Chapter 88

The morning felt different than the last one. Different in a good way. Bellamy noticed it from the second he woke up, because unlike yesterday, he wasn't lying in that bed alone. He had his girl in his arms, and she had her head and her hands on his chest. Seemed like she was still sleeping.

So pretty, Bellamy thought, glad that she was the sight that was starting out his day. Clarke never thought she looked that good in the morning, but she did. She always did.

He'd been so careful not to move, but she must have felt a difference in the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed or something, because she stirred a bit and let out a quiet, "Hey."

"Hey," he said back, clasping her hand with his own. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I was only halfway sleeping," she said, though she kept her eyes closed and remained snuggled with him. "You're comfy."

He'd always enjoyed being her human pillow. Sure,, there were nights when it was too hot or they were too restless and cuddling wasn't in the cards for them, but it felt good to fall asleep holding her, and to wake up doing the same. "This is better than yesterday morning," he said, letting his eyes fall closed again, too, just in case they might be able to fall back asleep for a while.

"Well, it's gonna be a better day," she declared.

He hoped she really believed that and wasn't just saying it to try to make him feel good. Surely waking up like this had to feel better to her, too.

That day, they both decided that they wouldn't talk about everything that was going on with Finn. They would just spend time together and time with Avery. Family stuff. First, they took her out on the beach and played with her in the sand. She still didn't have much bodily control, so they had to prop her up, but she giggled when Clarke sprinkled some sand on her legs, and she seemed to like the feel of the water lapping at her little feet.

After that, they took her inside and gave her a bath. Bellamy couldn't help but marvel at the fact that doing something so simple was one of his favorite things in the whole world. Back when he was younger, he never would have thought that he'd enjoy this so much, but he did. The look on her face as she sat in her little flower tub, warm water drizzling steadily onto her, just made everything light up for him. She loved her baths.

That night, Clarke fell asleep next to him in the bed watching TV, and Avery dozed atop him. With his wife curled up into his side and his daughter drooling on his chest, he felt a feeling of utter contentedness. He didn't even have to be doing anything to just be happy with them. It made him wonder why he'd ever wasted time with anything else. Because to him, this was the dream.

...

What a fucking nightmare the day was shaping up to be. First, Bellamy had slept in, so he'd missed two classes, one of which had a professor with a stick up his ass who would surely chew him out for it and hold it against him for the rest of the semester. Then he'd dropped his phone while scrambling to get ready and at least get to class for the last fifteen minutes, so now the damn screen had a huge crack in it, and he'd probably end up having to shell out money for a new one. And, of course, lingering in the back of his mind constantly was his unbelievable fuck-up with Gina. He'd tried calling and texting her the past few days, but she wasn't responding. And he couldn't blame her. Still, though, he wanted to have a conversation with her. He needed to.

On a day when he knew he'd find her in the tutoring center, he ventured in, found her helping some girl on what appeared to be an essay, and marched right up to her. "Gina," he said. "Can we talk?"

She barely glance at him and dismissively answered, "I'm working."

If she didn't give him the chance to apologize to her, to try to set things right somehow, he was just gonna keep feeling like shit. Back in high school, he'd never felt all that guilty about sleeping with multiple girls, because everyone had known he wasn't the type to settle down. But now that he'd finally fucking grown up a little, the guilt he felt over this was unbearable.

"Do you have a couple minutes?" he practically begged.

"Not for you," she muttered.

"Please."

"It's fine," the girl who she was assisting assured her. "I think I can take it from here."

Gina obviously didn't want to have to talk to him. Her whole body stiffened, and she growled, "Fine. Three minutes. Three minutes for you to try to make yourself feel better."

"That's not what I'm trying to do," he denied, following her away from the students. Although . . .

"Isn't it?" she challenged. "You don't really care about me. You've made that perfectly clear."

"No, I do." Maybe he was trying to alleviate his own guilt, but apologizing to her might make her feel better about things, too, so it was a win-win.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it," she snarled. "Just tell me one thing: Why me? God knows you've got plenty of girls on this campus who would be willing to sleep with you. Or any football player, for that matter."

She was right. He did. Lots of the guys on the team did. In fact, he was one of the only ones who wasn't hooking up with a different girl almost every single night.

"So why use me?" she asked again.

His gut answer—that she'd just been there and been willing—wasn't going to make her feel any better, so he didn't say it. "I didn't mean to . . . use you," he said.

She rolled her eyes.

"I didn't," he insisted. "Look, that night, I was . . . I wasn't thinking. I was upset about something back home, and-"

"What?" she cut in.

"Huh?"

"What were you upset about?"

He thought back to that picture of Clarke with Wells, and it seemed so stupid to be jealous about it now. She'd just been standing next to him. In a group photo. She was living her life, being a junior in high school. What else was she supposed to do? "It's nothing," he said, trying to downplay it.

"Oh, well, clearly it's something, and I deserve to know."

Maybe she deserved it, but did she really want to know? He sure as hell didn't want to tell her, because it was going to make him seem like an even bigger jackass than he'd already been to her. But if there was one thing he owed her now, it was honesty, so he sucked it up and told her, "There's a girl back home who I used to date, and . . . I just started to feel like she was moving on, and it fucked me up. So I tried to move on, too."

Tears started to form in her eyes, and her bottom lip shook as though she were trying to keep from crying. "So it really didn't even have anything to do with me then, huh?" she said. "I was just . . . convenient? God, that's even worse."

"I feel horrible," he said. "I wanna make it up to you."

"You can't," she said.

"I know, but . . . you don't deserve to be anyone's rebound." Gina was a great girl, and she deserved a guy who would treat her like . . . well, like a princess.

"You're right," she said, blinking her tears back. "I do deserve better than you. Which is why this is the last conversation we're gonna have."

He'd assumed as much, because it'd be pretty hard to still be friends after something like this. He'd miss the friendship he had with her, though. He kept people at a distance here, but she was the one he'd grown closest to. Those guys on the team . . . they weren't real friends, and she was.

"I will get over this, Bellamy, in time," she said. "I'll probably even forgive you. But I don't wanna talk to you anymore. I don't want anything to do with you."

Where did that leave him then? She was the one who made sure he stayed on top of everything in his classes. She was the one who'd been keeping him grounded while Brady and all those guys walked around campus acting like they were gods. He didn't wanna end up like them. "We can still be friends," he told her, just wanting to give her that option.

"No, we can't," she said, shaking her head. "Because you don't really care about me. You only care about . . . her. Whoever she is." Sadly, she turned and walked away, and it felt . . . very final. Like this was truly the last conversation they were going to have. And he couldn't even think of anything else to say, because now all he was doing was thinking about Clarke again. Saying that he cared about Clarke was . . . a massive understatement. Gina didn't know anything about the 'her' she was referring to. But he was beginning to realize that Clarke Griffin, quite possibly, was the love of his life.

...

Bellamy woke up that morning not to the sound of his alarm or his baby crying, but to the sound of Clarke talking quietly on her phone.

"Okay," she was saying. "Okay, thanks for letting us know."

He rolled over onto his back, yawned, and asked, "What was that?"

"Um, Pike's secretary," she said, setting her phone back down on the nightstand. "He's sick. We have to postpone today's meeting."

You gotta be fucking kidding me, he thought, looking up at the ceiling, frustrated as hell.

"Hey, it's okay," she said, reaching over to put one hand on his chest. "We don't wanna be around someone who's sick and then get Avery sick, too."

"I just feel like we don't have any time to waste," he said. "When's it gonna be now, tomorrow?"

"Maybe. She didn't say. I'm sure we're not the only clients they need to reschedule."

"Yeah, but we need to be high priority," he said. "Did you tell her that? Did you explain what's going on?"

"She knows."

He glanced over at his phone, thinking he might call Pike's office himself just to stress how soon this meeting needed to happen.

"Look, we just have to stay calm," she said, lying back down beside him. "Like we were yesterday. Yesterday was a good day, right?"

He managed to relax a little as she draped one of her legs over his and wrapped one arm over his stomach. "It was a great day," he agreed.

"And today can be a great day, too."

It could be, even though they both had some errands to run and he had an afternoon practice scheduled. He could still make sure he was able to spend some time with both of his girls. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he said, not sure how she was managing to keep herself calm and keep him calm, too. It was a lot to ask of her, and he actually felt kind of bad for not being stronger. Once this was all over, though, he wasn't gonna be like this anymore, and she wouldn't have to keep being strong for both of them.

...

Madi came by that afternoon for her first official music lesson, and she decided to start out on the piano. The plan was to learn a little piano and a little guitar, and then after a couple months of practicing both, she could see which one she liked better and start focusing on that. Or that was her parents' plan, at least. Madi made it clear that she was only doing this because they were making her, because they wanted her to have a creative hobby in her life.

"Okay, play those chords again," Clarke told her after they'd learned a few of the basics.

Madi positioned her fingers on the keys and pressed down, cringing when it made an incorrect sound.

"Nope, your finger should be here," Clarke said, repositioning her pinky finger for her.

"Oh." Madi pressed the keys down again, smiling a bit when it made a much more pleasing sound.

"Yeah, that sounds better, doesn't it?"

"Lots." She played that chord again, then switched to another one. It took her a few seconds to get her fingers arranged just right, but she did it. The girl was a quick learner.

Unfortunately, the piano wasn't the only thing making sounds. Clarke heard a telltale gurgle from Avery in her nursery and just knew that she was about to start crying. She was already up and on her feet when it began. "Okay, keep working on those," she told Madi. "I'm gonna go check on her."

"Kay." Madi kept switching back and forth between the chords she'd been taught, very concentrated and focused. It kind of looked like she was actually enjoying herself.

Clarke shut the door to the nursery once she was inside and scooped her baby up out of the crib. "Oh, sweetie, I know you want attention," she said, gently patting her back, hoping that she was just gassy and not hungry. "But don't you know Mommy's trying to work? With her one and only student."

Avery just kept crying. Despite being a pretty angelic kid all in all, she had her moments like these from time to time.

Eventually, Clarke was able to get her to burp, and her crying let up a bit, but when she tried to place her back down in the crib, she squirmed and kicked her legs as much as she could, wanting none of that. So Clarke lifted her up again and brought her out to Madi and the piano. "Sorry, she's being fussy," she said, sitting back down on the chair next to the piano bench. She put Avery in her lap and suggested, "Maybe your playing can soothe her."

Madi snorted. "Doubt it." Still, she kept pressing those chords down, alternating pretty seamlessly now.

"That sounds good," Clarke told her. "Look at you go. You got it now."

"Getting better," Madi said modestly. She struck Clarke as the type of kid who was hard on herself. If she wasn't great at something right from the start, it just fueled her to improve.

"I think you might be a natural," Clarke told her. Although selfishly, if Madi was a natural at the guitar, too, and decided she wanted to focus on that instead, she'd be fine with it, because she felt so much more confident in her guitar abilities.

Madi took her hands off the piano and looked over at Avery, half-smiling as she remarked, "She's really cute."

"Thanks." Cutest baby in the world, as far as Clarke was concerned. Although she was definitely biased.

"What's her name?" Madi asked.

"Avery."

"That's pretty," Madi said. "I hate my name."

"Why?" Clarke asked her. "It's so popular."

"That's why I hate it. In school, there's three Madis in my class, and they're all spelled differently, too, so whenever my teacher writes my name on something, she always spells it wrong," her student explained. "And whenever anyone talks about us, it's like, 'Maddie F., Madi S., Maddy J.'" She made a face and mumbled, "I can't stand Maddy J."

"Yeah, I never had to deal with that," Clarke said. Although when she was younger, she'd had plenty of kids tease her about having a 'boy name.' "Neither did my husband."

"Bellamy, right?" Madi said. "That's a cool name."

"Yeah," she agreed. It was definitely unique, but it suited him.

"Where is he anyway?" Madi asked.

"At football practice," she replied.

"Is he a good coach?"

"Oh, yeah." She'd observed a few practices over the past couple months, and even to her untrained eye, it just looked like the team was getting better. "And he's an even better dad. Isn't that right, Avery?" She bounced her daughter up and down gently, glad that the crying seemed to have faded completely now.

Madi smiled at the baby again, then put her hands back on the piano, taking a moment to arrange her fingers on the correct keys. "She looks a lot like you," she commented. "She doesn't really look like him, though."

Clarke's whole body stiffened. Even though she knew Madi didn't mean anything bad by that, it made her feel bad. And she was so glad Bellamy wasn't around to hear it. But someday, he would be. Someday, someone would make that same sort of comment, not even realizing that they were being insensitive.

"Let's hear those chords again," she said quickly, determined not to dwell on it as she shifted the focus back to the piano lesson.

...

The more Bellamy watched the backups, who were mainly freshmen and sophomores, the more convinced he became that those were the guys who needed to make up the majority of his starting lineup by the time the first game rolled around in August. Unlike the upperclassmen, they were actually willing to work hard and make changes. Either those juniors and seniors were just complacent, or they'd had so many years of bad coaching that they just couldn't change the way they played to be more effective. He had the guys play a quick scrimmage at the end of the practice, and even though the backups didn't win, they got really close, closer than they should've.

After practice, the sophomore quarterback, Spencer, came up to him and asked, "Am I gettin' any better?"

"Yeah," Bellamy readily replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm not bull-shittin' you. You're gettin' a better read on the defense, you're arm's gettin' stronger. Good job."

Spencer seemed happy to hear that. He said, "Thanks," and to his credit, he didn't press Bellamy on if he was in the running to be the starter. But Bellamy knew that he was.

"Go shower off," he told the kid. "You stink."

Spencer chuckled and trotted off after the rest of the guys, leaving Bellamy alone out on the field. Miller had had to leave early for his other job, so he didn't have anyone to run a few laps with. So he took off on his own, not sure if he'd just do two laps or if he'd try for a quick mile.

The first lap was typical enough. He pushed his own pace, treating it more like a long sprint. But by the time he started the second lap, even though his body was still holding up fine, his mind started to drift. No longer was he thinking about putting one foot in front of the other. His own thoughts and worries started to attack him, each one of them centered on Finn Collins. He thought back to confronting Finn at the hospital, not allowing him to come inside to see the baby. He thought about blowing up at him the other day in his failed attempt to be Clarke's knight in shining armor. What if everything he'd done so far with that guy had been a mistake?

When he got to the third lap, his thoughts turned into fears. He found himself picturing Finn with Avery, holding her, playing with her, giving her a bath. Everything that he was doing, he pictured Finn doing it instead. He couldn't get those fears out of his mind. They were wedged so far in there that he felt his heart start to pound, and it started to get harder for him to breathe. Even though he only had one lap left for a mile, he called it quits at the end of the third one, bending down to put his hands on his knees as he gasped for air. Even though he'd stopped running, for some reason, he still felt like he couldn't catch his breath. His heart was beating so fast, he thought he might be having a heart attack.

Get it together, he told himself, closing his eyes as he pictured himself with Avery instead. Just him and his daughter. His daughter.

Gradually, his breathing started to return to normal, and his heartrate steadied out. He stood up straight, put his hands behind his head, and took in labored breaths that only felt like the result of his running now. Not . . . whatever that had been.

After leaving the school that afternoon, he decided to stop by Octavia's place. Just because he still felt kind of on edge, and he wanted to calm down further before returning home. He told her about what had happened, nonchalantly, because chances were, it was a one-time thing, no big deal. He couldn't tell if she was really listening or only sort of listening, because she was sitting at her kitchen table painting her nails.

"So have you ever had that happen before," he asked her, "where you just feel like you can't catch your breath?"

"Yeah," she said. But then she tacked on mischievous grin and added, "But not because of running."

"Don't." He really didn't need to become sick to his stomach on top of everything else.

"What can I say?" She shrugged proudly. "Lincoln really knows how to-"

"I don't wanna hear it," he cut her off.

"Fine, fine," she sighed. "Relax. You probably just overheated."

"No, I don't think so." It hadn't even been very hot out today. "Maybe I just pushed myself too hard."

"Maybe," she agreed. "You're not as young as you used to be. Old man."

He couldn't even throw a teasing insult back at her, because he was so fucking tense. "It was just weird," he said, feeling like he was working hard to convince himself that it was no big deal than he was to convince her.

"Well, sometimes people can't breathe when they have panic attacks," she said.

"Yeah, but I wasn't panicking." Yeah, he'd been thinking about shit, but . . . not panicking.

"You said you've been feeling stressed, though," she noted. "So maybe that's it."

"What, like anxiety?"

"Yeah. Lots of people have it."

"I don't," he denied.

"Maybe you do," she said. "Didn't Mom take medicine for that when we were kids?"

"I don't know." She'd been a single parent, supporting two rambunctious children on a limited income. It wouldn't surprise him if she'd popped some pills to deal with stuff.

"You should talk to her about it," his sister suggested.

"No, it's fine. It passed." Talking about it would probably just make it worse and more likely to happen again. And he didn't want that.

"Well, then at least talk to Clarke," Octavia said. "Tell her what happened today. She'd wanna know."

Yeah, she probably would, but . . . Bellamy didn't exactly like the thought of burdening her with even more of his issues. She was already doing so much to help him work through how he was feeling. Why should she have to do even more?

After leaving Octavia's, he headed straight home, and just like something straight out of a Hallmark movie, Clarke came to the door to greet him, a big smile on her face.

"Hey, babe," he said, reaching out for her.

"Hey." She put her hands on his chest and gave him a quick kiss.

"You seem like you're in a good mood," he remarked.

"I am. Madi's piano lesson went well. She said she actually kind of enjoyed it."

"That's good."

"Yeah. And I talked to my dad. So that was nice."

She had a good day, he thought. That was what they'd talked about first thing in the morning, how it was going to be a good day. And it had been. For her.

"What about you?" she asked. "How are you doing?"

Not the best, he thought. But he didn't wanna put that on her and ruin the day she had. So he lied. "Good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, good." He thought he sounded pretty convincing. "I even got my own workout in. So now . . . maybe I can give you a workout."

"Mmm," she purred, sliding her hands down to his abs. "I like the sound of that." She pressed her body into his and tilted her head back, going in for another kiss. He gladly kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and scrunching up her shirt in the back. Together, they stumbled back inside the house, and he kicked the door shut behind him, hoping things were going to escalate all the way. Sex with Clarke would make him feel breathless all over again. But in a good way this time.