Page 7 of The Game Plan
Groaning, I give up.
“Oh, no, thank you so much for the offer, Mrs. Campbell. I only came to tell Grant congratulations and to give him this.” Savannah smiles at my mom before reaching out to give me a blue gift bag I didn’t even notice was in her hands.
An awkward silence falls over us as I stare at the bag like there’s a bomb desperate to detonate inside. As she lowers it, her face falling, I snap back to reality and grab the bag.
“Th–” I start to say, before clearing my throat. “Thank you, Savannah.”
With a forced smile, she dips her head and turns to walk away.
“Grant,” my father grits out between his teeth. I’m unsure if it’s a grit of disapproval, frustration, disappointment, or all of the above.
Taking a step toward her, I call out to her. She pauses but doesn’t turn around. “Come to dinner with us.”
I know she’ll tell me no, so I cut her off before she has the chance. “Please.”
The drive back to campus is uncomfortably quiet. Gripping the steering wheel, I bite my cheek until a metallic taste floods my mouth. I welcome the pain to keep from blurting the million questions and thoughts I have floating around my head.
I’m grateful Crew tossed me his truck keys so I could drive Sav back. I don’t think I could’ve survived another awkward car ride with my parents as we all pretended there wasn’t an elephant in the car with us.
Dinner had been normal—or as normal as it could be. With Sav sitting across from me, her belly hidden beneath the table, it was easy to pretend she wasn’t pregnant. My family welcomed her like she’d always been a part of our circle. My heart squeezed at the thought of what could have been—or what could be. I still didn’t know if that’s my baby inside her.
Conversation flowed as we enjoyed our steak dinners. Mom asked about our lives while Crew cracked jokes and Bret threw in sarcastic remarks, lightening the mood. Dad and I sat back like normal, chipping in to the conversation when we needed to.
If I didn’t know any better, I would think it was a regular family dinner, not the most unexpected turn of my graduation day.
The closer we get to campus, the thicker the air gets. Tension swirls around us at the unsaid words.
I pull into the nearly deserted parking lot, a vast contrast to a few hours earlier. Scanning the lot, I find her red Civic. Stopping beside her car, I shift the truck into park but keep the enginerunning. The late evening sun beats down on us as KISS plays from the classic rock station Crew had preset.
My hands stay on the wheel. From the corner of my eye, I watch hers drift to her belly, rubbing almost absently. The silence stretches between us, swelling like a storm ready to break.
She’s the one who finally does.
Shifting in her seat, she turns to face me as she presses her back against the door. She nibbles on her thumbnail, a nervous tic she’s always had. Without thought, I reach forward and gently pull her thumb away. Instead of letting her go, I hold her hand. The touch brings me comfort. The truth is, I’ve missed her. Hopefully, our connection will give her the courage she needs to have this conversation.
As she glances down at our joined hands, a soft smile toys on her lips.
I wait patiently… Well, I try. My nerves are shot, and I’m forcing myself to keep the shaking at bay.
The lingering silence is thick and suffocating, but I don’t push. This is her story to tell, and I’ll sit here until deep in the night if that’s what it takes.
Staring ahead, I watch a flock of birds take flight and land. Always moving together. I hear her take a deep exhale and then another. With a gentle squeeze, she releases my hand. I hate the loss of her touch instantly. Her lips part, then press together. This hesitation, this not being able to talk to me, that’s not her.
That’s notus.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper.
My stomach tightens. “Told me what?”
“About the baby.”
Her voice wavers, but she keeps going. “I shouldn’t have disappeared on you for the last couple of months. I shouldn’thave ghosted you. I should’ve told you instead of…instead of hiding.”
Something cracks in my chest. Maybe it’s my heart breaking. Because, deep down, I already know the answer I’m desperate for.
I wet my lips and force the million-dollar question. “Is it mine?”
She stills. But I know before she says it. I can feel it, see it in the way her shoulders stiffen and her breath stutters.
