Page 29 of The Players Next Door

I can't help myself; I drink her in. But then I notice that she's pale, almost ghostly, and it kills me.

"Nothing," I say, but it's a weak attempt. "Just working out some stuff."

"Working out some stuff?" Sawyer spits out, his eyes wild as he tries to free himself from Deacon's hold. "This—"

"Enough, Sawyer!" Jaxon barks, his back against the wall, his face twisted with frustration and something else. Something raw.

"Tell me what you were thinking, huh?" Sawyer snarls, his gaze fixed on Jaxon. "The three of you! With my sister! My sister, Jaxon! You’re supposed to be my best fucking friend."

Sawyer lunges for him again. Deacon and I surge forward, trying to get between them. Jaxon's eyes flicker over to Holly, and there's a beat, a single heartbeat, where everything hangs in the balance. Then it spills out of him, heavy and sure.

"I love her."

It's like someone sucked all the air out of the room. Silence, thick and heavy, settles on us.

"Jax..." Holly says the word like a breath, like a prayer that tugs at something deep in my chest.

"You love her?" Sawyer echoes, disbelief etching his features, the fight draining out of him like water from a pierced can.

"I love her." Jaxon's voice is a broken hush, but it carries, filling the space between us, binding and shattering us all at once.

"Wow," Deacon murmurs, and I nod because, yeah. Wow.

I step forward, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Holly," I start, my voice barely above a whisper but strong with the weight of what I'm about to say.

Jaxon's on my left, his tattooed arms crossed, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. Deacon's right beside me, quiet but his presence is like a comforting rock I can lean on.

"I love you, too," I say, and it feels like I'm shedding years of walls I've built around myself. "We're in this together—if you want us."

"Completely," Deacon adds, his voice low.

"Every damn part of me is yours if you'll have it," Jaxon says, his dimple showing despite the tension in the room.

Sawyer slumps down, the fierceness melting off him as he presses a towel against his eye. He looks up at Holly, his jaw working like he's chewing on glass.

"Tell them," he grinds out.

"Tell us what?" My mind races through a million scenarios, none of them good. Holly shakes her head, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo.

"It's not your business," she insists, her voice trembling.

"Tell. Them." Sawyer's voice is no longer a command; it's a plea.

My stomach drops. Tell us what?

The silence in the room hangs heavy like a wet jersey. Sawyer's glare pins Holly to the spot. He's waiting, we're all waiting.

Holly's eyes meet mine, those big blue pools of worry and something else—fear? She bites her lip, a nervous habit that I've come to find endearing. But now, it only twists my gut tighter.

"I, um," she starts, voice so soft it's nearly swallowed up by the tension surrounding us.

"What is it, Hol?" It's Jaxon's turn to coax her, his hand reaching out but not quite touching her.

My mind is reeling. I’m cycling through every worst-case scenario as the seconds stretch out. She’s found someone else? She’s leaving? What?

She takes a deep breath, and I swear I can hear her heart pounding from where I stand. Then she lets the breath out, along with words that hit me harder than any slapshot.

"I'm pregnant."

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