Hoops Holiday (Hoops 2.50)

Eight. Seven.

“Yup.” I turn her back into the shelf and cage her with my elbows on either side of her shoulders. “Trapping you in here was part of my evil plan to kiss you at midnight with no one watching.”

Six. Five.

She laughs, eyes bright and a flush of excitement on her cheeks.

“Well, it worked,” she says.

Four. Three.

I cup her face and lower my head, savoring the last few seconds of the year we’re leaving behind and the one that’s ahead with the only woman I adore.

“Jared, I have something to tell you,” she whispers over my lips.

Two.

“I’m pregnant.”

One.

She tips up and takes my mouth with hers, kissing me deeply as her words penetrate my consciousness. On instinct, I kiss her back, loving the feel of her, the intimacy of her touch, even while my lips go numb with the shock of what I think she said.

I force myself to break our kiss.

“Ban, what’d you say? I thought you said you’re—”

“Pregnant,” she repeats softly, a wide smile stretching the same-size lips I’ve never been able to resist. “You know my period is kind of sporadic because of the PCOS, so my cycle isn’t my best gauge, but I was a little late and decided to take the test. I was bracing myself to be disappointed, but I wasn’t. I’m pregnant.”

She actually giggles. My Banner, who never giggles, is giddy.

“Maybe that’s why I’ve been so emotional,” she goes on, the words tripping from her lips in a rush. “I hope it passes. I can’t go through nine months like that.”

Shock paralyzes me for a full five seconds before something else floods every cell of my body. I have no idea what to name this emotion. I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s akin to the love I have for Banner, but doubled, tripled, multiplied. Exponential.

“Are you . . .” Her smile dims. Her arms drop from my neck and she swallows, her eyes never leaving my face. “You’re not . . . are you not happy?”

She slides along the shelf and away from me, and the rush of cool air her absence brings jolts me out of this mute state of idiocy.

“God, yes, Ban.” I snatch her back and wrap my arms all the way around her and lift until her feet leave the floor.

“Jared!” she screeches. “Put me down. I’m too heavy.”

“No, you’re not.” I shift my arms under her ass, and she rests her elbows on my shoulders, presses her forehead to mine. “I’m gonna be better, Ban. I promise.”

“What?” She draws back just enough to glance down at me. “Better than what?”

“A better man.” I swallow the knot of emotion burning my throat. “I can be better. For our baby, I’ll try to . . .”

Shit, I don’t even know where to start. My dad was an amazing father. And August fell right into raising Sarai like it was a bike he’d ridden a thousand times, and he was just climbing back on. He’ll be perfect for the second baby, too. And Zo’s kid hit the lottery having a patron saint for a father. But my poor kid? Who the hell all knows what I’ll do? How I’ll screw it up.

Banner slides down my body until she’s back on her feet. She reaches up, taking my face between her hands and forcing my eyes to meet hers.

“There’s no one else I want to do this with, Foster,” she says, eyes glassed with tears. “Our little girl is gonna be so badass.”

A chuckle rumbles in my chest at her words, even though I’m still not sure I can do this shit.

“And our little boy will—”