Page 104 of Pieces

“Daph, I need you to know that I see Hudson work hard, I see his dedication. That’s why I’ve been hard on him. Our relationship has always been push and pull.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted to see him stand up to me, not for himself, but for you…and he did.”

My heart pounds. “What did he say to you?”

His mouth twitches, almost like a smile. “What he always says when we talk…that he wasn’t going anywhere. That I could throw every test at him, every drill, every cold shoulder…and he’d still be here for you and the baby.”

My breath catches.

“And I believe him.”

Something breaks loose in my chest, warming me all over. The weight that I’ve been carrying around for weeks, finally feels lighter. I need two of the most important men in my life to truly understand each other and that feels like it might happen now. Relief floods me so intensely I almost feel dizzy. I know that Hudson is loyal and his determination is one of the things that I adore about him. But hearing Dad acknowledge it feels like another kind of validation I hadn’t dared to hope for until now. My dad isn’t perfect, but neither am I. I’ve always held myself to such impossible standards and maybe acknowledging each other’s flaws and imperfections is exactly what we both need to heal. Maybe now all the past few weeks can fade away and we can finally move forward.

He sighs lightly. “Listen, I’m still your dad. I’m always going to protect you, probably more than you’d like. But I’m going to step up, and I’m sorry I haven’t already.”

“Gonna need you to apologize to him for real, though.”

“I know. I will.” He moves back to his side of the desk, pulling something out and handing it to me. “Here’s something I got you and him. It’s not much, but I hope you’ll like it.”

I cautiously take the wrapped gift, tearing it with suspicion. When a tiny burgundy-and-white baby jersey falls from the paper, the name ‘Parker’ scrawled on the back, my heart flips over itself. “Dad…” I wobble, unable to look away from the name.

“Figured the baby should have their first jersey,” he says gruffly.

I blink, but the tears are already there, not sure they’ve ever left. “It’s perfect.”

“Think they’ll make the pros?” Dad asks as he steps back.

“If Hudson has anything to do with it, I’d say absolutely.”

There’s a beat of silence before he says, “I'm proud of you.”

I smile. “I’m proud of me too.”

Chapter forty-four

Hudson

16-17 weeks

I’m standing outside Daphne’s dorm, shifting from one foot to the other to keep warm. The January air bites at my cheeks, and my breath plumes in front of me as I glance down the path for the millionth time. I check my phone again—no new messages. She texted when she left, but now I’m waiting to see her in person, which feels like a whole different kind of impatience.

Ten days. Ten long-ass days. I actually ended up working a bunch, only spending two days at home, and boosting the money I’ve been saving for us to get our own place before the baby comes. It now doesn’t look like a penny fund, which is great.

I’ve resorted to watching the reel she posted while she was away. A short clip, less than thirty seconds, where she talks over the top of the video for top tips for managing school, sports, and motherhood with someone from the soccer team who also has kids. It doesn’t matter that we video called every night; I wanted more. It doesn’t matter that she sent me random pictures of whatever she was eating or the view from her room. None of it’s enough. I wore her scrunchie on my wrist every day like a lovesick fool.

I want her here, beside me, filling the empty space that’s been nagging at me since the moment she left. The ache is sharper than I expected, this pull toward her that I don’t know how to explain. It’s like something inside me has shifted, like she’s not just someone I want anymore. She’s someone I need.

It’s not like we haven’t been apart before, but this time... Knowing she was facing her dad and all the crap that came with that? It made every hour drag. She told me not to worry, and I tried, hell, I really tried, but I’m not great at sitting back and doing nothing.

I’m just about to call her for an update when I see her.

She’s walking toward me, suitcase in one hand, her other hand shoved into the pocket of her jacket. Her hair’s loose, catching in the winter wind, and her cheeks are flushed pink from the cold. My heart damn near stops. Ten days, and somehow, she looks different. More beautiful.

When she spots me, her lips curve into a smile, and just like that, everything feels right again.

“Princess,” I call out, crossing the distance between us in a few quick strides.

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