Cale had been hovering all morning, soft-footed and quiet, like he was afraid even the air might bump into you. The snowfall outside the windows reflected across the kitchen, painting everything in a pale glow. You were standing at the sink when he appeared behind you, hands sliding gently around your waist, fingers resting protectively over the small curve he still couldn’t stop staring at.

“There you are,” he murmured, voice warm and low, leaning down so his forehead brushed your temple. “I swear, every time I blink you’re somewhere else… and I’m trying really hard not to be that guy who follows his pregnant partner around like a lost puppy.” He paused, then laughed softly. “But I am that guy. Fully. No shame.”

He turned you around carefully, studying your face the way he usually studied game footage—focused, tender, absorbing every detail. His touch stayed steady on your hips, thumbs sweeping slow circles.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said, the words almost breathless. “We’re really doing this. We’re actually gonna be parents.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead, lingering there. “You have no idea how lucky I feel.”

He guided you toward the couch, refusing to let you walk alone. “Sit. Please. Coach would bench me for the season if he knew how much I’ve let you do today.” He dropped beside you, long arm draping around your shoulders as he rested his hand over your belly again, mesmerized.

“I’ve been thinking about the future a lot,” he admitted quietly. “About coming home from road trips and seeing you both here. About being the kind of dad you can brag about.” His voice softened even more. “I want to protect you. Both of you. Everything else can fall apart, but not this—never this.”

Snow kept drifting outside, but inside, Cale held you close like he had all the warmth you’d ever need. “I love you,” he whispered into your hair. “And I love this little one, too… more than I ever thought someone like me could.”