Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(63)

Oh my God . . . Hunter.

“Would you take her?”

“Sure.” Grant lifts her small frame from my arms, propping her up against his broad shoulder to begin burping her. “All right, baby girl . . .”

While Grant makes a slow, steady circle around the room with Hunter, I sit with this information. The man I spent years of my life loving, trying to please . . . is gone. Forever.

By the time Grant puts Hunter down to rest, I’m full-on ugly sobbing, grief heaving through my body in sudden, violent bursts. He wraps me in his arms, locking me against him while I struggle to stay grounded.

“I’m— I’m sorry!” I gasp between wails.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my hairline.

“I . . . I just— I feel awful.”

“I know, I know.”

Sobbing, I choke out, “No, you don’t!” How could he? How could he possibly know what this feels like?

“Tell me.”

“I don’t want to say it.” I sniff, trying to pull myself together.

Grant holds me, not pushing me, but not letting it lie either. I need to say it . . . I know I do. I need to get this terrible thing off of my chest. And he knows it too.

“I’m relieved,” I whisper, and the weight of a thousand bricks falls off of my shoulders. Despite the tragedy, despite the guilt—I feel so much lighter.

“It’s okay, Ana. Whatever you’re feeling, you can tell me,” he murmurs, still holding me.

I burrow my face into his chest, glad I don’t have to meet his eyes when I say this next part.

“You should know. You should know that . . . I think he’s the father. I wish it weren’t true. I wish it so much. But it’s—the calendar.” When I choke on the last words, he rubs my back in slow, firm circles, urging me to breathe. “The timing. It’s gotta be him. He’s her father.”

“Ana,” Grant murmurs, lifting my chin, and I meet his eyes, barely visible through the tears. “I’m her father. I don’t care about biology. I don’t care about timing. How could I? I was adopted, right?”

I nod, a hiccup escaping my lips.

“See? None of that matters. I love her. I’ll always love her,” he whispers against my cheek, wiping my tears away with a sweet kiss. “Just as much as I love her mother.”

I lift my face from his T-shirt and meet his eyes.

We’ve spent weeks working alongside each other, weeks sleeping in the same bed and raising a baby together, doing all the things necessary to run a household, but we haven’t talked about us. We haven’t made love or kissed, or approached the subject of us as a couple.

Grant has comforted me and held me, and changed diapers and cooked and done a million other things, but I didn’t know where we stood. I spent practically my whole pregnancy pushing him away, keeping him in a box. I told him I needed a friend, and that was true. But now, I realize, I’m ready for more.

“Grant, I . . .” I pause and lick my lips.

“I love you, Ana.”

It’s the first time he’s said those words to me, and just like that, the walls I spent so long building to protect myself from the hurt that Jason inflicted crumble down.

With a shaky inhale, I lean close and press my lips to Grant’s. “I love you too. So much. I’m sorry I’ve been so stupid, sorry that I spent so much time pushing you away.”

He takes my face in his big hands, lifting my mouth to his. “Don’t be sorry. You needed time.”

I nod. “Kiss me.”

And he does, and it’s the perfect kiss—slow and sweet and tender. But it’s over long before I’m ready for it to be.

When Grant pulls away, there’s a serious expression in his eyes.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Are you okay?”

With an inhale, I nod. The news about Jason is devastating, and I feel for his family, but the truth is, I am okay. This entire past year has proven to me how strong I am.

“We need to talk about us,” Grant says softly.

I nod. He’s right. It’s way overdue.

“I’ll start,” he says. “I’d like to tell you that I’m okay with moving slow, that you can take all the time you need, and we can move at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. But none of that would be true.”

I swallow. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to wait, Ana. I want it all. Us living together as a couple. As a family. I love you, both of you, so fucking much. This is all I’ve ever wanted. And so I hope you don’t hate me for pushing, but I gave you space, waited months for you to be ready, and now that we’re doing this—I can’t wait anymore. You’re mine now, sweetheart. Both of you.”

“Yes,” I manage to say, my voice brimming with emotion.

After that, he just holds me and lets me grieve the loss of Jason in my own way. And when we go to bed that night, we’re wrapped up tight in each other’s arms. It’s the best feeling in the world.

? ? ?

We don’t go to Jason’s funeral.

Grant is thoughtful enough to send flowers to the funeral home in time for the service, and a couple of his teammates travel to the funeral. But with a newborn and my own mental health as our priorities, it’s better for our little family to stay home.