Page 76 of Chasing The Goal
The words landed heavy—not because they were dramatic, but because they werereal. Plainspoken. Earnest. There was no edge in his voice. No guilt. Just the raw hope of someone offering without expecting anything in return.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, even though I did.
Jaymie leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He didn’t let go of my hand.
“I mean… you don’t have to do all of this alone. I know you’re used to carrying everything. I know that’s how you survive. But maybe it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. Not if you don’t want it to be.”
My eyes stung.
“Jaymie—”
“I’m not asking for anything in return,” he said quickly. “I’m not trying to fix everything or make some big declaration. I just… I like you. A lot. And I care about you. I’ve been thinking about you—every damn day. And I keep thinking if I don’t say something now, I’ll never forgive myself.”
My heart was thudding so loud it echoed in my ears.
He drew a breath. “I don’t care who the baby’s father is. I don't care that it's not mine. I don't care if you decide to tell the baby once they are old enough or not. I’m not here for the drama. I’m here for you. Because you matter. Because I want to be part of your life. However you’ll let me.”
Tears slid hot and silent down my cheeks.
I hated crying in front of people. Hated what it said, I never wanted to come off as weak or vulnurable, because of what it opened up. But right now, I couldn’t stop.
“Jaymie,” I whispered, voice cracking. “You don’t understand. I don’t know how to let people do that. I’ve spent my whole life being the one who holds it together.”
“I know,” he said, squeezing my hand gently. “But maybe you don’t have to anymore.”
I turned my face toward him. His eyes were so steady, so there. No pity. No pressure. Just this quiet strength that felt like a hand on my back when I didn’t know I needed one.
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“I am too.”
Wesat like that for a long time, the monitor beeping steadily beside us. The world outside the hospital faded into the background. It was just us in that room. No pressure. No pretending.
Just a girl who was finally too tired to hold it all in, and a boy who refused to let her go through it alone.
Mallory
I didn’t know aheartbeat could feel smug. I needed to text my sister but I had no idea where my phone was nor did I have the energy to ask. The monitor beside my bed pulsed in perfect rhythm, taunting me with every steady beat. The baby was fine—thriving, even. I’d heard it three times since midnight. The nurse had grinned, tapping the side of the machine like it was a magic eight ball delivering good news on repeat.
Healthy. Active. Not in distress.
Just me.
I was the one malfunctioning.
My blood pressure was still lower than they liked, my pulse a little too fast. The saline drip had helped, but it hadn’t erased the exhaustion crawling over my skin like static.
Jaymie still sat beside me, quiet, one leg bouncing like it had a mind of its own. He hadn’t let go of my hand all morning.
The doctor knocked once and stepped in. She was tall, maybe mid-forties, with soft curls pulled back and reading glasses perched halfway down her nose. Her name tag—Dr. Neves—was stitched into her coat pocket in navy thread.
She smiled, but her eyes were serious. “You gave us a scare, Mallory.”
I tried to smile back, but my mouth barely moved. “Seems to be a theme lately.”
Jaymie’s grip on my hand tightened.
Dr. Neves pulled the chair closer to my bed and sat without ceremony. She flipped open a tablet, glanced at the monitor, then looked back at me.
