Page 75 of Cross Check Daddies
After forty minutes, I stand, stretch, and head back toward the exit.
That’s when I see her.
She’s just turning into the lot, her car easing into a space near the building. I almost wave, but I catch sight of her face through the windshield and freeze. Her eyes are red, puffy. Like she’s been crying for hours.
I’m already crossing to her before she can step out. She opens the door, and I’m there, crouched beside her seat, eyes locked on hers.
“What’s wrong, baby?” My voice is low, my hand already brushing her hair back.
She blinks fast, swallows, and climbs out of the car, but I pull her in before she can speak. My arms wrap around her, and she sags against me like she doesn’t have the strength to stand alone.
I guide her into the passenger seat and close the door. Then I slip into the driver’s side and reach for her hand. “Talk to me. Whatever it is, we’ll sort it out.”
She breathes, shakily. Looks at me with eyes that hold too much. “I’m pregnant.”
Everything in me stills.
She continues, voice thinner now. “And I’m scared. I had complications when I was pregnant with Jackson. And this time... I can’t even do the test to see who the baby belongs to. Not yet. It’s too early. Too risky. So... it could be any of you.”
Her voice cracks. She turns her face away, ashamed or unsure.
I don’t speak right away. I sit with it. With her words. With the weight of what they mean.
She’s pregnant. She’s scared. And there’s no answer—not now—not one that tells her who the father is. I could obsess over that. A younger version of me probably would’ve. But the thing is... I’ve already built a life that includes her. I’ve pictured it. The late nights. The mess. The softness. I want her. Not just the best parts. I wanther. And if this is the next part of our story? Then so be it.
I reach for her chin and guide her eyes back to mine. “Okay.”
She blinks, confused. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Because I’m all in. You know that.”
Tears well again, but she laughs through them this time, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve.
“Hey,” I whisper, thumbing the side of her jaw. “You’re pretty as hell, even when you cry.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m yours. That’s all that matters.”
I kiss her gently. Her lips are soft and salty. She leans into it like she needs the warmth more than air. When we part, she’s quieter, her body just a little less tense.
The silence sits thick for a beat. We both know this isn’t small. This isn’t just another bump in the road. This changes things.
I press my forehead to hers, keeping her close. “Have you told anyone else?”
She shakes her head. “Just Ivy.”
She says it without hesitation, but I can see the weight behind her eyes. The fear is still there, threaded through her lashes, tucked beneath the way she tries to stay calm. But it makes sense—of course Ivy would be the one.
Ivy is her safe place, her mirror, her first call, whether it’s a legal disaster or a bad dream. If anyone would know before the rest of us, it’s her.
“I didn’t plan it,” Brooke says softly, voice fraying around the edges. “I just... She was here. And it hit me all at once. The lateness. The symptoms. And she looked at me and asked if I had tampons, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I bought any. It just—” She breaks off, exhales, shakes her head like she’s still catching up to her own reality. “I didn’t even get a second to be excited, Tanner. I went straight to terrified.”
My fingers tighten gently around hers.
“I had complications with Jackson. Bad ones. And now, with this... not even knowing whose it is? It’s not just the baby. It’s everything. You. Cam. Ace. My whole life is already tangled and now?—”
“Hey.” I touch her cheek again. “You don’t have to explain. You’re not alone.”
