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It was supposed to be one night—not a baby, not a co-parenting pact, and definitely not feelings for the one man my brother would never forgive me for wanting. Foster Davis pitches closers for the Chicago Colts. He’s broody, guarded, allergic to conversation—and somehow the steadiest person in my life the moment everything falls apart. When two pink lines flip my world, Foster doesn’t hesitate. He steps up with a quiet certainty that terrifies me more than the pregnancy test did. We agree to keep it simple. Co-parents. Friends. Nothing that could blow up in our faces. But there’s nothing simple about the way he traces circles on my skin at 3 a.m. Nothing simple about the cracks in his armor that only I get to see. And when a few “lessons” blur every boundary we set—there’s no pretending this is just about the baby anymore. Foster Davis was the risky choice. Falling for him? That’s the freefall I never saw coming.