Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
JACKSON
December, Off-Season
December in San Jose feels like the world put itself on mute.
No travel days. No stadium lights. No hotel air that dries your skin out and makes your blood sugar act like it’s auditioning for a horror movie.
Just cold mornings, gray skies, and the kind of quiet that makes you notice everything you usually drown out with noise.
Including the fact that my husband is nesting like a man possessed.
This house smells like lemon cleaner and pine candles and whatever Andres decided is the only acceptable brand of cleaning wipes.
He’s been moving through Kai and Isla’s place like a one-man renovation show for the last hour, sleeves pushed up, hair a little wild, and jaw set like he’s preparing for war.
The war is newborn life.
Rowan Vaughn.
Our goddaughter.
They’re coming home from the hospital today and Kai, the dramatic bastard that he is, wants everything perfect. Which means Andres wants everything perfect.
So I’m currently standing in the middle of Kai and Isla’s kitchen, holding a tiny screwdriver and wondering how the hell I became the kind of person who knows what a cabinet lock is.
Andres squints at the baby gate like it personally offended him.
“Why does it not click?” he mutters.
I lean against the counter, watching him with my arms crossed. “Because you’re trying to fight it instead of reading the instructions.”
“I read the instructions.”
“You skimmed the instructions,” I correct.
He exhales through his nose and then quietly says, “Cállate.”
“Make me.”
Andres's eyes flick up, dark and warm, and my stomach flips even though we’re surrounded by baby-proofing supplies and a stack of tiny onesies Isla folded with terrifying precision. He steps closer, just enough to crowd me into the counter.
“Don’t start with me,” he murmurs.
“I’m not,” I whisper back, face heating.
Andres leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth, quick and teasing. “Good, because I would hate for our friends to come back to me wrecking that pretty little ass of yours over their island.”
I roll my eyes, but my body melts anyway because apparently I’m weak to absolute filth in domestic settings. The front door unlocks and swings open before Andres can say something that gets us kicked out. Gael walks in first, arms full of foil trays like he’s delivering offerings to a god.
Adriana follows behind him with bags and containers stacked in her arms, face flushed from the cold, eyes bright. The smell hits immediately, warm and rich, like home and comfort.
“We brought food,” Adriana says.
Andres's face shifts into pure relief. “Thank God.”
Adriana laughs. “This is all allergy-free for Isla and Kai,” she says, already moving toward the kitchen.
Gael sets the trays down and points at me. “And I made special lower-carb stuff for you, Jack. Protein-heavy. Easy to dose for—no surprise spikes.”
My throat tightens a little. It shouldn’t, because it’s just food.
But it’s also love, in the language my body understands.
“Thanks,” I mutter, my voice rougher than I mean it.
Gael shrugs like it’s nothing. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t cry about it.”
I flip him off. “Shut up.”
Andres's hand finds my lower back, warm and grounding.
“Eat when it’s time,” he murmurs.
I sigh. “Yes, sir.”
Andres's mouth twitches.
Adriana shakes her head at us, amused. “You two are disgusting.”
“We’re married,” I remind her. “We’re allowed to be.”
“That makes it worse,” she replies.
Gael laughs, kissing Adriana’s forehead before he starts unloading containers like he’s preparing for a holiday feast. There’s a tray of grilled chicken with citrus and herbs.
A bowl of roasted vegetables. Something that smells like caldo but lighter.
A container labeled in Gael’s handwriting: JACK LOW-CARB.
I stare at it like it’s a sacred artifact.
Andres sees the label and looks at Gael like he could cry too.
“Gracias,” Andres says quietly.
Gael nods once, serious for a split second. “Siempre.”
My chest aches. The apartment feels warmer now. Full. Like we’re building something bigger than ourselves in this borrowed space.
Andres glances at the clock. “They’ll be here soon,” he says, voice tight.
Gael smirks. “Kai is going to cry.”
Andres scoffs. “Kai cries at commercials now… you’d think he was the one who was pregnant.”
“He cried when Isla ordered decaf,” Adriana adds.
I snort.
Andres tries not to smile. Fails.
Then the door opens again, and the air changes.
Kai walks in first, carrying the car seat like it contains the crown jewels. His face is pale with exhaustion and joy and terror, eyes glassy, mouth set like he’s holding himself together with willpower.
Behind him, Isla steps in slowly and carefully, wrapped in a cozy sweater and a beanie, looking smaller than she did a month ago but somehow more powerful. Like motherhood turned her into something holy and dangerous.
Her gaze travels across the room to the cleaned counter. From the baby gate and neatly stacked diapers to the food laid out on the table. She blinks fast, and I know she’s trying not to cry.
Kai’s voice breaks first, of course.
“You did all this?” he demands, like he’s offended by kindness.
Andres nods once. “Yeah.”
Isla’s eyes shimmer. “Thank you,” she whispers.
Adriana crosses the room and hugs her carefully. Gael kisses Isla’s temple like she’s his sister too, because she is.
Kai sets the car seat down on the coffee table like it’s the safest place in the universe. Rowan is asleep inside, tiny face barely visible under the blanket. He stares at her like she’s a miracle he doesn’t deserve.
“She’s here,” he murmurs. “She’s… she’s actually here.”
Isla laughs softly, exhausted. “Yeah, babe. That’s what happens when you have a baby.”
Kai glares at her like she’s being sarcastic on purpose. “Don’t be mean to me right now.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m tired and starving.”
Andres snorts quietly.
Kai shoots him a look. “Don’t start.”
Gael mutters, “God help all of us.”
Adriana laughs, then points at the food. “Okay. Isla, sit. Kai, eat. Everyone eat.”
Kai doesn’t move because he’s still staring at Rowan.
Isla touches his arm. “Baby?”
Kai blinks like he’s coming back from another dimension. “Yeah.”
“Let them hold her,” Isla says softly, like she already knows what he’s about to do. “She’s not going to disappear.”
Kai’s jaw clenches. “I know that.”
Isla raises a brow and Kai exhales, defeated, and looks at me.
“Jack,” he says, voice thick. “You hold her.”
Me?
My stomach flips.
“Me?” I repeat, like I’m not sure I heard right.
Kai nods once, seriously. “Yeah. You. She’s your goddaughter.”
And suddenly the room goes quiet in that gentle way. Like everyone is holding their breath for me. I step closer slowly, hands out like I’m approaching something wild. Kai lifts Rowan out of the seat with terrifying care and places her in my arms like he’s trusting me with his entire soul.
Rowan is so small it doesn’t make sense.
Her cheeks are round, her lips soft, her tiny fingers curled into fists like she’s already ready to fight the world. I stare down at her and my chest does something I never thought possible. There’s this primal instinct that fills my chest, and as I sniff her tiny head, I know I’m done for.
I need this.
I want this in my future with Andres.
“She’s so tiny,” I whisper, and Andres steps close beside me, shoulder brushing mine. His gaze is on Rowan, but I can feel him watching me too, like he’s reading my face. Rowan shifts in my arms and makes a tiny sound, a newborn squeak, and my heart basically stops.
I look up at Andres, overwhelmed by all the feelings.
“Do you want one of these?” I murmur, my voice barely there. “"You know, someday?”
Andres’s expression softens instantly, like something in him melts and he doesn’t answer right away.
Instead, in a voice so quiet, so reverent, like he knows this is a sacred question, he asks me, “Do you, mi sol?” he whispers. “Do you want to be a dad someday?”
My throat tightens and Rowan’s warm weight in my arms feels like a future I never let myself imagine too clearly.
“Yeah,” I admit, voice shaking. “I do.”
Andres’s eyes glisten. He leans in, mouth brushing my temple, and his voice is so soft it almost gets swallowed by the ocean of emotion in the room.
“I want nothing more than to raise a bunch of kids with you,” he says.
I blink hard, thinking it will fight back the tears. It doesn’t.
When I look down at Rowan again, she yawns, her tiny mouth opening, her little tongue peeking out like she’s already got opinions. A laugh catches in my throat, wet and startled.
“Careful,” Kai says, watching like a hawk. “Support her head.”
“I am supporting her head,” I snap automatically.
“You better be.”
Isla swats Kai’s arm. “Stop hovering. Eat your food.”
Kai points at Rowan. “That’s my daughter.”
She points at me. “He’s holding her like she’s made of glass and love. Relax.”
“You’re doing good, Jack.” Adriana smiles at me, eyes soft.
Gael nods. “Yeah, look at you, carnal. A fucking natural.”
“I’m sweating,” I say nervously.
Rowan stirs again, then settles, cheek pressing against my forearm. And something in me quiets. There’s no stadium noise, no cameras, and no blood sugar alarms. Just a tiny life asleep in my arms and the man I love standing close enough to keep me steady.
The world is on mute.
The future doesn’t feel like something I have to outrun anymore; it feels like something I’m allowed to build.
With him.
With a family, someday.
I look up at Andres again, my voice low, private even in a room full of people.
“Someday,” I whisper.
Andres meets my gaze, eyes warm and certain.
“You tell me when, and we’ll make it happen, mi sol.”