Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Leif
The Goal that Matters
When I make it downstairs, Papa is in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. It smells like cinnamon and nostalgia—like childhood mornings when I’d wake up to the sound of his voice and the quiet hum of my dads talking over coffee.
He turns around when he hears me, his grin easy, familiar. “I thought I heard someone coming in, but I was on a call. Are you alone?”
I shake my head, stretching my neck as I lean against the counter. “Hailey’s upstairs, taking a nap.”
His brows lift slightly, and I swear I see the calculation behind his eyes before he asks, “How’s she feeling?”
“She’s almost fourteen weeks along and—” I knock on the wooden counter before finishing. “She stopped puking a couple of days ago. That’s good, right?”
Papa nods like that makes sense, but I’m not convinced we’re in the clear. Maybe it’s just a break and tomorrow she’ll begin to throw up everywhere like the exorcist. Then again, this is Hailey. The woman who doesn’t always read the instructions but still somehow follows them like her life depends on it. If the book says morning sickness stops at twelve weeks, she clocks out around the same time. If the book says she’ll develop a high libido . . . well.
Thank fuck she does. Because I’m having way too much fun providing her with all she wants and needs.
Even with that control and dominance she wants from a man. She can say she likes a man who takes charge. Though that’s just an illusion. At the end of the day, I’m just a man doing exactly what she tells me—learning her body like a playbook, following every little sigh, every arch of her back, every filthy, perfect moan.
Her rules, my execution. And we both win.
Papa raises a brow. “So, why are you here? Not that I’m complaining.”
I exhale, rubbing a hand over my jaw. He already knows about the baby. Knows it’s not mine. That was never a question. But this—bringing her home—that’s something else.
I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension that’s been there since I packed her things and told her we were coming here. “I needed to get her away from everything for a bit. Show her that she’s a Crawford.”
His eyes soften, but there’s no hesitation. “She’s always been a part of us. More now that you two . . . are you together?”
I shake my head before he can finish. “I don’t know, alright? We’re kind of dating, and I think I’m in, but I don’t know if she loves me the way I love her. If she’ll ever love me like that.”
Papa watches me for a beat, then takes a sip of coffee. “In my opinion, she’s just like you—deeply in love. Just has been denying it.”
I nod, rubbing my thumb over my watch, unsure on what to answer. “She’s letting me in.” Slowly. Carefully. Like she’s still waiting for the moment I walk away.
I press my lips together. “And I don’t want to fuck it up.”
His mouth twitches. “Well, that’s a first.”
I glare, but he just chuckles, setting his mug down before meeting my gaze. “Look, Leif. You’ve never been one to do things halfway. When you decide something—” He shrugs. “That’s it. No second-guessing. No half-measures. This is the final faceoff.”
I breathe out, gripping the edge of the counter. “Not sure when I’m going to bring up the whole we-need-couples-counseling thing.”
“Is she in therapy?”
I nod. “Not for me. For her. For the baby.”
His gaze sharpens. “You have your doubts, don’t you?”
Of course I do. But the words that come out are rawer, stripped bare. “If I lose her . . .” My chest feels tight, the confession scraping against something unguarded. “I would die.”
Papa’s expression doesn’t change. “She’s always been good for you,” he says, folding his arms on the table. “The question is, are you good for her?”
It hits like a sucker punch because I’ve been asking myself the same damn thing. “I hope I am.” My voice is rough. “I want to be.”
Papa nods. “Then don’t just tell her. Show her.”
That’s what I’ve been doing all along, right? And then I think about how she asked me to stay with her last night. Not because she needed sex. Just . . . me. Us. Because she wanted to fall asleep with my arms around her.
“I should check on her.”
Papa smirks. “Of course.”
I roll my eyes but push off the counter, already making my way upstairs. Because he’s right. And I plan on showing her every damn day. Until she realizes that I love her. Until . . .
Will she ever love me back?
* * *
The room is still how I left it. Shutters off, dim, and warm. Hailey’s curled up on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other resting over her stomach like she’s already protecting the little thing growing inside her. My thing. Not my thing. My . . .
Mine.
I sigh, shutting the door behind me and moving toward the bed. She barely stirs when I ease down beside her, just a soft breath, a small shift. The fact that she sleeps this well around me does something to my chest I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with right now. Instead, I focus on the baby. Our baby.
Not by blood. But who the hell cares about DNA when I’m already in love with the little one? That little heart that’s mine to protect.
I rest my palm against the soft curve of her belly, careful not to wake her. “Hey, kid,” I murmur.
Nothing.
Figures. Already taking after Hailey, making me work for it. I huff, rubbing small circles over the warm skin beneath her shirt. “You have no idea how lucky you are,” I whisper, voice lower, softer. “Your mom is the best person I’ve ever met. Stubborn as hell, but she’s got a good heart. And I know she’s gonna love you more than anything.”
My throat tightens, but I push through, brushing my thumb along the hem of her sleep shirt. “We’re at my dads’ place right now. They’re gonna love you, too. One of them is already planning a nursery, and the other is probably figuring out how to make you a tiny hockey jersey. Just warning you now, they’re a lot.”
Still nothing. Maybe I should read that book again, check when babies are supposed to start kicking. I mean, she’s not even showing just yet.
I smirk. “I was thinking I’d show you the horses tomorrow. Not that you’ll remember, but hey, might as well start early, right? You’re gonna grow up knowing that Crawford babies ride. That’s just a fact. Even when your grandpas and I will fight, you’ll have your own pony before you can walk.”
I pause, sliding my fingers over Hailey’s stomach like I can feel something changing already.
God. This thing—this tiny, impossible thing—is going to be a person. A person who’s going to look up at me, who’s going to need me. And, fuck, I need to be better than what I am.
I let out a slow breath, voice dropping lower. “I don’t know what I am to you yet,” I admit. “I don’t know where I fit. But I promise you this—I’m not going anywhere.”
Still, silence. But I swear, for just a second, Hailey shifts into my touch, like even in sleep, she knows. I just settle in and take them in my arms. My little family—I just hope she can see it.