Chapter 16 Dani #2
My heart squeezed, sharp and aching. The ache intensified when he reached forward, laying a palm flat on my stomach.
“The woman I fell for was already whole before this baby. I wanted you long before I knew you were pregnant, Dani.”
I chewed on my lower lip. “But what if she’s the only reason you’re saying any of this?”
He reached for my hand and laced our fingers together. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, slow and deliberate, but then, he went quiet. Long enough that the back of my neck prickled.
“What?” I asked softly, trying to read his face. His jaw was tight, his mouth pressed flat like he was holding something back.
I couldn’t believe it. For the first time since we’d met, Brooks Bailey-Ward was nervous. And that made me feel even more uneasy.
“Just tell me, please. I can take it.”
His grip on my hand tightened, enough to ground me. He shook his head, finally letting out a breath. “Blue donuts.”
I blinked. Of all the things. Was he speaking in code?
“Huh?”
He leaned back against the headboard beside me, his mouth twitching into the faintest grin.
“The first day you came into the training facility. It was a Tuesday, and you were sitting cross-legged on the bleachers, waiting for me to finish grilling my pitching staff. And all I could see were your bright blue socks with little donuts all over them.”
I let out a startled laugh. “You remember my socks?”
“Kitten, I couldn’t stop looking at your damn socks. I thought, who is this woman sitting here with hair black as midnight and socks that look like a Saturday morning cartoon?” His grin widened, softening his whole face. “You made me curious before you ever opened your mouth.”
My lips parted, but I had no idea what to say. That seemed to be happening more and more lately. Only around Brooks, though.
He squeezed my hand again. “So don’t tell me this is only about the baby. She might be a part of it, but those ridiculous blue donuts? They had me long before you ever let me inside you. You’re the one I want, Dani.”
The lump in my throat nearly broke me. “I think you mean Sandy.”
His brows furrowed. “Sandy who?”
“You know, the song from Grease?” I sang a few bars for him—badly, I might add.
“I’ve never seen it.”
“You’ve never seen Grease?” I asked with disbelief. “Well, that decides it. Now, we definitely can’t be together.”
A slow smile spread across his face, and he reached out to run a fingertip along my jaw. I turned my head, kissing the pad of his finger, and he sucked in a breath.
God, I was a tease. I couldn’t help myself, though. Everything about this felt so good, so right.
“We can take it slow,” he said. “You keep being you, and I’ll keep proving I’m not going anywhere.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is.” His hand squeezed mine, firm and grounding. “Trust me.”
I stared at our joined hands, his big palm engulfing mine, the glitter polish from earlier still faintly shimmering under the lamplight. The tension racking my body loosened just a fraction, enough to let hope in.
“I don’t want to turn into my mom, Brooks.” The words tore out of me before I could second-guess them. “What if one day, our daughter looks at me and feels the same emptiness I did?”
Brooks was quiet for a moment. His throat bobbed. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when he spoke, his voice was raw.
“I think about my dad every damn day,” he said. “He played ball his whole life, and he was good—great, even. But he was never home. The game came first, always. And you know what? I swore to myself when I went pro that if I ever had a family, I wouldn’t do that to them.”
I blinked at him, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice. “So, we’re both . . . scared of being our parents.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, his mouth curving with something that wasn’t quite a smile. “But that doesn’t mean we will be. You and me, kitten, we get to decide what kind of parents we want to be, what kind of people. Together.”
The word together sank into me like sunlight, chasing away shadows I hadn’t realized were still clinging. I swallowed hard, my throat thick, but nodded. “You really believe we can break the cycle?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “We already are.”
Something heavy unknotted inside me, loosening a little more with every word.
His thumb brushed over my knuckles, slow and steady, before he shifted closer and rested our linked palms over the gentle swell of my stomach.
Not grabbing, not claiming—just holding, anchoring both of us to the promise we’d made.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. It wasn’t heavy, though—it was grounding. His hand on my belly, mine laced through his, both of us breathing in sync like we’d stumbled onto something bigger than ourselves.
Then, Brooks’s mouth tilted into a crooked grin, mischief sparking in his eyes. “So, I know I said we should take things slow, but . . . does that mean you can’t spend the night again?”
I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “I can stay.”
The relief that spread across his face made my heart stutter. He leaned closer, lips brushing my ear as his voice dropped low, hungry. “I like it when you call me coach.”
A shiver danced down my spine. I smirked, tilting my head just enough to catch his gaze. “Good, because I was thinking that maybe tomorrow, you might let me . . . play with your balls.”
His laugh vibrated against my skin, but when he lifted his head, his eyes were molten, locked on mine like I’d just handed him the win of his life.
“But tonight,” I said softly, steadying myself against the weight of his gaze, “I just want to cuddle.”
His brows lifted, surprise flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t let go of me. “Just cuddling?”
I nodded, feeling my throat tighten. We had gone about this thing ass backwards—sometimes literally—from the very beginning.
Every time we’d collided, it had been fire first, our bodies running miles ahead of the rest of us.
Sex had been our language, our escape, the one way we knew how to reach each other when everything else felt too overwhelming to name.
But sitting here with him, my pulse thrumming in every place his hand touched me, I realized that if we wanted this to last—if we wanted a shot at forever—we couldn’t just keep burning.
We needed something steadier, softer. The kind of foundation that came from choosing each other . . . even when our clothes stayed on.
He didn’t argue, didn’t push, just shifted closer until his shoulder pressed against mine. “If cuddling is what you want,” he said quietly, “then cuddling’s what you’ll get.”
Finally, I could breathe again.
“And you should know that I’m one hell of a cuddler, kitten.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Is that right?”
His arm slid around my shoulders, tugging me against him until I was curled in his warmth. “Mm-hmm,” he murmured into my hair. “I’ve got all the stamina in the world where you’re concerned, even when it comes to cuddling.”
I hummed against his skin. “Stamina, huh? Bold claim from someone born before CD-ROMs.”
“Okay, now you’re going to get it.”
His chuckle rumbled against me as he pressed a slow kiss to my temple, then another to my lips, gentle and unhurried.
I melted into him, breathing in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, our laughter fading into quiet.
Wrapped up in his warmth, I let my eyes drift shut, content to fall asleep with his arms around me.
And for once, I was happy to eat my words. Brooks was indeed a world-class cuddler.