Breathe With Me (Playing For Keeps #5)

by Becka Mack

“Oh my fuck,” she breathes out. “Emmett! Emmett, look at me! I’m doing it!” “Fuck yeah, baby!” I holler across the lake. “You’re doing it!” “I don’t know how to stop!” she shrieks, going all of two miles per hour as she approaches the pines at the edge of the lake. “I can’t stop! I’m going to die!” “You’re doing great!” She’s still shrieking, the sound bloodcurdling as it echoes across the lake, when she grabs hold of a branch that hangs out over the ice. She uses it to turn herself around, and pure joy explodes across her face as she heads back my way, reaching for me. “Did you see that? I turned myself around! I’m a skater! A professional! There’s never been anyone like me before!” I catch her by the waist, spinning her around as she squeals with laughter. “There’s only one you,” I murmur, forehead pressed to hers as I set her back on her feet. “And somehow, in this whole world, you’re mine.”

“There are five players and one goalie on the ice at all times for each team, unless there’s a penalty. When there’s a penalty for someone on your team, and you have to try to stop the other team from scoring, it’s called a penalty kill. When the other team has a penalty, it’s called a power play. A hat trick is when you score three times in the same game, which you did three games ago in Florida. You also punched someone that game, which got you a major penalty, which is five minutes, and it was so hot I⁠—” “I love you.” Her gaze snaps to mine. “What?” “I love you, Cara. And I don’t care that it’s only been three weeks, and maybe you think I’m a little crazy. I’ve been crazy since the day I took one look at you and told myself you were it for me, and I’ll be crazy for the rest of my life, because there’s nothing sane about the way I love you.” Cara’s eyes bounce between mine, like she’s seeing every word, tasting them, searching for the hidden meaning. There is none. She’s mine. She owns me, my heart, my soul, every goddamn thought, and I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense. I’m just going to pray to God that she feels the same way. “Watch the shoe-daggers,” she breathes out, and before I can ask her what she means, she leaps at my chest. Tosses her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. Claims my mouth with hers as my hands go to her ass, holding her to me while I taste all her unspoken words from her tongue. But then she gives me those, too. “I love you, too,...

It’s never been lost on me. Emmett might have been the one that forced us together, but I’ve been hanging on with all my might since. My heart hasn’t been mine since the day we met. Now, it wanders around outside my body, and that’s as powerful as it is terrifying.

A swipe of my finger, and something sick and anxious swirls in my stomach as I stare down at my inbox, the subject line that reads Pregnancy Results. I curl my fingernails into my palms as I fight with myself, tell myself I have more self-control than this. That I can’t let this, this journey, all the heartache so far, change me. That I won’t. But as I reach to lock my phone, the tremor of my hand catches me off guard. This hand isn’t supposed to shake. I’m not supposed to shake. Maybe that’s why I jab my finger against the email before I can change my mind. Before I can talk myself out of it. I wish I’d talked myself out of it. My throat seizes as my eyes fly over the words that feel a lot more like a sentence, a lifetime one for a crime I didn’t commit. Tears gather in my burning eyes without my permission, and I shake my head, like I can shake them away. I can’t, though, and when the patio door slides open and Emmett slips inside, it feels like my chest cracks wide open. He stops before me, not paying any mind to the phone in my hand, the screen now black. “You looked,” he says gently. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words hoarse as Emmett’s face blurs. His hand closes over mine, pulling the phone from my grasp, tucking it in his pocket. He takes my face in his hands, midnight eyes dancing with agony as he watches tears free-fall down my cheeks. “Never apologize. Not for this.” He presses a kiss to my lips and my hand to his heart, and I feel it, the way he loves me, the de...

But then he pulls back, his eyes glossy. He blinks, and a single tear drips from both eyes, carving his pain into his face. Pain I put there. I let go of the steering wheel. And I crash.

And when I’m sitting in a restaurant two hours later, surrounded by my mom and brothers, I can’t help but think that, sometimes, the family you choose shows up for you more than the family you’re born into.

“You know what you need? A vacation. I bet you just need to relax. Get drunk, forget all about it. It worked for my friend. Tried for four months, everything under the sun. I said, ‘Marsha, honey, you need to just get away and take your mind off it.’ She did. Went to Florida, got drunk off her ass, came back knocked up.” “A whole four months, huh?” “Mhmm.” She chugs her wine, then hands it to Craig for a refill. “How long have you guys been trying?” “Over two years.” “Oh.” She blinks, slowly lowering her glass. “Which one of you is the issue?” “What kind of a question is that?” I ask, shaking my head. “Oh, I just mean … normally, it’s the sperm, or the eggs, or the uterus, or⁠—” “It’s me,” Cara says, and I hate that she keeps her eyes on her plate, that her voice is barely a whisper. I hate more than anything that her hand leaves mine, gently shifting it off her thigh before she folds hers together in her lap.

She clears her throat, pasting a smile on her face as she looks up at Sasha, at my family. “I’m the issue. I have diminished ovarian reserve.” “How do you get something like that?” my mom asks. She points at Cara with her fork. “I bet if you cleaned up your eating habits and stopped drinking⁠—” “Mom,” I growl. “What? That couldn’t hurt. We didn’t have all these issues when we were growing up, and our generation was much healthier. None of this processed crap everyone’s eating now.” I scrub my hands down my face. “Cara is perfectly healthy, which is why her diagnosis is so confusing. And anyway, she’s not the issue. We’re in this together.” Cara looks up at me, a soft smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. She reaches over, lacing her fingers through mine, pulling my hand back to her lap.

“Lift your arms, firefly,” I whisper against her ear, dragging her cropped tank top up, pulling it over her head. “I don’t want to take my needle,” she murmurs as she watches me head to the mini fridge in our closet, pulling out the case with her medication.

“I know, baby.” Back into my arms she goes, until I set her on the edge of the bathroom counter. “I’ll be quick and gentle, and I’ll hold you after.” She takes her lower lip between her teeth, the slight tremble in her chin pulling at my heart as she watches me clean a spot on her torso. I ready the needle, checking for bubbles, twisting it to the right dose. When I look back to Cara, her eyes are squeezed shut. “Hey.” I cup her face, sweeping my thumb over her cheekbone until her lashes flutter, gaze coming to mine. “I got you, sweetheart.” She nods, and I crouch between her legs, pinching her skin gently between my fingers, depressing the needle, holding her gaze as she sucks in a shuddering breath. “Your grace, even when the person receiving it doesn’t deserve it.” I kiss the top of her thigh, feeling the way Cara softens below me, same as she always does when I’m giving her five reasons I love her. “Your smart mouth when you put them in their place.” A soft snicker. “I do love putting people in their place.” “I’m not sure they’d ever find it without you.”

“Your devotion to your friends, your determination even in the face of struggle, and the way you love me, so perfectly I feel it every second of the day.” She cradles my head in her hand as I press a kiss to the spot on her stomach. “You did so good, baby.” “Will it ever get easier?” Cara asks as she laces her fingers through mine, following me to bed. “The needle? I think you’ll get used to it.” “I don’t want to,” she admits quietly as I glide her panties down her legs, peel her bra off before she crawls under the covers. “If I get used to it, it means I’m still taking it. And if I’m still taking it …”

“Look at me, Care. This isn’t easy, I know. That’s okay. The only thing that’s come easy in my life is loving you. I’d spend the rest of my life fighting, as long as it’s you I’m fighting for.”

“I love you,” she tells me, the words quiet but so damn sure as she twists into me, slides her soft hand along my jaw, brings my lips to hers. “There is nothing in this world I love the way I love you,” I promise as I cover her body with mine, gripping her waist as she moves below me, my fingers sliding into her silky hair, gathering it in my fist as I drag my mouth down her throat, painting her collarbone in wet kisses. I flick my tongue over one taut nipple before tugging it gently between my teeth as she arches against me. “F-u-u-uck,” she rasps as I suck her nipple into my mouth, lavishing it in attention before moving to the next, dipping my hand between her thighs. I pull her wetness to her clit, circling it as she moans, my cock hard and pressed against her hip. “What do you want, baby? Tell me.” “You. Your cock. I want you slow and hard, so deep I feel you when you’re gone.” She threads her fingers through my hair, yanking my face back to hers, where she devours my mouth, her tongue lapping at mine. “Fuck me, Emmett. Love me. Please.” “You know you don’t need to ask so nicely. There’s nothing I love doing more than loving you.” She gasps, hips lifting as I sink inside her, slow and deep, just how she wants it tonight. Fingertips press into my jaw, bringing my mouth down to hers. “You do it so well.”

“Only thing I was made for.”

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur as she climbs higher, fingernails biting into my biceps. “Strong. Fierce.” Her walls squeeze, pulling my cock deeper as her back arches. My palm glides over her throat, a gently grip that brings her lust-drunk gaze back to mine as I pound inside her. “Mine.” She cries out as she comes, yanking my mouth down to hers so I can swallow the sound. I do, eager and greedy as I drive myself inside her, over and over, deeper and deeper, reaching between us to stroke her clit, pull one more orgasm from her as a shudder rolls down my spine and I empty myself inside her.

Cara pulls my palms to her lips, pressing a kiss there, along with her soft words. “I don’t want you to go away next week. I’m not ready to start saying goodbye to you again.”

“I’m never ready to say goodbye to you, Care. Think about retiring every season just so I don’t have to be away from you.” “You do not,” she scoffs, and the playful way she wiggles her ass against my cock makes me smile, because every moment she’s not feeling like herself makes me hurt for her. “I do. You’re the only thing in this world I love more than hockey, and you win by a fucking landslide.”

“You’re my landslide, Emmett. Everything I thought I knew fell to my feet when our worlds collided. Then we rebuilt a world together, and

I finally understood why good things needed to end so something so much more beautiful could be built in their place.” She grips my hand in hers, and I feel the desperation, right there along with the hope, when she tells me, “I hope we can build something beautiful from this, too.”

“It’s nine in the morning. Don’t you think it’s a little early for Oreos?” Carter looks up from the table in our hotel suite, where he’s currently spreading edible cookie dough on top of an Oreo. He tops it with a second Oreo, then smooshes one of those bite-sized brownies onto it, and—unbelievably—finishes with a third Oreo. “It’s never too early for Oreos, Em.” He

I’m closing the door as a phone vibrates, and Lennon calls out for me. “Em, it’s Care! Want me to get it?” I burst from the bathroom, diving across my bed and grabbing my phone from Lennon’s hand. Everyone piles around me, smiles on as I answer the FaceTime request and pray this bed can hold the weight of six adults, five of whom are bulky professional athletes. “Hi, baby,” I say with a grin as everyone sings out a greeting for Cara. Except she’s on the floor in the hallway, back pressed to the wall, knees pulled to her chest. I slip off the now-quiet bed, walking toward the door as Cara’s red-rimmed eyes rise to mine. My throat knots, my chest pulling taut. I know the answer. I know it by the way my stomach sinks like lead. Yet I still ask. “No?” She shakes her head, a single tear dripping slowly down her cheek, another piece of her heart being torn from her hands.

“No.”

“Happy birthday, baby.” “Happy New Year, firefly. Last year was the best year of my life because I spent it with you. I can’t wait to spend all of them with you.”

I inch along the path of flowers and candles, stepping out of my slippers when I reach the end, feeling the warmth of the blankets below my feet as I stop in front of the fireplace, a final note resting on the mantle. My hands shake as I unfold it, and I laugh despite myself as tears run down my cheeks. Cara, I have so much to say. Endless thoughts I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put into words. I’ve thought about this moment for an entire year, and at the end of the day, what I really want to say is … thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on me. For opening your heart and letting me see it, learn it, and hold it. Taking care of it has been my greatest blessing. Thank you for being willing to go to war for me. For supporting me, seeing me, laughing with me, and crying with me. Because of you, I know what it feels like to be certain someone is always in your corner. Thank you for taking my heart, for holding it gently, and keeping it safe. It’s felt at home every step of the way since I found you. Thank you for showing me what it means to be brave. To be bold. To fight for what you want. I thought I was strong before you, but I know now: I’m strong because of you. I am who I am because of you, Cara. Because you love me in ways I didn’t know existed. Because everything made sense the first time we kissed. Because I found a home in your eyes, your arms, and your heart. Because with your hand in mine, I can breathe. How fucking lucky am I? “Don’t cry, firefly.” The note c...

I make a sound, one part laugh, two parts snort-choke, then take a deep breath. “Go on.” “I’m twenty-eight years old today, Cara, and I swear to God, my life didn’t begin until a year ago, when I met you. All I want to do is keep living it with you. Wake up slow, bask in how lucky, how grateful I am, that yours is the first face I get to see. Make eyes at each other in the bathroom mirror while we brush our teeth. Have coffee side by side at the kitchen counter, our elbows brushing. Laugh with you. Learn with you. Grow with you. Walk out into this world with your hand in mine so I can love you out loud. Crawl into bed with you each night so I can love you quiet.” I slap at the tsunami of tears rushing down my face. Emmett doesn’t bother with his. Instead, he sniffles, opening that velvet ring box, showing me the ring I asked for the day after we met. Three-carat emerald-cut diamond with a hidden halo and pear-shaped accent stones set on white gold. “I went four carats,” he murmurs through his tears. “You’re a four-carat kind of woman.” I bark out a laugh, followed by more tears. “So true.” Emmett pulls the ring from the box with a trembling hand. His eyes come to mine, bright and clear, an unwavering stare that quiets the thundering of my heart, and when he brings the ring to the tip of my finger, his hand is still. “All I want to do is spend this life loving you. Marry me, Cara. Please.”

I’m fucking exhausted, but the most exhausting thing by far? The grief that comes with each failed cycle, month after month, and the way I feel every ounce of hope leave my body. Just for me to manage to find a shred of it again the next month, to latch onto the idea of a miracle, battle against that giddy feeling vibrating through my body with each pregnancy test, like this really might be the time I get that extra pink line. Only to have all that hope torn from my grasp all over again.

“Well?” He waggles his brows. “What do you think?” Jesus fuck, my man is on fire in his deep-green bespoke suit—the way it hugs his thick thighs, stretches across his chest just right. I toss my arms around his neck. “I think I wanna sneak into the changeroom tonight, drop to my knees, and deepthroat your cock before I ride it into oblivion while screaming your name.” A guttural sound rumbles in his chest, and something pokes my belly button as Emmett’s arms tighten around me. He presses me back into the closet, his hand coming up to grip the shelf above my head as his mouth captures mine. He yanks the door closed behind us before pushing his hand into my pants, two fingers sliding effortlessly inside my pussy. “Jesus,” he groans, tearing at his belt buckle.

“Emmett.” I giggle, pushing against him. He circles my clit, and my back arches. “We can’t,” I moan, rocking into him. “Your pussy says differently, firefly.” He drags a hot, wet kiss up my throat, then buries his words against my lips. “Your pussy says you need my cock. Crave it. Beg to be filled with my cum.” He pulls out his cock, swiping it through my folds, an action we both watch through hooded, starved eyes. “I want my cum dripping out of this sweet little cunt while I’m on the ice tonight. Wanna look up at you and know you’re wet. Watch your thighs rub together and know you’re whining about how empty you feel without me.” “Fuuuck.” I toss my head back as he starts pushing inside me, but then— “Wait.” I shake my head, palms on his chest as I push him backward. “We can’t. Today’s the start of five days, remember? You’re not allowed to cum.” Emmett’s brow furrows before he groans. He reaches for me again. “It’s one day. It’ll be okay.” “Em, no.” I giggle, swatting his hand way. “I don’t want to risk it. This is our last IUI. This might be it.” He watches me for a moment before scrubbing his hands down his face. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. You’re right.” He tucks himself back into his pants before zipping up my jeans, gaze downcast and shoulders slumped. I catch his hand as he turns for the door. “Hey. I’m sorry. I wish we could.” His eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to my lips. “Nah, don’t be sorry, firefly. Sometimes all rational thought leaves my head when you’re involved....

He helps me step out of them, taking the panties too, but keeping my heels on. Then he spins me around, pressing my chest to the wall, gripping two handfuls of my ass. He hums his appreciation, a filthy, guttural sound, before he spreads me wide and licks me from behind. “Oh, fuck,” I cry, fingernails digging into the wall as I rock my hips. “Emmett, I want your c—” My words die, right along with my dreams, as I remember what day it is. I toss my head back, squeezing my eyes shut as I cry out with frustration. “Nooo. We can’t have s⁠—” “Don’t care,” he growls, reaching up to fist my hair, pinning me against the wall. His tongue glides through my slit, back to my ass, where he bites the flesh softly between his teeth and pushes two fingers inside me. “The rules say I can’t come, not you. So you’re gonna come, right here on this wall, riding my fingers and my tongue, and then I’m gonna take you upstairs, spread you out on our bed, and enjoy spoiling you within an inch of your life, until you beg me to stop.”

“But—” “No buts. The goddamn cum police put me on timeout again, so I’m gonna make you come for the both of us, sweetheart. That okay with you?” His eyes sparkle with mischief as I look down at him, my cheek pressed to the cool wall as he pumps his fingers in and out, fucking me slowly. My gaze drops to his cock, tenting his pants, and I whimper. “I know,” he murmurs. “Torture, isn’t it? You’ve got such a greedy little cunt, desperate to be filled by my cock, don’t you?” “God, yes.” I ride his fingers, gasping when his thumb presses against my ass. “Yes, yes, yes.” Emmett chuckles, a dark, thrilling sound that sends a shiver down my spine. He pulls his fingers from my pussy, wraps his wet hand around my hip, and buries his face between my legs. “This pussy is fucking magnificent. Gonna spend the rest of my goddamn life devouring it, knowing there’s never been a luckier man.”

He hoists me up to him, legs around his waist, groaning as I drag my mouth up his throat while he carries me upstairs. “I want your cock,” I murmur, flicking my tongue over the shell of his ear. “I want you to force me to my knees. Want your hands in my hair, gripping it tight while you fuck my throat. I want you to tie my hands to the bed and spread my legs so you can take what you want.” “You wanna be my little slut?” he rumbles, pulling my head back. “Is that what you want?” “There’s nothing I want more in this world than to be your good little slut.” I drag my thumb along his lower lip, gathering up the moisture there, the traces of me. I suck it into my mouth before sliding off his body, turning away from him, fluttering my lashes when I glance back at him over my shoulder. “Too bad you can’t come.”

Turning away, I reach for the hem of my shirt, but pause. My feet skid to a stop in the doorway of our bedroom, at the package on my bedside table. “Care? You okay?” Emmett’s stops at my back, hand splayed over my stomach. “Oh, wow. What is that, a lifetime pack?” He laughs, the sound a little uncomfortable. “Kinda psyching me out. I thought you only buy one at a time?” My pulse races. Blood drums in my ears. Because there, waiting for me, is the pregnancy test I asked Natasha to pick up for me at the store. Except instead of one, there are twenty-four.

I don’t cry over the single pink line. No, instead, I hyperventilate and assure Emmett I’m totally fine because it’s still too early and I don’t know why I’m even testing, all while laughing, like a mature, emotionally healthy adult. Then I try to blow Emmett’s mind anyway, even though he convinces me I don’t need to, suggests a walk instead—it’s a beautiful, warm fall day, after all. Except my hands won’t stop trembling as I tug at his clothes, and when I press my lips

to his so he won’t notice the tremor in my chin, he takes my face in his hands, pulling it back. Warm blue eyes move over me, and I’m not sure if it’s his heartache or mine reflected in them. “You’re crying, firefly,” he whispers. I shake my head, choking on a sob as his thumbs swipe at the tears free-falling down my cheeks. “No, I’m not. I’m not, I swear.” A combination, I decide. His heartache and mine, in those eyes I love, the ones that see all. Because one moment I’m standing before him, half naked and trying to distract us both with sex, and the next I’m swept up in his arms, clinging to him as he buries his hand in my hair and I bury my face in his neck, the shake of his shoulders unmistakable as he cries right along with me.

I curl myself over the bathroom counter while I wait for the dye to run through the test, and my heart stops when I bring it to my eyes. “Is that a line?” I whisper, clapping a hand over my gasp. “It’s a second line. Th-th … there’s two lines.” I bring the test closer, convincing myself I see it, the faintest second line, and happy tears run down my cheeks as I tear another test open, submerge the tip in the cup of pee still sitting on the counter for ten seconds before setting it on the ground where I seat myself, legs crossed as I bring up my Pinterest board, the one where I’ve saved all my ideas on how to tell Emmett he’s going to be a dad, finally, after all this time and heartache. I snot all over myself, tears cascading freely as I laugh to myself, the pain already forgotten. And then I look at the second test. And there’s … one line. Only one. “But…” I pick up the first test again, blood pounding in my ears as I search for that second line. The one that was there just five minutes ago, I fucking swear it. “No, because it was right … It was right there. There were two lines. I know there were.” I scramble across the floor, reaching for my phone again. My tears turn angry, the beat of my heart violent and relentless, until it’s all I can hear. The world around me fades away, reduced to two plastic tests and a waiting email as I swipe through my phone, looking for the results I can’t wait for anymore, the ones eating me alive from the inside out. “There were two lines....

I find the email, my eyes tearing through the words, the results. The damnation. “No.” My chest heaves so violently I can’t fucking breathe. Everything hurts, when just a minute ago nothing hurt at all. “No. No. I—I… I saw it. I fucking saw it!” “Cara?” My head snaps up, finding Emmett standing in the doorway of the bathroom, dressed in his suit, shoes still on, eyes roaming over me, the mess on his bathroom floor. “Baby, what’s wrong?” “I—I—I…” My chin trembles as he moves toward me, cautiously, like he’s afraid to scare me. But it’s me who’s afraid. Afraid of a life without him. One that’s never, ever felt like a possibility. Until now. I’ve failed him. Again, in so many ways. Taking the tests, looking at the blood results without him. Not being able to make a baby. Having a worthless fucking uterus that can’t do the one thing it’s supposed to do. I’ve failed him. With quivering hands, I hold the tests up, trying to swallow through the fear, the grief. “I…I did this one, and it…” I show him the first one, pointing at the screen as tears fall harder, faster. “There was a second line. There was, I swear.” I scramble to swap the tests, dropping them both, launching myself across the floor to retrieve them. I hold up the second one, watch as Emmett’s eyes drop to the violent shake in my hand. “So I took another, but it…it didn’t…there was only…” I shake my head, so many tears I can barely see through them as I grip the tests tightly to my chest, fumble for my phone. I hold i...

“Hey, I’m gonna head up. Not hungry.” Adam’s eyes come to mine. “Everything okay?” “Yeah, just wanna see Care. Embryo transfer is in the morning.” I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair. “Hate that I’m not gonna be with her.” Lennon grips my forearm gently, concern flooding her eyes. “How are you holding up? Being away from her while this is going on must be so hard.” “It’s harder than I thought.” I scrape a hand over the nape of my neck, the knotted muscles stiff and sore. “We can’t hit pause just because I’m not in town. We have to keep going, and I’m…” I hang my head, the admission quiet, rough. “Tired. I’m tired, and I hate being tired when I’m not the one loading my body with hormones every day, dragging myself to appointment after appointment, getting bloodwork done a hundred times a month…” I shake my head. “I don’t have a right to be tired.”

Carter shakes his head. “I don’t know how to say this without it coming off shitty, but, buddy, we’re tried.” He gestures around the table, all the faces watching me. “We’re tired just watching you two. Watching everything you’re going through, everything you shouldn’t have to go through.” Adam nods. “The way you’re chasing this with your whole hearts.” “Getting your hopes up just to be knocked down again,” Garrett adds quietly. “Wondering why,” Jaxon murmurs. “Why you two, when you deserve it so much? Wondering when it’ll be your turn.” Lennon looks down at her phone, at a thread of messages between her and the girls—the group chat they’ve lovingly named Coochie Gang: The Chamber of Secrets. Named by my wife, I know, and yet the screen I can see shows that she barely gives more than a one-word answer nowadays. When Lennon looks up at me, it’s with a worry etched so deep in those brown eyes. “Watching our best friends go through something so impossible and just … not knowing how to help.” Her words catch in her throat, and she blinks away tears, looking away as Jaxon’s hand finds her back. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s not about us. We just want to help, and we don’t know how.”

I don’t know how to help either. I used to think just being there was enough. Me, tall and steady at Cara’s side. It’s always been enough, because she’s never needed a knight in shining armor. She always saves herself.

But now … now I feel like I’m standing on the shoreline, watching her drown, and I don’t know how to swim. I don’t know how to save her. I’ll try anyway. Throw myself headfirst into the water and figure it the fuck out. Because I’m not letting her go down. “You do enough,” I tell everyone, the words quiet but certain. “You’re here, day in and day out. We never doubt that.” I shrug, standing and shuffling out of the booth, tossing my jacket over my arm. “I don’t think there’s anything else you can do for us. We just … we have to get through it.” I manage a smile. “I know it might not seem like it right now, but … your presence means more than anything. Texts checking in, missed phone calls, her favorite snacks on the front porch when she’s not up for talking … those are the things that make us feel loved. That remind us we’re not alone. So just … don’t stop. Don’t stop showing up.”

“Firefly.” I grin as her face fills my screen, tired gray-blue eyes looking back at me as I peel back the covers and slip into bed. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, baby,” she whispers into the darkness, and from over three thousand miles away, I feel the way her words kiss my lips, roll down my neck, slide across my collarbone, and press themselves right to my heart. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. “I miss you.” “I miss you so much,” she admits, fingers curling around the blankets she holds to her chest as her gaze slides to her right, where I’m normally wrapped around her. “More than I think I ever have.”

“You’re wearing my hoodie.” Burrowing deeper into my sweater, she dips her nose to the neck of it. “It smells like you.” Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. “Makes me feel like you’re here with me, instead of … not.” Her eyes drop. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Emmett.” My heart skids to a stop. “What?”

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed closed like she regrets the words. “Sorry. Never mind. That was … I don’t know why I said that. I know you have to … that you have to go. I’m just …” She shakes her head again, and I don’t know what kills me more: the fact that she won’t look at me or that she won’t talk to me. “Never mind.” “No, not never mind. Talk to me, Care. What’s going on in your head right now?” She laughs, the exhaustion in it so palpable it scrapes down my chest. “What’s not going on in my head right now? It never stops anymore, just one string of thoughts after another, falling down a hole of worst-case scenarios, until I’m stuck down a fucking well without a ladder, drowning.” She swallows, fiddling with the strings of my hoodie. “Sorry. That was … a lot.” “Don’t ever apologize for telling me how you’re feeling. It’s what we’re supposed to do, confide in each other. You’re safe to do that here.” Sitting up straight, I take a breath, her words rolling around in my head. The embryo transfer is first thing tomorrow morning. It’s our first, and I’m not there with her. She’s nervous, and she’s all alone. Or she feels like it, at least. I watch her pick at the blanket, avoiding my gaze. “Care. Look at me, baby. Talk to me. I’m here.”

“The clinic called today.” I blink. “The clinic?”

She nods. “After lunch.” “But … I thought they only call with updates on day three. Today’s day four, because yesterday was three, and tomorrow is five.” The tears in her eyes drown out the blue, until they overflow. She looks to the ceiling, a desperate attempt to stop them, but they spill down her cheeks like rain anyway. “Baby,” I whisper, my heart cracking in two. “What’s wrong?” “Another embryo arrested. We only have…we only have…” Her chest heaves, up and down, as she struggles to breathe. “Two,” she chokes out. “We only have two viable embryos left, and they were calling because…because…” Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. “Why, baby?” She drags the sleeve of my sweater across her eyes, but it’s no use. The tears aren’t even slowing; they’re sure as fuck not stopping. “They suggested we freeze the embryos and try another egg retrieval at a later date. They told me I should cancel the transfer tomorrow, and fought with me when I told them no. And I … I just really need you, and you’re not here, and I feel so alone, and it’s not your fault, and I…I …” “Cara—” The last thing I see as the phone falls from her hand is the way she buries her face in her hands while she sobs. The last thing I hear before my screen goes blank is the fractured truth she doesn’t want to give voice to.

“I don’t know how to do this w...

“I—” Olivia snaps her mouth shut, brow furrowing as a door slams somewhere beyond this sterile room. She twists, looking toward the sound as voices erupt out in the hallway. “I’m here!” “Emmett?” I rocket up so fast I topple sideways. Olivia barely catches me before I can roll right off the bed and tackle her to the ground with me. “Sir, what are you⁠—” “My wife! I’m here for my wife!” “Excuse me, sir, but you can’t⁠—” “Respectfully, please shut up!” The door flies open, and my heart pounds out of my chest as the frame is filled with my favorite sight: six feet and three inches of broad muscles, wild blue eyes, dark blond hair in perfectly tousled disarray. “I’m here! Fuck, I’m here.” My husband keels over, grasping his knees as his chest heaves. He thumbs over his shoulder. “I ran. From the parking lot. Got the elevator but … some asshole kid … pressed every button. Lit it up like a … goddamn Christmas tree. Ran up”—he pauses to gasp for air—“all six flights.” My body sags, heavy with relief. I breathe in the scent of him as he sweeps me into his arms, painting my neck with kisses. “What are you doing here?” “You said you needed me.” “You came back for me?” “Truthfully? I needed you too.” Emmett takes my face in his hands, pushing my hair off my damp face. “I’m wherever you are,

Cara. Always.” He captures my mouth with his, swallowing my fear, drowning it with his love. Olivia clears her throat. “So, hey…” “Yeah, get outta here.” Emmett doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Thanks for being my wife’s surrogate husband.” He cocks his head. “And stepdad to our em-babies?” Olivia grins, hitting us with two finger guns. “Hey, I’m not the stepdad. I’m the dad who stepped up.” She stops herself, which is definitely for the best, grimacing as she looks at her ridiculous hands. “Oh my God,” she mutters. “I’m turning into Carter. Okay, I’m leaving. Bye.” “Oh, hey, Ollie?” Emmett passes her his credit card. “Can you⁠—” “Do damage control because you just told a nurse to shut up? Yes, I’ll order her a gift basket.” “Thanks. I feel horrible. Something that says I’m deeply sorry but also Don’t get in between me and my wife.” “So, not all that horrible?” He grins. “Nah.” Dr. Brenling snaps his gloves into place as the door shuts behind Olivia. “Can we get started now, or do you anticipate more visitors?” I press my smile to Emmett’s, granting myself a moment to bask in the hope that courses through me, the confidence that settles my bones. Emmett places his hand over my stomach. “Let’s make a baby, baby.”

Garrett throws himself over the back of the couch, cheek propped in his hand. “I made a pillow fort.” Jaxon shoves him to the ground, taking his place. “I made it better.” Olivia, Jennie, Rosie, and Lennon finally disperse, holding up a huge basket. “For you.” Jennie bounces on her toes, clapping excitedly as I peer down at all the small gifts. She points out several pairs of thick, fluffy socks. “Cozy socks to keep your feet warm.” Rosie gestures at an extremely large pineapple. “Pineapple, because the bromelain is anti-inflammatory and increases blood flow, which is thought to help with embryo implantation.” Lennon holds up a carton of McDonald’s fries. “Supersize fries, because salty foods can help with ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome after fertility treatments.” She holds up a large drink. “And a milkshake, just because.” I stare down at the basket, filled with all the ridiculous superstitions that live in the fertility treatment world, unwritten rules that thousands of us follow. Things I had no idea my friends knew about, surrounded by tons of other thoughtful items, like a heating pad covered in pineapples, M&M’s and berry Skittles, a sleep mask that says fuck off, and a mug that says queen of fucking everything. Tears prickle as I pick up a dainty bracelet and run my thumb over the two crystal beads in the center. “One for each of your embryos,” Olivia murmurs. “A symbol of hope. Of a future you’re fighting so hard for.” I clutch the bracelet to my chest, Emmett’...