She uncurled her fingers and placed the sonogram in my hand. It was creased from being held so tightly and a bit torn thanks to Matty’s dog, but I could still make it out—the little bean-shaped silhouette in the center no bigger than a strawberry.
Jesus Christ.
I stared at it, mesmerized by this little being I already loved so damn much. The onslaught of emotions rushed over me—awe, terror, gratitude. It was overwhelming, in the best way possible.
And then the dam burst.
“When’s your due date?”
“October eighth.”
The questions spilled out of me. “And are you taking your vitamins? How’s your blood pressure? Have you decided on your birth plan yet? Are you going to stop traveling with the team? That might be too much for your body.”
Her mouth dropped open, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Okay, stop,” she said, holding up her hands. “Back it up, coach. This is turning into an interrogation.”
I scrubbed a hand down my beard, dragging in a breath like it might calm the heat under my skin. It didn’t.
“I’m sorry, but this is a big deal. We have a lot to figure out, and I should’ve been there for you since day one, but I didn’t—”
“You didn’t know,” she cut in sharply. “I got that, Brooks. You’ve made it very clear that I should have told you sooner, and you know what? You’re right. And I apologize for that, but now that you do know, you’re acting like I’ve been completely reckless and incompetent.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She took a step back. “Are you sure?"
I reached for her again, but she dodged my touch.
“Dani—”
“You don’t get to show up and start barking orders like I’m one of your players, Brooks,” she said, voice trembling. “I’m glad you want to be involved, but that doesn’t mean you get to control me.”
“I’m not trying to,” I said defensively, but even as the words left my mouth, I wasn’t sure if they were true.
Because maybe, just maybe, some part of mewastrying to control it—her, this, all of it. Not because I didn’t trust her, but because the second I saw that sonogram photo, the earth shifted beneath me. The trajectory of my life changed. And I didn’t knowhow to exist in this new version of reality, where the woman I wanted was pregnant and I hadn’t been there for any of it.
Again.
I had seen this film play out before and sequels fucking sucked.
I was used to calling the shots, used to having a game plan. But there was no playbook for this. And watching Dani inch closer to the door, desperate for an escape, was starting to feel a hell of a lot like losing.
And I hated losing.
“I need a minute,” she muttered, snatching the photo from me and turning on her heel.
I watched her go, my hand still half-lifted in the air. But I didn’t chase her this time. I couldn’t, not yet at least.
The slam of the door echoed in my chest like a warning shot. My instincts were screaming at me to fix this, to follow her, to force a conversation until everything made sense again. But I knew better. If I pushed now, she would only run farther, faster—and maybe not come back.
If I wanted any chance in hell of being in this kid’s life—and hers—I needed to figure out how to show up without bulldozing everything in my path.
I wasn’t just some guy trying to make things right anymore. I was going to be a father again, and this time, I wasn’t going to fuck it up.
Dani
Roasters 16–10
