The Goal (Off-Campus #4)(69)

“Okay.”

“Don’t get too excited about all of this. You’ll wake up the baby,” I say dryly.

She flashes a pained smile. “That’s weird, right? Saying that we’re having a baby?”

“There are weirder things. Simmsy, our old goalie, used to eat circus peanuts before each game. That’s pretty strange. A woman having a baby seems to fall into the fairly ordinary category.”

Her ears pinken. “I mean, us.” She wiggles her index finger between us. “Us having a baby is weird.”

“Nope. Don’t think that’s weird either. You’re young—and super fertile, apparently—and I can’t keep my hands off of you.” I lean down and plant a hard kiss on her surprised mouth. “Go home and take a nap or something. Text me when you know when the next appointment is. I’ll see you later.”

And then I take off before she has the opportunity to argue with me. Weird? It’s not weird. It’s terrifying and awesome at the same time, but it’s not weird.

When I get home, the house is empty, which is a good thing. If my roommates were around, I might end up spilling the beans, and I’ve got to respect Sabrina’s wishes. We’re a team now, whether she likes it or not. She’s scared out of her mind, filled with guilt, and overwhelmed with what’s going to happen next. I figure at this point all I can do is be there for her.

When you have a new teammate, they don’t always trust you right away. They’ll play puck hog because that’s the way they’re used to scoring, to achieving success. Raising a kid is a team sport. Sabrina needs to learn to trust me.

But while I won’t tell my roommates until she’s ready, there is someone who needs to know.

So I head upstairs, sit on the edge of my bed, and text my mom.

Me: Got a minute?

Her: In 20, baby! Finishing a color for Mrs. Nelson.

I spend the next twenty minutes googling shit about babies. I hadn’t allowed myself to do that before. I didn’t know if Sabrina was going to keep the baby, and if she’d decided to go through with the abortion, I didn’t want to become attached and then be heartbroken.

Now, I’m free to throw myself into fatherhood. Unlike Sabrina, I’m not feeling as terrified about it anymore. I’ve always envisioned myself having a family. Granted, I didn’t think it was going to happen for a while, at least not until I was done with college, had a good business, and was making decent coin. But life is always changing and you just have to adapt.

I do some sloppy math in the margin of my business property notes about whether I can buy a home in Boston and quickly realize that I can’t afford to buy a business and a house on the funds my dad left me. Housing is ridiculously expensive in Boston. I guess I’ll have to rent for a while.

Okay. So. I’m going to need a place to live, a job, and I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my fucking life beyond college. I’ve been half-assing the business search because there wasn’t any urgency, but with a kid on the way and Sabrina living in the shithole she’s currently in, I need to get all my ducks in order.

I’m ordering a couple of books on Amazon about pregnancy and parenting when my mother calls.

“Sweetheart! How is everything going? Only a couple more months and you’ll be back home!” she sings into my ear.

My stomach plummets. If there’s one person I hate disappointing, it’s my mom, and me not coming back to Texas is going to crush her. But if I’m honest, I’ve been on the fence about Texas for a while now. In some ways, the baby is saving me from that.

I make a mental note to tell Sabrina this, because I know, in her head, she’s thinking she’s ruined my life.

“Actually, about that. My…” I hesitate, because I don’t know what we are after our little talk this morning. “Girlfriend,” I finish, for lack of a better term. Our relationship is too complicated to go into depth with Mom right now. Besides, I can’t poison that particular well, because Mom’s already going to be upset. “Remember I told you at Christmas I met a girl?”

“Yes…” She sounds cautious.

I rip the bandage off. “She’s pregnant.”

“Is the baby yours?” Mom asks immediately. There’s a note of hope in her voice, which I quickly squash.

“Yeah, Mom, that’s why I’m calling you.”

There’s a long, long moment of silence. So long that I almost wonder if she’s hung up on me.

Finally, she says, “Is she keeping it?”

“Yes. She’s like sixteen weeks along.” I’ve already done the math. The date of conception is probably the first time we had sex, when I was in such a hurry to be inside her tight pussy that I forgot about the condom.

Sabrina James makes me lose my mind, in more ways than one.

“Sixteen weeks!” Mom yelps. “Did you know at Christmas and didn’t say anything?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t find out until later.”

“Oh, John. What are you going to do?”

I let out a slow, steady breath. “Whatever it takes.”





24




Sabrina


Three Weeks Later

When I arrive at Della’s, the booth in the corner is empty. That’s a good sign. I tug the side of my coat over my belly. It’s getting too warm for my long jacket, but I’m starting to show. Thank goodness for yoga pants. I don’t know how much longer I’ll get away with wearing regular clothes.