The Coaching Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 4)

“I will.”

“Night, Anabelle.” He yanks a knit cap out of his pockets, pulling it down on his head. Snarls at Elliot, bumping his broad shoulder as he passes, stepping down onto the sidewalk. “Deuces, douchebag.”

I give him an embarrassed, feeble wave. “Bye.”

He walks backward down the sidewalk, facing the house, calling out to me in the frigid cold. “I’ll be back in two weeks. I’ll message you while I’m gone.”

Another wave. “Drive safe.”

It’s freezing and our warm breaths mingle with the frigid air, tension-filled puffs wafting into the night. I can’t stop my chest from rising and falling, breathing hard from the shock of seeing Elliot on the concrete steps of the house.

I drag my eyes off the road, off the taillights of Rex Gunderson’s retreating vehicle to Elliot’s, afraid of what I’ll see there.

“I know it’s not my place to ask, but what the hell was that?”

He’s right—it really is not his place. Not anymore, not after he left without any declarations or commitments toward me.

“That was Rex.” I’m deliberately being obtuse.

“Clearly.” He pauses, tone laced with irritation. “What was he doing here?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Just friends. You expect me to buy that bullshit?”

I throw my hands up, too tired to argue, too excited to see him. He’s big and strapping and finally—FINALLY—standing on my doorstep, just as I’ve dreamed about hundreds of times.

“Elliot, I’m really glad to see you, but if all you want to do is argue about my friendship with Gunderson, then you’ve come to the wrong place.” I swallow the lump in my throat before tears threaten to spill. “Besides, I thought you’d go home to your parents when you came back.”

“No. I came straight here.” He swallows a lump, too. “This was where I wanted to be.”

At his feet sit two huge duffel bags I don’t recognize, large, full duffels that look nothing like overnight bags. They’re big, overstuffed, made for travel.

“What is all this? You’re only home for a few weeks, this seems…excessive.”

“I left school, Anabelle. I packed up my shit and left.”

“What do you mean?” I swear my breath hitches, breathlessly anticipating what he’s about to say. Hopeful but wary. Excited but cautious. Guilty.

“I quit. Done. Dropped out—whatever words you want to assign to it. I withdrew.”

“Elliot, we talked about this.” I cannot keep the nerves out of my voice. Why would he drop out of school and come back to Iowa when he hates it here? When he was so sure Michigan was the best school for him? For his future?

“I wanted to Anabelle. This has been eating me up inside. You have no fucking idea—none. I missed you like crazy before I even moved there, and there was no fucking way I was going to stay in Michigan knowing you’re here doing this pregnancy thing on your own. No fucking way.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Can I come in?” He bounces on the balls of his feet, blowing on his hands though they’re covered with big, black mittens. “It’s cold as balls out here.”

Elliot

As soon as Anabelle closes the door behind me, drops the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and I see that baby bump…

I drop to my knees, coming face to face with her pregnant belly. Place my hands on either side of it, smoothing my palms over the stretched cotton of her long-sleeved navy T-shirt.

“Oh my God, look at you.” I don’t know what to say next; the sight of her isn’t what I was expecting. This Anabelle is ethereal and gorgeous—not that she wasn’t before—and glowing. Everything about her is calming and serene, and it’s no wonder Rex Gunderson is sniffing around.

She’s never looked more beautiful than she does now.

She’s sent me photos of herself and I follow her on Instagram, but photographs and the reality of it are two completely different things.

It’s surreal.

It’s beautiful.

“I’m huge.” She reddens, dipping her face to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks and down her neck. “It’s embarrassing going to class now if you want to know the truth.”

I rise to my feet.

“My mom said you looked great.” She wasn’t kidding. “She gushes about you—my sisters call you Baby Mama, but it’s just to give me shit about not being married and having a kid out of wedlock.”

“I love your sisters.”

“They’re pretty fucking cool.” And now that they’ve officially met the girl I knocked up, have discovered Anabelle is not a grasping, irresponsible, sleazy party girl, they’re actually pretty damn excited to have a new niece or nephew. Thank fucking God because my sisters can be assholes when they’re not happy or don’t like someone. Together, when presenting a united front, they have made grown men cry; I can’t imagine what they’d do with a female they loathed, especially one who made me a father at the age of twenty-two.

“Is your roommate home?”

“No, she went home. She actually packed up and is coming back for her boxes when she gets back from break.”

Good.

“What do you mean, good?”

“Shit—did I say that out loud?”

She laughs, and it’s the first time I’ve heard the sound since one of our FaceTime chats—and we haven’t done one of those in weeks.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because we’re going to need that room.”

“Elliot…” Her pale hands cover the expanse of her stomach, delicate fingers spanning over her belly button protectively.

“I know what you’re thinking—you don’t want to get your hopes up. I’ve left twice already. I get that, okay? I understand why you’re scared, but I’m not going anywhere this time, and if you want, I’ll sleep in your old room until you’re comfortable having me back—or forever, I don’t care. I just want to be here for you.”

“How? You need to be in school.”

“After I left last time and told my parents, the three of us talked. I don’t know if my mom told you, but we worked out a plan. I applied here, just in case—and just got my acceptance. One semester at Michigan in the bag. Packed my shit. Kissed my loud neighbor’s ass goodbye, and here I am.”

“Here.”

“Here to stay. For good.”

Her twinkly little laugh cannot disguise her nerves. “God Elliot, how much have I cost you in furniture in the past year?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here—I’m just sorry it took so long.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you for not coming back—I really wouldn’t have. I understand why you need Michigan, and I can’t ask you to give up the best program for kinesiology for me. I can’t and won’t.”

My head goes back and forth, and I choose my words carefully.

“You know…every night I was alone in the miserable apartment. Every night I came home and sat there alone. Ate alone. Did homework alone. Ran alone. It sucked. And do you know why?”

She shakes her head no, feebly, eyes wide.

“Yes, you do. Even surrounded by people, I was alone because I wasn’t with you. I would haven’t lasted a year, with or without this baby, Anabelle. I would have been back for you regardless.”

“Stop it.” Her nose sniffs.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to make me cry.”

“Anabelle. I don’t know what to say to you. If you—” I gulp. “If you want me to step aside so you can see other people, I’ll do that because I love you. I want you to be happy and I’ve put you through enough already this year, but I also want you to know I want to try.”

“Elliot—”

“Would you let me finish? I’ve had almost seven hours in the car with nothing to do but think this through, think about you and this baby. It’s a fucking miracle I was able to finish this last semester, Anabelle. I have no idea how to be a dad, but mine is pretty fucking great, and so is yours—that right there is an automatic win for us.”