3. Chapter 3
Two Months Ago
G raduation is supposed to be a day of celebration, and it is.
Four long years have been consumed by strict schedules, endless assignments, and challenging exams. All of my hard work has resulted in a college degree, four consecutive conference football titles, and two national championships.
It’s been a helluva ride at Central Texas University.
And I’m proud to be following in my dad’s footsteps with a starting coaching job under his leadership.
But while the accomplishments are everything I’ve ever wanted, I can’t help the ache of all that’s changing.
The people I’ve spent the last four years with—my friends, my family—are scattering across the country as they continue to chase dreams and start new lives.
In a few short weeks, they’ll all be somewhere else.
We all knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t hurt any less.
Luckily, my sister will still be here…for now. But she has her own life with her boyfriend.
And me? I’ll still be here walking the same hallways, standing on the same sidelines, but instead of wearing shoulder pads and a helmet, I’ll be wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard.
The routines we built—Sunday dinners, movie nights, post-game parties—are gone.
This chapter is closing, and I was doing fine with it. Or so I thought…
Does graduating turn everyone into a sensitive sap, or have I been spending too much time with my sister?
For the first time in a long time, I don’t know what comes next.
Then I see her .
And suddenly, everything else fades away.
Gone are my sensitive thoughts of the future. My family’s voices melt into the background until they become white noise as I stare at the girl standing a few yards away. Slow, tentative steps carry her closer to us.
While my gaze is too busy tracking all the changes in her appearance—shorter, darker hair, tired eyes—it’s the gasp behind me that has me taking a closer look.
Trailing down her body, my heart stops as I take in the green dress that’s hugging her curves, ones I’ve spent hours memorizing.
But the roundness of her belly hits me like a linebacker on my blind side.
She’s fucking pregnant.
And for the first time all day, the weight of everything crashes over me like a tsunami, and I forget how to breathe.
My eyes flick to my sister, who’s standing next to Crew, looking as shocked as I am. Our silent communication takes over.
Her eyes widen in a w hat the fuck?
While I quirk an eyebrow, as if asking, Did you know?
She shakes her head, and I exhale a deep breath.
Am I going to be a dad? The possibility is there, depending on how far along she is.
My mind spirals as I do the mental calculations from the last time we hooked up. I can’t fucking remember, but I know it was sometime this school year. Could the baby be mine? Could Savannah Holycross be pregnant with my fucking kid and not tell me for months?
As I stare at the woman who haunts my dreams, I feel my face fall from surprise to confusion. My eyebrows pinch as we erase the space between us, like magnets to metal.
“Congratulations, Sunshine.” Her words are whispered as bright blue eyes search mine.
Hearing her nickname slip through those gorgeous lips makes my chest ache.
She’s the only one who’s ever called me that, and it started after I was a total bastard to her.
She sarcastically called me a “ray of sunshine,” and Sunshine stuck.
Even on my grouchiest days, I was her sunshine.
Her light at the end of the darkest days.
I shake my head, cutting off thoughts of our past—of what could’ve been.
“Sav…” My voice is a low rumble, coming out harsher than I intended.
Before she can say anything, my mom is stepping closer. “Grant, honey. Who’s your friend?”
I watch as Savannah moves slightly, staring past my shoulder toward my family, who are no doubt as confused as I am.
Instinctively, I move to reach for her, wanting to pull her in for a hug.
But I stop myself. Is she even mine to hug anymore?
Not that she was ever mine . Flexing my fingers, I drop my hand back to my side.
Hurt flashes in her eyes, and I instantly regret it. Stepping aside, I introduce her to my family. “This is Savannah.”
“Savannah,” Mom repeats, recognition in her voice. “This is Savannah .”
With a deep sigh, I regret telling my mom about her freshman year.
Clearly, she’s never forgotten her name.
And why would she? It’s not like I had a slew of girls to bring home or, hell, even talk about.
Savannah Holycross was the only girl I’ve ever talked about to my parents.
And now she’s standing in front of me…pregnant.
Mom moves closer, and I watch her inspect Savannah. “Sweetheart, we were heading to dinner. Please join us.”
I don’t know how long I stand there in silence as conversation starts around me.
My mom’s being surprisingly calm, which makes me think she’s internally freaking out.
In her mind, her kids are still innocent—we don’t drink, we don’t party, and we definitely don’t have sex.
If only she knew. But now she has proof that her kids are old enough to father a child. Or…am I the father?
Fuck! I internally scream. How long has it been since we hooked up?
Not that long, right? Thanksgiving, maybe.
Could she be that far along? How many weeks are in a pregnancy?
How many weeks has it been? Jesus. My brain is doing mental calculations and setting up a murder board like I’m on some true crime show.
Groaning, I give up.
“Oh, no, thank you so much for the offer, Mrs. Campbell. I only came to tell Grant congratulations and to give him this.” Savannah smiles at my mom before reaching out to give me a blue gift bag I didn’t even notice was in her hands.
An awkward silence falls over us as I stare at the bag like there’s a bomb desperate to detonate inside. As she lowers it, her face falling, I snap back to reality and grab the bag.
“Th–” I start to say, before clearing my throat. “Thank you, Savannah.”
With a forced smile, she dips her head and turns to walk away.
“Grant,” my father grits out between his teeth. I’m unsure if it’s a grit of disapproval, frustration, disappointment, or all of the above.
Taking a step toward her, I call out to her. She pauses but doesn’t turn around. “Come to dinner with us.”
I know she’ll tell me no, so I cut her off before she has the chance. “Please.”
The drive back to campus is uncomfortably quiet. Gripping the steering wheel, I bite my cheek until a metallic taste floods my mouth. I welcome the pain to keep from blurting the million questions and thoughts I have floating around my head.
I’m grateful Crew tossed me his truck keys so I could drive Sav back. I don’t think I could’ve survived another awkward car ride with my parents as we all pretended there wasn’t an elephant in the car with us.
Dinner had been normal—or as normal as it could be.
With Sav sitting across from me, her belly hidden beneath the table, it was easy to pretend she wasn’t pregnant.
My family welcomed her like she’d always been a part of our circle.
My heart squeezed at the thought of what could have been—or what could be.
I still didn’t know if that’s my baby inside her.
Conversation flowed as we enjoyed our steak dinners. Mom asked about our lives while Crew cracked jokes and Bret threw in sarcastic remarks, lightening the mood. Dad and I sat back like normal, chipping in to the conversation when we needed to.
If I didn’t know any better, I would think it was a regular family dinner, not the most unexpected turn of my graduation day.
The closer we get to campus, the thicker the air gets. Tension swirls around us at the unsaid words.
I pull into the nearly deserted parking lot, a vast contrast to a few hours earlier.
Scanning the lot, I find her red Civic. Stopping beside her car, I shift the truck into park but keep the engine running.
The late evening sun beats down on us as KISS plays from the classic rock station Crew had preset.
My hands stay on the wheel. From the corner of my eye, I watch hers drift to her belly, rubbing almost absently. The silence stretches between us, swelling like a storm ready to break.
She’s the one who finally does.
Shifting in her seat, she turns to face me as she presses her back against the door.
She nibbles on her thumbnail, a nervous tic she’s always had.
Without thought, I reach forward and gently pull her thumb away.
Instead of letting her go, I hold her hand.
The touch brings me comfort. The truth is, I’ve missed her.
Hopefully, our connection will give her the courage she needs to have this conversation.
As she glances down at our joined hands, a soft smile toys on her lips.
I wait patiently… Well, I try. My nerves are shot, and I’m forcing myself to keep the shaking at bay.
The lingering silence is thick and suffocating, but I don’t push. This is her story to tell, and I’ll sit here until deep in the night if that’s what it takes.
Staring ahead, I watch a flock of birds take flight and land.
Always moving together. I hear her take a deep exhale and then another.
With a gentle squeeze, she releases my hand.
I hate the loss of her touch instantly. Her lips part, then press together.
This hesitation, this not being able to talk to me, that’s not her.
That’s not us .
“I should’ve told you sooner,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper.
My stomach tightens. “Told me what?”
“About the baby.”
Her voice wavers, but she keeps going. “I shouldn’t have disappeared on you for the last couple of months. I shouldn’t have ghosted you. I should’ve told you instead of…instead of hiding.”
Something cracks in my chest. Maybe it’s my heart breaking. Because, deep down, I already know the answer I’m desperate for.
I wet my lips and force the million-dollar question. “Is it mine?”
She stills. But I know before she says it. I can feel it, see it in the way her shoulders stiffen and her breath stutters.
“No.”
Fuck. One word. Two letters that gut me.
A rush of air leaves my lungs. Relief is the first. I’m not going to be a dad. This responsibility isn’t mine. It’s the answer I’d been hoping for all day.
But right now, on its heels comes something else. Something heavier.
Disappointment.
And that part makes no damn sense.
I drag my hands down my face, tipping my head until it’s resting on the back of the seat.
I swallow, keeping my voice even. “So that’s why you left?”
“I didn’t know how to stay. Didn’t know how to face you—face anyone—when suddenly I was living my worst nightmare. The life I swore I’d never have.”
She’s silent for the briefest of moments, and when she speaks again, her words are quieter. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
Like this.
Like she’s something to be ashamed of. Like she thinks I’d look at her any differently.
“That’s bullshit,” I blurt before cringing at how harsh I sound.
She flinches but doesn’t argue.
I don’t know what to say to make this better. For once, I feel like I’m at a loss for words. I’ve always been the friend everyone comes to, but right now, I could use a lifeline of my own.
I do the first thing that comes to mind. I reach for her hand again. I don’t know who this is anchoring—me or her—but I want her to know she isn’t alone.
She swipes at her eyes. I hate seeing women cry. It triggers an internal need to fix everything. And I especially hate seeing Savannah cry.
“I–” Her voice breaks as tears pour down her cheeks. “I wanted the father to be you.”
My breath catches as I whip my head in her direction.
Her chin trembles. “If it were yours, then maybe I wouldn’t have felt so…so lonely.” She sucks in a shaky breath, fighting to keep her emotions in check. “Maybe I wouldn’t have spent the last few months terrified, trying to figure out how I’m supposed to do this alone.”
Alone? What the fuck? Where’s the baby’s dad?
She’s not alone. Not as long as I’m breathing.
The words take up residence inside me, and I’m not sure if now is the right time to voice them.
Instead, I squeeze her hand again. “You should’ve told me.” My voice stays steady, even though I’m breaking, and the baby isn’t even mine. “Not because of what it would’ve meant, but because you didn’t have to go through this by yourself.”
She nods, swallowing hard. “I know.”
For a moment, we just look at each other—both of us searching for what to say next. I know it’s not my problem. But what if I want it to be?
She shifts in her seat, hesitating briefly before awkwardly leaning over the console in a way that doesn’t crush her growing bump. Her arms come around my shoulders, tentative at first, as my senses are flooded with everything that is Savannah Holycross.
Vanilla. Cinnamon. Peaches.
As she squeezes me tighter, I take the opportunity to inhale her intoxicating scent. A deep exhale hits my shoulder through the material of my polo.
Before I can even think about what this hug means, she’s pulling away, pressing a quick kiss to my stubble-covered cheek. A whisper of warmth—of hope. A flash of something I can’t decipher in time before she’s pulling away, and I feel her slip from my grasp.
“I’m grateful for you, Grant Campbell. For your friendship. For your heart,” she says softly, her body back to her side. “But this… This isn’t your problem.”
I open my mouth to argue, to blurt out all the declarations I should’ve told her, but she shakes her head, cutting me off.
“I just… I wanted to come today to congratulate you and give you a gift. And I wanted to follow through on our promise.” Her lips curve, barely a smile. “Freshman year, remember?”
And just like that, she reaches for the door handle, slipping out into the early evening air before I can respond. I sit there long after her taillights have disappeared.
Sitting there, with the warmth of her touch lingering on my skin, I replay her words.
I believe her. I know she can do this on her own.
But I also know she’s spent her entire life doing things alone.
She doesn’t have to anymore.
Even if the baby isn’t mine and we don’t have a future together—which is bullshit because my feelings for Savannah Holycross have never wavered. I was waiting for the right time, like an idiot.
She’s not alone.
And I’ll make damn sure she never feels that way again.