He chuckles. “Happy to be here now.”

  “Let’s take a look inside.”

  I lay back in the chair with my stomach exposed. Hunter sits beside me with his hands in his lap. His eyes roam the room, staring at anything other than me, but I don’t take it personally. There’s a lot of weird stuff to look at in here, from the near-graphic posters to the 3D vagina models on the shelf above his head.

  Dr. Jones wheels a cart closer and sits on my other side.

  I focus on the small screen nearby as she slathers that gel on me. It’s been about a month since that first ultrasound. Will it be twice as big now? With fingers and toes?

  Shit.

  Maybe I should read one of those baby books.

  “Okay.” Dr. Jones turns on the machine. “Do you have questions for me?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Nothing at all?” She smiles. “There’s no such thing as a stupid question when you’re a first-time mom. Some symptoms, ailments, or quirks are universal to all pregnancies, but others are unique to you. So, speak up.”

  I inhale sharply, then pause. “No,” I say. “Nothing.”

  She studies me for a moment, then looks at Hunter. “How about you?”

  He blinks. “Me?”

  “Dads usually have the most interesting questions. Like, can the baby see my penis during sex?”

  I chuckle as Hunter furrows his brow.

  “Can it?” he asks.

  Dr. Jones lays the wand on my stomach. “No. It can’t even feel the difference between sex or running up a flight of stairs. Intercourse is safe and greatly encouraged during a healthy pregnancy. Go nuts.”

  He exhales. “Cool.”

  A soft thumping comes out of the speakers, sending both of us into silence. I recognize it immediately, but I watch Hunter’s falling face as he slowly realizes what it is.

  “Pulse is very strong,” Dr. Jones mutters. Just another day for her.

  Hunter says nothing. He doesn’t even breathe.

  She adjusts the wand’s angle, and it takes shape. A body. A head. An itty bitty nose.

  I hold my breath, too.

  “Looks about ten inches long. Eleven, maybe,” Dr. Jones says.

  “Is that good?” I ask.

  “That’s what we want at this stage.”

  Hunter squeezes my hand. I look down, surprised. I didn’t notice him reaching for it.

  “Can you…” He clears his throat. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  “Yeah, can you?” I ask, unknowing.

  “It’s possible, but…” Dr. Jones slides the wand over my belly. “It looks like they’ve got their legs crossed. No peeking today.”

  Smart kid. I wouldn’t want a bunch of strangers checking out my junk, either.

  “Questions?” Dr. Jones asks again, her voice pointed at me. “Now’s the time to spill your mind.”

  Hunter stays quiet.

  “Um.” I pause. “Yeah. I…”

  Dr. Jones waits patiently.

  “I still haven’t felt it move yet,” I say. “That’s weird, right?”

  “Not at all,” she says, adding a smile.

  “No?”

  “Totally normal. A lot of babies don’t start kicking up a fuss until the third trimester. Warm and comfy in there right now. Just wait until that one bedroom shrinks into a studio.” She grins again. “You’ll feel it.”

  Tears threaten to spill, but I hold them back. “Okay,” I whisper.

  I swallow hard as Hunter squeezes my hand again.

  CHAPTER 25

  HUNTER

  “Strike three!”

  I lower the bat to my side as the crowd deflates with disappointment.

  Fuck. That’s my third strike out of this game. I don’t blame them at all for being pissed at me. I’m Home Run Hunter. They paid money to see me hit home runs, but I just can’t seem to land a single hit today. Not even a damn graze. I’ll take a fucking pop fly at this point. A foul ball. Anything but this.

  Seeing my baby this week really messed me up. It’s only ten inches long. It should not have this much power over me, but hearing that heartbeat was like a damn ticking clock.

  That baby is coming and when it does, it deserves everything I ever had and more.

  I’m not sure if it can get it from me.

  I plop down in the dugout, ignoring the eyes of my teammates. At least they’re playing well this game — well enough to keep us in the lead by a wide margin. That just makes me feel even more useless, though.

  Carl makes eye contact with me. I can already tell what lecture I’ll get after the game. He thinks I’m doing exactly what Bud warned me not to do; that I’m letting my inevitable stardom get to my head. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s not the dream of flying first class and being put up in fancy hotels and playing in the best stadiums ever built that’s screwing up my game.

  It’s that damn heartbeat thumping in my head.

  And Daisy. She looked as clueless as I felt. She tried to cover it up by cracking jokes and putting on a tough front afterward, but her face was pale white the entire time.

  Limit distractions.

  I never thought of Daisy as a distraction, but she clearly is now. The last thing I want is for her to leave, though. She’s my muse — if athletes even have them. I have her, but I can’t have her. I could play before, but I can’t now.

  What’s my damn problem?

  Dennis falls onto the bench beside me. “You know what you need? A night out.”

  I glance at him. “Maybe.”

  He nudges my arm and keeps his voice down. “So, what’s up? You two have a fight or something?”

  “No.”

  “Then what happened since last week? You were playing fine before today.”

  “I’m not allowed to have an off day?” I ask.

  “Not according to this crowd, from the sounds of it.”

  I take a deep breath. “I saw it,” I say. “Hands, feet, crossed legs.”

  “Crossed legs?”

  “It has a heartbeat. I can’t get it out of my head.”

  “Oh.” Dennis slaps my shoulder. “Say no more, Daddy.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Tonight, you come out with me. Delta Xi party. We’ll talk it out there.”

  “No, Dennis.”

  “Yes, Hunter.”

  “I don’t need to talk it out — especially not at a frat party.”

  “Then we’ll drink it out at a frat party.”

  “We have a game tomorrow, too.”

  He laughs. “Dude, it’s not like you can play any worse than you are today.”

  I don’t reply. He’s not wrong.

  “You need it. Trust me. In the meantime, try to loosen up. Don’t think about it. It’s just you, the pitcher, and the ball. Nothing else matters outside of that diamond. Agreed?”

  I smile at the pep-talk. “Thanks, Coach.”

  “Get your shit together.”

  He pats my shoulder one more time before standing up and grabbing a bat off the rack.

  Get my shit together.

  Easier said than done.

  CHAPTER 26

  DAISY

  I sit in bed with my phone in hand, growing more and more nervous with each page I turn. This book reads like a damn horror story and has kept me up half the night. Soon, every part of my body will become unrecognizable. I mean, even my feet and fingers will expand? How is that fair?

  I think I actually preferred being in the dark about all of this. If I were to be hit by a train, I’d rather not watch as it speeds down the tracks in my direction, filling me with endless dread until — WHAM! No. I’d want my back to it. Quick and painless. Ignorance is bliss. I’ve got several months of Kafka-esque changes coming my way. No wonder Hunter fled for the hills.

  Okay, he went to a frat party for one night. But still.

  I know why he went out, and it has everything to do with that game today. He managed a single home run in the eighth inning, earning him the right to keep his nickname, but I can tell it wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been for him. There’s only one thing that changed between last game and today, and that’s the doctor’s appointment.

  Today was my fault. He knows it. He’s pulling away from me. I didn’t even have to have the relationship talk. I guess that’s a new record.

  As I reach for the water by my bed, there’s a soft twinge deep in my abdomen, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  I feel it — it.

  My phone slips from my hand. I hold my breath, waiting with fearful excitement to see if it happens again. I touch beneath my shirt, pressing in to try to replicate it. My skin crawls over my muscles. My insides churn. Panic sets in and a moment of clarity completely strikes me down.

  I can’t do this.

  What kind of hubris does it take to think that I can bring life into this world? Who the hell even does that? This thing is tiny right now, but soon it’ll be huge and I’ll have to give birth to it. Me? Squeeze a human being out of my little body?

  Oh, hell no.

  I hop off my bed, needing to pace around. I don’t want to learn anymore. I don’t want to feel so… helpless.

  I felt it move. I know I did.

  Another deep rumble takes over my stomach. This one is uncomfortable. Painful.

  My mouth waters. My gut throbs. Nausea takes hold of me, blurring my vision as I stumble into the hallway.

  Bathroom. Now.

  CHAPTER 27

  HUNTER

  “So, you’re Home Run Hunter.”

  I extend my hand to him, instantly recognizing him. “And you’re Junior Morgan.”

  He laughs as swaps his red cup to his other hand before shaking mine. “Strange we haven’t met until now,” he says.

  I glance around the party. The Alpha Delta Xi house is packed from first floor to third, most people decked out in blue and gold colors. Bearhawk pride. Can’t say I blame them. It’s been a hell of a few years for sports here at Chicago North. Several fan favorites are graduating this semester, so this party is their last big one until after finals.

  “I don’t hit up Greek Row much,” I say, shifting forward to stay out of the way of the stairs.

  “Ah.” Junior nods, understanding. “So, what’s she like?”

  “Who?”

  “Trisha Wells,” he says with a laugh. “The rumors are true, aren’t they? You’re the exposé?”

  “Oh.” I chuckle. “Yeah. They’re true.”

  “That’s incredible, dude.” He raises his cup to me. “Congrats.”

  “Thanks. And she’s a handful.”

  “Yeah. She looks it.”

  “But really nice,” I say, genuinely. “She’s professional. And smart. Really smart. She knows her sports.”

  Junior nods. “Respect.”

  He checks his phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot his wallpaper photo. A young woman holding a baby in her lap. I recognize the woman, of course. There isn’t a Northie in Chicago who can’t pick Alyssa Pierce out of a crowd, but my eyes lock on the baby. Small and smiling.

  “Is that your family?” I ask him.

  Junior grins. “Yeah, those are my girls,” he says as he opens his photo gallery, happy to show me more of his little one.

  “What’s her name?” I ask.

  “Courtney.”

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “And oh-so-much fun,” he says, chuckling.

  “Oh?” I ask, nervous.

  “There’s nothing harder, man.” Junior stares at his screen, his eyes light but focused. “Worth every moment, though.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?” He glances at me. “That’s what everyone says and you think it’s bullshit, but… I don’t know. It might actually be true. It’s humbling. Suddenly you’re not the most important person in the world anymore.”

  “No delusions of grandeur in your house,” I quip.

  “You try to prepare, you know?” he continues. “You read the books. You watch the videos. You take the classes. But then that first time you’re alone with them, everything stops. You look around for an adult to help you, but there’s no one there because you’re the adult. You’re the parent. You’re the one who has to pick up the baby and rock her back to sleep before she wakes up your wife — and it’s not like she has the answers because she’s winging it the same as you are.”

  I say nothing, honestly hoping he’ll say more, but he drops his phone back into his pocket instead.

  “Sorry,” he says, raising his red cup. “First time out of the house in a while. Didn’t mean to unload.”

  “No, hey,” I say. “Feel free.”

  Junior finishes his drink. “I’m gonna step out and call the babysitter,” he says. “It was nice meeting you, Home Run Hunter.”

  “You too, Junior.”

  I watch him leave, slightly dumbstruck. Parenting advice is the last thing I expected to get at a Delta Xi party, but my life is full of surprises lately.

  Dennis returns with two red cups in hand. He looks me up and down as he offers me one. “You just get hit by a bus?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

  I take the cup. “Pretty much.”

  He hums before taking a sip.

  I unlock the door slowly, careful not to make too much noise. It’s late — later than I intended to stay out. I don’t want to wake up Daisy.

  Closing the door, I notice the light in the hall gently peeking beneath the bathroom door. Or maybe she’s still up.

  A noise stops me cold a few feet inside. A sob. Soft, but painful.

  My chest tightens. I knock twice on the door. “Daisy?”

  The toilet flushes. “Yeah,” she says, her voice breaking.

  “Are you okay?”

  Silence, then a quiet sniff. “I’m fine.”

  No. No.

  She’s not fine.

  “Can I come in?” I ask, suddenly very sober.

  “I’m fine, Hunter.”

  “Daisy, please.”

  More silence. More moments pass, barely breathing.

  “Okay,” she finally says.

  I open the door to find her sitting on the floor next to the toilet with her back against the bathtub. A coat of sweat covers her brow. Her eyes are red, puffy. Wet. Her lips dry and cracked.

  “Bad night?” I whisper.

  Daisy swallows, the act itself uncomfortable. “Evening sickness, I guess,” she says. “Hit me a while ago.”

  “You’ve been sitting here alone all night?”

  She nods.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” I ask.

  She doesn’t reply.

  I rush into the kitchen, snatching a bottle of water from the refrigerator before bolting back to the bathroom. Grabbing a dry washcloth from the drawer, I run it through the cold water and wring it out before offering it to her.

  With a smile, she takes it and places it against her forehead. “Thanks,” she says.

  I kneel beside her with the bottle of water. After a minute, she reaches for it and eagerly swishes the water around her mouth before spitting it out into the toilet.

  “Do you need me to call somebody?” I ask. “Dr. Jones?”

  “No. I’m pretty sure this is normal.” She scoffs. “Normal.”

  “Rose?”

  Another quick smile. “No.”

  “Your mom?”

  She lowers the washcloth and glares.

  “Just sit down,” she says.

  I obey, finding a spot beside her on the floor. She rests her head against my shoulder. Her body heat bleeds into me like a human furnace, but she shivers periodically, too. With closed eyes, I hold her, hoping the worst of it is over for the night. Forever, preferably. But we both know the worst is still yet to come.

  “I felt it move.”

  I flinch. “Really? That’s great! Where?”

  “Inside.”

  “Well, yeah.” I chuckle. “But where? Show me.”

  She reluctantly takes my hand and guides it beneath her shirt. “Here,” she says, pressing our fingers in.

  I wait, focusing for a few seconds. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “Well, it’s not doing it now.”

  “What did it feel like?”

  “You remember that scene from Alien?”

  I laugh. “Come on.”

  “It’s not funny, Hunter. I felt it, shifting around in there.”

  “And you’re scared it’s going to come crawling out of your chest?”

  “No, my vagina — which is way worse.”

  “Okay, you already knew that before tonight, right?” I joke. “You know where babies come from?”

  “Don’t make fun of me right now, Hunter. Of course, I know. It just…” She stops as a full body sob shakes her. Tears instantly fall, running down the sticky lines on her cheeks. “It just—” She gasps, barely able to speak. “Sunk in— and I—”

  “Hey.” I shift onto my knees in front of her. “Daisy, no. Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you like that.” I smile to lighten the mood. “I’m just being a dick. I’m sorry.”

  Daisy continues sobbing, her cheeks and lips coated with tears. “I can’t do this,” she whispers.

  I pause, guilt twisting tighter in my gut, but I can tell there’s more to this than a few dumb jokes. “What?” I ask.

  She looks down. Tired. Exhausted. “I can’t do this,” she says again, sobbing.

  My heart breaks with her. “Daisy…” I touch her wet cheeks. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it.” She sinks further. “No. Look at me.” I hook a finger beneath her chin, forcing her head up as a few more tears tumble down. “Daisy, you can do this.”

  “How do you know?” she asks, her voice so quiet.

  “Because millions of women do this every year and there’s no way all of them are more hardcore than you are.”

  “Don’t joke.”