Chapter 10

Eight Months Pregnant

Paige hated losing.

Everyone who knew her knew that.

She hated it quietly.

Internally.

The kind of hatred that sat heavy in her chest long after everyone else had moved on.

Tonight’s loss felt worse than usual.

The final buzzer had echoed through the arena nearly an hour ago, yet Paige could still replay every mistake in her head perfectly.

The missed rotation.

The rushed shot.

The turnover late in the fourth quarter.

Her teammates had tried to stop her from spiraling before she even left the locker room.

“It wasn’t all on you,” Aaliyah had said firmly.

“We win together and lose together,” Azzi added.

Even Geno had stepped in eventually.

“You’re not carrying this by yourself.”

Paige had nodded.

Pretended to listen.

Pretended to believe them.

But the truth was she couldn’t stop blaming herself.

Because that’s who she’d always been.

The person who took responsibility for everything.

Even things that weren’t fully hers to carry.

Especially now.

Basketball mattered to her.

It always would.

But lately, every mistake felt amplified.

Because now she wasn’t just playing for herself anymore.

Now she had a family waiting at home.

A wife.

A daughter who would be here in only a few short weeks.

And somehow that made her emotions feel bigger.

Heavier.

The drive back to the apartment was quiet.

No music.

No podcasts.

Just Paige gripping the steering wheel while the loss replayed endlessly in her head.

By the time she finally unlocked the apartment door, it was after midnight.

The apartment was dark except for the dim kitchen light you’d left on for her.

Paige’s chest tightened immediately.

You always did that.

Even when exhausted.

Especially now at eight months pregnant.

She quietly slipped off her shoes and set her bag down near the door.

The exhaustion hit her all at once.

Physical.

Mental.

Emotional.

She should shower.

Should change clothes.

Should probably eat something.

Instead, she headed straight for the bedroom.

The door creaked softly as she pushed it open.

And there you were.

Asleep.

Curled onto your side beneath the blankets.

One hand resting protectively beneath your stomach.

The sight alone made something inside her loosen.

The tightness in her chest easing for the first time all night.

Paige stood there quietly for a moment.

Just looking at you.

At the rise and fall of your breathing.

At the soft curve of your stomach beneath the blankets.

At the woman she’d loved since she was sixteen years old.

Home.

That was the only word for it.

Home.

Careful not to wake you, Paige climbed onto the bed still dressed in her UConn sweats.

The mattress shifted slightly beneath her weight.

You stirred faintly but didn’t wake.

Paige moved closer immediately.

Like instinct.

Like muscle memory.

She wrapped herself carefully around you from behind, mindful of your stomach, before burying her face gently into your neck.

And instantly-

Everything slowed down.

The noise in her head quieted.

The frustration.

The guilt.

The replaying of every mistake.

It all faded beneath the warmth of you.

Paige closed her eyes.

Breathing you in slowly.

Laundry detergent.

Your shampoo.

Something uniquely you that always calmed her down without fail.

Her arm slid carefully across your waist.

Hand resting lightly against your stomach.

Against Maya.

The baby shifted faintly beneath her touch.

Paige’s heart softened immediately.

“Hey, baby girl,” she whispered quietly.

Whether she meant you or the baby, even she wasn’t sure.

Probably both.

You stirred slightly in your sleep.

A small sleepy sound escaping you as you unconsciously moved closer.

Paige felt her throat tighten.

Because somehow, even asleep, you still reached for her.

Still found her.

Still made room for her.

She focused on your breathing after that.

Slow.

Steady.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The rhythm grounded her.

Pulled her out of her own head.

Because lying here beside you reminded her of something important.

Basketball wasn’t everything.

Losing hurt.

It always would.

But this?

This mattered more.

You mattered more.

Maya mattered more.

Paige gently pressed a kiss against the back of your neck.

Then another against your shoulder.

Her eyes finally grew heavy.

The loss still hurt.

She’d still wake up tomorrow thinking about it.

Still watch film.

Still push herself harder at practice.

That part of her would never disappear.

But right now?

Right now she was exactly where she needed to be.

Wrapped around her wife.

Listening to the quiet breathing of the woman carrying their daughter.

And for the first time since the final buzzer sounded, Paige could finally breathe again.