Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(51)

Before I can answer, she says, “It’s okay if this is about Ana.”

I smirk. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me.”

I recall a conversation I overheard in the dressing room a few weeks ago.

“You don’t think there’s anything going on between Grant and Ana, do you?”

“God, no. He would literally break her.”

It was a funny observation—a six-foot-four dude with a petite girl like Ana. I can see how that would make people do a double-take. But no, I hadn’t broken her. If anything, she’d broken me, but it’s not like I could say that without inviting some serious questions. Questions I don’t have the answers to. But I’m hoping to get some of those questions answered today.

With a deep inhale, I try to organize my thoughts. I’ve felt so scattered lately, so raw and helpless. I’m in way the fuck over my head with Ana and this pregnancy, and I don’t like feeling so out of control.

“I just thought since you’d been through this recently, maybe you could tell me some things that might help. Like when she goes into labor . . .”

Becca nods. “Well, labor can be slow, or it can be fast. Everyone’s different. But just be prepared, it can take a day, or even two. If she’s comfortable with it, you could help out with back rubs or massaging her feet. Or even just being her advocate with the nurses.”

I’m not even sure that Ana will want me in the hospital room, but I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees. “Like how?”

“Well, like for instance, Owen was constantly asking the nurses questions, like when I needed more pain meds, or if I could have something to eat. It was nice not having to be the one to think about those things.”

“Makes sense. What about delivery? She’ll be in a lot of pain, right?”

Becca shifts, her mouth softening as she gazes down at Bishop for a second. “That depends. Do you know if she’s planning to get an epidural?”

“I’m not sure.”

Becca nods thoughtfully. “Natural childbirth is incredibly painful, but rewarding, from what I hear. I can only speak from my experience.”

“Of course. So, what was it like?”

She touches Bishop’s cheek with her index finger, lightly stroking it. “It wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.”

I nod. “Okay. That’s promising.”

She glances over at me. “This is going to sound stupid . . .”

“Becca, it’s not. I’m here pumping you for information about a woman I’m not even sure I’m dating.”

“Stop.” She frowns at me. “I know you’re important to Ana.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Well, I would.” She gives me a pointed look. “But when she loses her mucus plug . . .”

My eyes widen. “Her what? Like a plug that pops out?”

She chuckles at my response. “It’s not like a champagne cork, Grant. You know what? Never mind. It’s just . . . once I lost mine, my labor came on quickly, but my experience was just that—my experience. So, why don’t you just ask me what you came here to ask me?”

“I don’t even know, to be honest. I just feel so useless all the time. What can I do? How can I be helpful to her?”

Becca lets out a little sigh and lifts Bishop, moving him to her other breast—and, whoa, this time I do get an eyeful, a flash of engorged boob and a swollen pink areola before quickly slamming my eyes shut.

Shit. This is weird.

“Grab me that burp cloth, would you?”

“Uh, sure.” Rising to my feet, I grab the white cotton cloth printed with little green cacti and hand it to my teammate’s wife while trying to wipe the image of her tit from my memory.

Once the baby is settled on the other side and sucking away happily again, Becca meets my eyes. “Well, if she wants space, you have to give her space. But you can let her know that you’re there if she needs help.”

She’s right. I guess that’s all I can do. I’ve respected Ana’s desire to prove her independence, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure she knows my stance on things. I want to be by her side, even if it means laying my feelings bare. Even if it means possibly getting rejected again.

“You two all right in here?” Owen sticks his head through the open doorway and peeks inside.

“All good,” I say.

“Bishop’s done. Will you burp him?” Becca asks.

“Of course.” Owen crosses the room in a few easy strides and lifts the baby from his wife’s embrace.

She secures her top while I look down at my feet. When I look back up, Owen’s got his miniature son perched high on his shoulder and is patting his back with gentle strokes. It’s a sight I never thought I’d see—one of my teammates with a baby, those big, calloused hands being so tender. For a few seconds, I’m stunned speechless.

With a soft grunt, the baby lets out a wet-sounding burp. And then a fart.

We all laugh.

“He’s definitely your son,” Becca says lovingly, meeting Owen’s eyes.

Owen only chuckles and coos some nonsense sounds to his son.

A hard knot pushes its way up my throat. I wasn’t sure what to expect coming here today. They don’t look frazzled or sleep-deprived like I might have thought. They look happy. Really happy.