Page 83 of Huge Pucking Play

"Don't apologize." She sits up, stretching again. Her hair falls around her shoulders in messy waves. "It's one of the things I like most about you. You care. About everything."

I care about her most of all. The thought hits me with physical force. These past several months have been a blur of late-night cravings runs, crib shopping and learning more about baby proofing than I ever thought possible. And through it all, this feeling has been growing inside me.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks, her head tilted to the side. "You've got that look again."

"What look?"

"The one where you're planning the next twenty years in your head." Her fingers brush my jaw. "Relax, Coach. We've got time."

Do we? I almost say it out loud. Things are moving fast between us, but not fast enough for my liking. She still has her apartment downtown, though she spends most nights here. We haven't made anything official beyond the fact that we're a couple and having this baby together. But lately, I've been thinking about more. About forever.

My father once told me—before he died during my rookie year—that when you know, you know. ‘Don't waste time overthinking it, son,’ he'd said.

I kiss her forehead, her cheek, and finally her lips. "I love mornings like this," I murmur against her mouth. "When you’re here with me."

She kisses me back, and I feel that now-familiar warmth spread through my chest. I never expected this—to become a father, to feel this way about Cyn. But now I can't imagine my life any other way. I'm still scared as hell about screwing up, about not being the father this kid deserves. But when Cyn looks at me like she believes in me...there’s nothing better.

And that's enough to start with.

An hour later, it hits me during practice, between yelling defensive formations and watching Johnson bungle the same power play setup for the third time. I love her. The realization stops me mid-sentence, the whistle halfway to my lips. Three simple words that explain everything—why I wake up early just to watch her sleep, why her laugh makes my chest hurt in the best way possible, why the thought of our future together feels like coming home after a long road trip. I, Garrett Hughes, am in love with Cynthia Lockhart. And not only that. I realize I want to live with her ASAP.

"Earth to Hughes." Martinez says, waves a hand in front of my face. "You still with us, or did your brain take an early lunch?"

"Sorry." I shake my head, blowing the whistle. "Johnson! Watch your positioning. Again!"

Anthony studies me with narrowed eyes as the players reset. "What's going on with you today? You've been spacing out all morning."

"Nothing. Just thinking about the Toronto game."

"Bullshit." He grins. "I’m guessing this has something to do with a certain PT who’s pregnant with your baby."

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "Yeah."

"Man, you've got it bad." He claps me on the shoulder. "Never thought I'd see the day after the divorce hell you went through."

"Me neither." I watch the players execute the drill. Better this time. "I'm gonna tell her."

"That you're thinking about her instead of coaching?"

"That I love her."

Anthony's eyebrows shoot up. "Wow. Okay. That's...big."

"I know."

“So how are you going to do it?”

A plan forms in my mind as we talk, pieces falling into place.

"I'm thinking about whisking her away. Somewhere special. The Peninsula, maybe."

Anthony whistles. "Pulling out all the stops. I like it."

After practice, I make the calls. The Peninsula has a cancellation for tonight—a stroke of luck. I book their best suite and arrange for dinner on the private terrace. I talk to the chef personally about the menu. Cyn loves seafood, especially scallops and the chef happens to have some available.

My next call is to Cyn.

"Hey, you." Her voice is bright, slightly breathless. She must be having a busy day.

---