“Fuck the game. I couldn’t live with myself if I missed the birth of our children. We’re in this together, Ligaya. That’s what matters.”
My phone pings. Coach. I ignore the call.
“What was that?”
“That’s my coach,” I mutter. “Don’t worry about it. How are you feeling?”
“Take the call,” she instructs.
“He can wait. I need to hear you’re OK.”
“I’m more than OK. I’m hanging up now. We’ll talk after.”
Her confident reassurance loosens my chest enough to take in oxygen. I swipe to answer.
“Hey, Coach, I tried your room this morning. I’m sorry I’m leaving, but there’s no way I can be in Seattle while Ligaya’s in the hospital. She’s not to term, and I’m—”
“That’s not why I’m calling,” Coach Zach cuts in, voice stern.
Irritation burns through my nervous system. My voice is steady, though the wordsfuck youtickle my throat.
“Look, Coach, if you want to kick me off the team because I can’t make the game tonight, that’s your prerogative. I’m not getting scolded for being present for the woman I love.”
I’m about to hang up, but then helaughs.
“Slow down, Thorne. No one’s kicking you off the team. I’m calling because the Mavericks’ plane is being fueled up and cleared for takeoff.”
“Why?”
“For you! I’ll send instructions for the right terminal. Be there in twenty minutes.”
My brain stutters. “But how will the team get back tonight?”
“They volunteered to go back home tomorrow. Everyone voted to wait. Go home, and we’ll see you in Columbus.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, son. Be with your family.”
He hangs up. Seconds later, instructions buzz onto my screen.
I sprint through the terminal with an adrenaline-fueled body and hyper-focused intent. I will be with Ligaya in a few hours. That’s all I care about. There aren’t enough trophies in the world to keep me from her and our babies.
CHAPTER 50
LIGAYA
I ease out of my nap with the warmth of a hand enveloping mine. When I open my eyes, Tristan is there, sitting by the hospital bed. His hair’s a mess, his face is drawn, his clothes disheveled. I’ve never been happier to see his gorgeous face.
When I was rushed to the hospital and the doctors reassured me that the babies were stable, I decided not to tell Tristan untilafterthe game. But when he called to announce that he was rushing back immediately, I nearly choked in relief.
“How did you get here so fast?”
“The team plane,” he says simply.
“Oh my god. They did that for you?”
His hand tightens around mine. “How are you feeling?”
