently watching me from the kitchen, and I exhale slowly, trying to shake the buzz beneath my skin.

“She’s four weeks early,” I say, my voice too light. Too fake. “But she sounds calm. Jake’s the one spiraling. Something about baby socks and a hairdryer.”

Chase doesn’t move. Doesn’t joke. Just nods once, like he can feel the tightness behind my words.

“She okay?”

“She says she is.” I tug my sleeves down, suddenly too aware of how cold my hands are. “Her parents are still in the air. Jake’s mom is a few hours out. So someone needs to watch Noah and Meadow until she gets there.”

He nods again, slower this time, setting his shake down. “What do you need?”

That question—the way he says it, quiet and sure—knocks something loose in my chest.

I clear my throat. “I’m gonna head over now. Get them through dinner. Bath time. Bed.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You’ll what?”

He steps out from behind the counter. “I’ll come.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

The silence stretches. His eyes don’t leave mine.

“You do realize this involves actual children, right?” I manage. “Two of them. Tiny sugar-fueled humans with no regard for logic or hygiene.”

His mouth tugs into the faintest smirk. “Sounds like my kinda party.”

My breathy, relieved laugh almost turns into something else. “You’re not going to teach Noah how to bodycheck someone, are you?”

“Not unless he asks nicely.”

I shake my head, already moving to grab my bag. I don’t say thank you. I don’t know if I could get the words out if I tried. But when I pass him to reach for my coat, his hand brushes mine, a finger softly flexing out over the top of my knuckles, and I realize he already knows.

***

Jake opens the front door in a full-blown sweat.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside. “You’re here.”

“Okay, you need tobreathe,” I say, gently pushing him back. “Charlie’s the one doing all the work. Your job right now is just driving the car.”

“I can’t find my wallet!”

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