Page 109 of Pieces

His mouth opens and closes in quick succession, as though he’s trying to figure out where to start. “I know I didn’t exactly handle things well when I first found out about you and Daphne. My reaction…it wasn’t fair.”

I glance at him. “Coach—”

He cuts me off. “You’re stepping up, Hudson. I can see how hard you’re working for her, for the baby. Daphne tells Serena pretty much everything, and I can tell you care about my daughter.”

“I’ve got her,” I say, resolute.

“I know,” he says without hesitation, and it makes me feel ten feet tall. “And you had one hell of a season too. Nothing fazed you. You put in the work where it counts, and I respect that.”

My chest tightens. “Thanks, Coach.”

His eyes narrow, but not in a harsh way. “I hear you’re running deliveries too?”

“Yes, sir. I needed to make sure I could provide for them both. I’m going to draft next year and I hope that I’ll get signed,” I take a second to pray to the football gods, “that will hopefully ease things for us, but until then I’ll work during summer to make sure we’re covered.”

“I know you will,” he says with an assurance I appreciate. “Listen, I owe you an apology, Hudson. I haven’t handled any of this how I should have. I reacted in fear and if I’m honest, disappointment—not because of you or her, but because I had this vision for my daughter that didn’t involve her struggling or worrying about anything.” He pauses, light eyes focused on me. “But you’ve stepped up in ways I didn’t give you enough credit for. I should’ve been there guiding you, supporting you.” He extends his hand for me to take, and I do. “I want you to know that you have my full support from here on out. You’re a good man, Daphne and my grandchild are lucky to have you.””

I smile genuinely at him. His words resonate deeply with me, some kind of respect I’d never gotten from my own dad, it smooths over insecurities I’ve carried silently for months. I grip his hand firmly, gratitude and relief rushing through me. Knowing he believes in me, makes everything feel more possible. “That means a lot.”

He nods, releasing my hand and we continue walking. “I’ve been thinking…if you need some help getting a place together, something more stable, I’d like to help. Both me and Serena would like to help. You’ve got enough on your plate so where we can, we want to help you out.”

I stop walking, staring at him. “You’d do that? For us?”

Coach stops too, looking me straight in the eyes. “Yeah, I would. Because I can see how much you care about her, about the future you’re building. That’s worth supporting.”

Heat prickles behind my eyes but I blink it away. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Keep working hard, on and off the field. You’ve got something good here, Hudson. Don’t mess it up.”

“I won’t,” I promise. In fact, that promise isn’t just for him, it’s for me, Daphne, and the baby, because I’m going to make sure the next season, my last, will be my best.

Chapter forty-six

Daphne

26 weeks

My eyes feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. It’s the last class of my longest day, and every minute that ticks by feels like it’s dragging me further under. I could be relaxing with Hudson, but right now, my reality is very different.

I blink hard, trying to focus on the slides Professor Vance is presenting, but the words blur together for a second before coming back into focus. It’s completely surreal seeing my work up there used as an example for all students to learn from, but here we are. The CLUSports segment started after Christmas, and it’s taken off. I love making the highlight reels and mini-interviews with these incredible women. Some are moms, some aren’t, and I’m here for it all.

I stifle a huge yawn, but it escapes anyway.

It’s not that I’m uninterested. I love this class, and PR strategy is exactly where I want to be. But today? Today feels like I’ve run a marathon and then someone told me to climb a mountain for fun. Between back-to-back classes, editing social media posts for CLUSports, and the baby growing inside me, my body isdone.

At twenty-six weeks, the baby apps say there’s a growth spurt, and maybe that’s why I feel like my limbs are made of cement.

“Daphne,” Professor Vance calls, snapping me out of my haze.

I look up quickly and straighten in my seat. “Yes?”

Her expression softens, and she gestures toward the whiteboard. “I just wanted to take a moment to personally acknowledge your work this semester, especially with the sports coverage. The creativity and consistency have been excellent. The innovation with PR segments especially around women is truly inspiring. You should be proud.”

A flicker of pride breaks through the exhaustion, and I nod quickly. “Thank you, Professor.” I am proud. I’ve shed light on athletes at this school that have never even been asked for a sound bite.

Women aren’t weak, and it’s about time the world sees how strong, capable, and deserving we are.

She smiles before moving on, and I bask in the moment, briefly. The compliment feels amazing, but it’s drowned out by the overwhelming need to either collapse into bed or eat something. My stomach churns, reminding me that a granola bar this morning isn’t cutting it.

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