Page 143 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
She crosses the distance in three quick steps. “You’re okay?” Her hands hover like she wants to touch me but isn’t sure where it’s safe.
“God, I saw the hit and then you didn’t come back and…” She shakes her head, swallowing hard. “I was so scared.”
I nod once, slow. “Shoulder’s banged up. MRI in the morning. They don’t think it’s serious.” I stop, my throat going dry. “But I have no idea how long I’ll be benched.”
Ava looks down at the wrap peeking from beneath my shirt sleeve. “Does it hurt?”
“Only when I breathe,” I deadpan, and her mouth twitches despite everything.
She steps in closer, her voice quiet now. “The boys didn’t see it happen. Miss Taylor texted me.”
Relief hits me like a second wind. “Good.”
She reaches for my good hand, threading her fingers through mine like it’s second nature.
As she does, a thought rises. Quiet, steady, impossible to ignore.
That unopened pregnancy test on her desk.
I haven’t said anything. Haven’t asked.
Because I don’t know what to say.
When I first saw it, my stomach dropped. I won’t lie.
The timing. The weight of it. How fast everything between us has moved.
And yeah—my first instinct? It was panic.
Not because I don’t care about her. God, that’s not it.
But because we’re still figuring this out. Because I’ve already done the whole newborn phase. Because part of me is still relearning how to let someone in without losing the ground beneath my feet.
A baby?
That’s not a small detour. That’s a whole new map.
It scares me, yeah.
But the longer I sit with it, the more I keep coming back to the same thing:
I want to be the one she leans on.
If she’s pregnant, then everything changes.
And I’m still here.
I want to ask her about it. To take that weight off her shoulders.
But something in her eyes tells me she’s not ready yet.
So I wait.
Not because I’m afraid of the answer.
But because I’m not going anywhere.
Chapter Forty-Three
