Page 76 of Cross Check Daddies
She swallows hard, eyes wet still. “You’re not scared?”
“I am,” I admit. “But not of this.”
That surprises her. I can see it in the way her lips part slightly, like she didn’t expect me to say it out loud.
“I’m scared of something happening to you,” I say quietly. “But a baby? Not that. Not if it means getting more of you. I meant what I said. I’m all in.”
Her whole face softens, and when she leans into me again, it’s not just for comfort. It’s trust. It’s surrender.
And that wrecks me in the best way.
“Cam’s home right now,” I say carefully. “If you want moral support... I’ll go with you.”
She looks at me, hesitant but considering.
“I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” I add. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
Her shoulders drop.
She nods. “Okay.”
“This’ll be my first time seeing how the three of us interact,” I say as I shift into gear and ease out of the lot. Her hand is in mine, small and tense, thumb rubbing slow circles against my knuckle like she’s bracing for impact.
She hasn’t said much since we left her office, and I don’t push her. I just drive, the streets sliding past in morning light, the kind that turns windows gold and makes everything feel quieter than it really is.
“I was going to bring you breakfast,” I murmur. “Had a whole bagel plan. But maybe we do that now, yeah? Refuel before we head over?”
She hesitates for half a second, then nods once, lips pressed together. “Yeah. Okay.”
I give her hand a squeeze and swing left, toward her favorite spot by the marina. It’s early enough that the crowds haven’t hit, the windows are still fogged from prep, and the scent of toasted everything bagels and brewed espresso is already working its way into the air.
We sit in a booth tucked into the corner, her shoulders hunched like she’s still trying to fold in on herself. I keep it easy—let her pick at her cream cheese, watch the water, sip her orange juice. No pushing. No questions. Just space.
By the time we get back into the car, there’s a little more color in her face. She’s still quiet, still holding something too heavy for one person, but her breathing’s steadier. And when I glance over at the light, she meets my eyes. Just for a second. But it’s enough.
I kill the engine and glance up at the second vehicle already parked out front—Ace. Probably running strategy with Cam, talking lines and stats before practice. They’ve done it here before, a couple times. Neutral ground, close to the water, private enough to think. I’m not surprised.
What hits me is the way Brooke stares at the car like it’s some kind of omen.
“You okay?” I ask.
“No,” she says honestly.
“We are in this together. I’ve got you!”
She nods again, takes a breath like she’s about to swim into a rip current. I walk with her up the steps, still holding her hand. Her fingers tighten around mine when I push open the front door.
Cam and Ace are in the living room, both on the sectional, papers and tablets spread between them. They look up in sync. The second they see her, everything changes.
They’re on their feet in an instant.
“Brooke?” Cam crosses to her first, eyes wide, already reaching for her. Ace follows close behind, his attention sharp and anxious.
I step back enough to let them come to her, but I don’t let go of her hand. Watching them now, I see it clearly. How much they both care. How fast they fold around her without question.
“You okay?” Cam asks, his voice low but urgent. “What happened? You’ve been crying.”
“Shit, are you hurt?” Ace adds, brushing her hair back to search her face.
