Chapter 13 Brooks
Brooks
It was a wonder that there weren’t more pregnant bodybuilders.
Between the gear, the gadgets, and the random “must-haves” that promised to make life easier while simultaneously making your load heavier, it was like training for a fucking strongman competition.
Without the glory of a medal, no less.
Mothers didn’t get half the trophies, pay raises, or standing ovations they deserved—hell, they were lucky if anyone even noticed they were carrying the whole damn team on their backs.
The package in my arms was big enough to block half my view of the cobblestone path leading up to Dani’s townhouse, but that didn’t slow me down.
I had scored the holy grail of maternity gear: a U-shaped pillow the size of a small canoe, with enough fluff to swallow her whole.
According to the Baby Bumps and Lumps subreddit, which, as of late, had become my how-to guide, it was the pregnancy pillow of all pregnancy pillows, and I could believe it.
I had gone to four different stores to find the damn thing.
Hell, I had nearly bought one for myself. The damn thing had nearly swallowed me whole when I’d tested it out at the store. It was like napping inside a cloud. If the new maternity pajamas I’d nabbed for her felt half as soft, I might need a set of those, too.
Dani had recently mentioned in passing that her skin had been extra sensitive lately, so I’d gone down a three-hour internet rabbit hole until I’d found the kind every mom-to-be blog swore by.
Some might’ve called it overkill, but I called it giving a damn.
I climbed the front steps to her and Pink’s townhouse, careful not to scuff the box against the railing, and reached for the doorbell.
“You just missed her,” a soft voice muttered from behind me.
I turned to find a twenty-something woman standing in the narrow strip of grass between the side-by-side townhouses. Her chocolate-brown hair had been pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder that fell nearly to her waist.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Dani. She left about twenty minutes ago for her doctor’s appointment,” she said flatly, gaze already drifting back to the book in her hands.
What the actual fuck?
A sharp pang landed in my chest, unexpected and unwelcome. “She didn’t tell me she had one today.”
The brunette shrugged. “Sorry.”
I just stood there for a second, my brain trying to process the onslaught of emotions—fear, anger, hurt.
I thought we were past this. I thought we had finally found our footing.
We had texted nearly every day for weeks now, and not just about her cravings or potential baby names—which, surprisingly, we mostly agreed on—but about random, normal couple shit.
Like we were a random, normal couple rather than . . . whatever we were.
We had even shared a meal together a few times when our schedules had aligned.
Just last night, she had invited me in for dinner when I’d dropped off some of the parenting books I had finished reading.
One minute, we’d been swapping books, and the next we’d been eating meatless chili on her couch while watching game highlights.
It wasn’t perfect, but it had felt like progress. So, what the hell had changed between then and now? Why was she pushing me away again?
It didn’t make sense.
Hell, it didn’t even sit right.
I’d bent over backwards this past month, partly because I’d wanted to, but mostly because I couldn’t stand the idea of her thinking she had to go through any of this alone.
And sure, maybe I overdid it sometimes with the questions or the care packages, but damn it, I thought we were over this stage where she shut me out.
Now, it just felt like I’d been benched without warning.
“Do you know what time her appointment is?” I asked the woman with the book, trying to keep my voice casual.
She nodded. “In ten minutes. Dr. Kong’s office.”
The knot in my chest pulled tighter. If I left now, there was still a chance I could catch her while she was still sitting in the waiting room, flipping through outdated parenting magazines.
Calls could be dodged. Texts could be ignored. But a face-to-face confrontation in the gynecologist’s office? That would be harder to walk away from. If she thought I was just going to shrug this off and let her keep me in the dark, she was wrong.
“Thank you—”
“Bella. Jared’s sister.”
“Jared Pink?”
Bella rolled her eyes. “The man, the myth, the asshole.”
I liked her better than her brother already.
“I appreciate your help.”
I shifted the package under one arm and took off for my truck without waiting for her response. One thing was for sure: I was going to make it to that appointment whether she wanted me there or not.
And then, we were going to have a conversation about what she and this baby meant to me—one she couldn’t sidestep, one that needed to happen before this turned into a pattern.
The receptionist barely got out a, “Room seven—” before I was halfway down the hall, scanning the frosted-glass placards until I saw her name.
I didn’t bother knocking.
The door swung open to reveal Dani on the exam table, swaddled in one of those flimsy paper gowns that did absolutely nothing to hide how vulnerable she looked.
Her hair was pulled into two messy knots and her bare legs—minus the purple-and-black striped skeleton socks that should not have been a turn-on—dangled off the edge.
Her eyes went wide. “Brooks, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” I shut the door behind me, tempering my voice but not my irritation. “How about why didn’t you tell me about your appointment?”
She swallowed audibly. “I promise, it wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
“I was— I mean—” She glanced toward the counter where a tray of metal instruments had been laid out like torture devices. “This wasn’t supposed to happen today.”
I took a step closer. “The appointment?”
She nodded, chewing her lip. “The anatomy scan was scheduled for next week, but last night I noticed some . . . bleeding.” Her gaze flicked up to mine, quick and careful. “I called the doctor’s office this morning, and they told me to come in. Just to be safe.”
A cold weight slid down my spine.
That word—bleeding—hit me square in the chest, knocking the wind out of whatever argument I had built during the car ride over.
A minute ago, I’d been pissed about being left out.
Now my gut was twisting for an entirely different reason, every worst-case scenario I’d ever heard of clawing its way to the front of my brain.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
Her mouth opened, then closed again. “I didn’t want to worry you if it was nothing.”
I took a deep, cleansing breath, attempting to channel my inner yogi .
. . even though I had only taken a few classes with some of my players.
She still didn’t get it. She still didn’t understand that this wasn’t just about the baby for me—it was about her, too.
That every part of this—every part of her—mattered to me more than she seemed to realize.
Enough was enough. It was time I made myself clear.
I lowered myself until we were nearly eye to eye. “Oh, kitten,” I said quietly, the word heavier than usual. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
Confusion flickered through her emerald eyes, but there was something else there, too—want. She nearly jumped up from the table when my hand skittered across her middle.
“This, us, is not nothing. Every second, every heartbeat, every curveball this pregnancy throws at us, I want to know. I need to know. And I’m not letting you go—not now, not ever.
This isn’t just about the baby, Dani.” My voice dropped, rough with conviction.
“I’m in this for as long as it takes. And please, believe me when I say that I’m prepared to play the fucking long game if I have to. ”
She blinked rapidly. Before she could respond, the door swung open again and, presumably, Dr. Kong stepped inside. “Oh! You must be Dad.”
“Brooks,” I said, dwarfing her palm in mine. “Great to meet you.”
“Dr. Emilia Kong.”
She was a curvy woman, with warm amber-brown skin and sharp, blunt bangs that skimmed her eyebrows in a perfectly straight line.
She couldn’t have been more than thirty—hell, she looked barely old enough to rent a car—but the crisp precision in her voice and the confident set of her shoulders left no doubt she knew exactly what she was doing.
A white coat hung open over a Barbie-pink blouse, the stethoscope around her neck catching the overhead light.
“How are we doing today? I heard you were experiencing some bleeding.”
Dani nodded silently. Her fingers twitched against the edge of the paper sheet, shoulders drawn tight like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. I could see the hesitation, the weight of everything pressing in.
I reached for her hand, lacing my fingers through hers in a quiet promise. “Is that something we should be concerned about, Dr. Kong?”
“Not at all.” She flipped open the chart in her hands.
“Your blood pressure is solid, your iron levels are well within range, and your blood count looks great. Weight gain is exactly where we want it for this stage—right in the healthy zone.” She glanced at Dani with a reassuring smile.
“From what I’m seeing here, there’s nothing alarming.
The spotting could be from something as simple as increased blood flow or activity. ”
Her hand relaxed in my grip.
“Now, I know we had your anatomy scan on the calendar for next week,” Dr. Kong said, rolling her stool toward the machine in the corner, “but since you’re already here, would you like to take a look?”
“Please,” I answered without hesitation.
At the same time, Dani said, “Yes.”
Dr. Kong smiled at our chorus of agreement. “All right then. Let’s get you set up.” She snapped on a pair of gloves and wheeled the ultrasound cart closer. “Have you decided if you want to know the sex or not?”