Josephine
Three Years Later
“Go! Go! Go!”
I scream at the top of my lungs, wrapping Emilia in a side hug as we cheer on Kendrick’s team from our suite.
The chains are officially in the red zone, thanks to K’s nine-yard gain.
I hold my breath and abuse my bottom lip with my teeth while I wait for the next play.
“Sit. Down,” Kylian hisses in my ear, the words jolting me back to reality.
I sigh but obey. I know better than to argue with him. I just get so wrapped up in watching Kendrick play.
“Did you just get in trouble, Hot Girl?” With a grin, Nicky kneads the spot on my low back that’s been bothering me.
“Technically you got me in trouble, Emo Boy. Your enormous genes helped create this massive baby.”
I’m thirty-four weeks pregnant today and am on modified pelvic rest. Our baby is a boy, and Nicky is his biological dad.
I’m supposed to stay off my feet as much as possible due to the size of this baby. My hips burn by the end of each day, and my cervix is already thinning. Avoiding injury and staying pregnant are the key objectives for the next several weeks.
That’s what I get for procreating with a massive, meaty hunk of man.
I lean into Nicky’s frame and savor the feel of being in his arms.
I would never admit it out loud, but I’m grateful our first baby is his. All my guys will be amazing dads, but Nicky just has a way about him. He’s so good with kids, and he’s fully committed to being the kind of parent neither one of us had.
It’s poetic. Healing the inner child through parenthood. Together, he and I are breaking the cycle of generational trauma. I can’t wait to see him thrive as a father, or, as he’s decided he wants to be called, Papa Bear.
Getting the guys on board with my presence here today was on par with how intense I expect labor to be, but since the Cougars were playing at home, against Decker’s team at that, I wore them down—strategically and individually.
Kylian stands in the corner of the suite, wearing a concerned, intense scowl. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I doubt I’ll be allowed on my feet again for the rest of the day.
Jade and Emilia are here with friends, and their dad is with us today, too.
I swear Ken Taylor is almost as excited to be a grandpa as his son is to become a dad.
Just the thought of next season, when we’re all together again, and I’ve got our son in my lap wearing his number 24 Taylor jersey, makes me weepy. I can’t even wrap my head around the joy this baby will bring to this family.
I’m so lost in the visions forming in my mind that I miss the snap.
“Yes!” Emilia screams as she jumps up and down with Jade. “Go, go, go!” the girls shout.
Dammit. I can’t see a damn thing sitting down. I peer over at Kylian, then at Locke. They’re both distracted by the game, so I slowly rise to my feet again. Just in time to see number 24 dive into the end zone for the touchdown.
Heart leaping in my chest, I let out a little squeal.
I’m lowering myself back to my seat when a booming voice echoes through the room. “Why isn’t she sitting?”
Kylian snaps up straight and homes in on me as my bum hovers a few inches off the seat.
“Jo,” he exclaims, exasperated.
Shit on a crumbly cracker.
I plop unceremoniously back into my chair, then quirk one brow over my shoulder as my husband strides into the suite.
He looks good in his crisp black polo and headset. Damn good.
Pregnancy makes me hungry all the time. It also makes me horny.
“Hi, Coach,” I singsong.
Decker scowls in reply. He rounds the seats, and when he’s before me, he crouches low. “You know you’re not supposed to be on your feet. You promised you would behave, Siren.”
He places his palms on my upper thighs, smoothing over the scratchy fabric of my maternity jeans. I wish I could throw these suckers in the lake most days, but I do appreciate the way the stretchy waistband panel accommodates all the stadium snacks I’ve indulged in this afternoon.
“You’re a buzzkill,” I accuse.
“I am your partner, and I love you,” he counters. Then, softer he adds, “I just want what’s best for you and the baby, Siren. You know that.”
“Kendrick scored a touchdown,” I reason.
“Believe me,” Decker chortles. “I know.”
I fight back a grin. Decker’s team is probably going to lose to the South Carolina Cougars today, and we both know it. It won’t be the first time Kendrick’s team has come out on top. In fact, the Cougars have beat Atlanta four years in a row now, much to Decker’s chagrin.
“What if you stand behind me? I could lean against you. That way, I wouldn’t be bearing all my own weight.”
“Josephine…”
“Decker,” I mock.
“I only have a few minutes.” Relenting, he rises to his feet and hauls me up to standing.
Once I’m steady, I wrap my arms around his shoulders the best I can and give him a quick kiss. “I don’t need a few minutes, Coach. All I need is one.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “One minute, huh?”
We situate ourselves so Decker is holding me from behind and supporting my weight. Special teams are on the field now as his team prepares to take possession. How he was able to sneak up here, I have no idea.
Caressing his fingers, I crane back to look him in the eye. “Do you miss it?”
“Every damn day,” he replies with a sigh.
I ghost my fingers over the backs of his hands, silently honoring his loss and appreciating the vulnerability he shows me without hesitation. Decker loves football. He was made for this game. Although he finds joy in coaching, I know his heart still yearns to be on the field.
“Do you regret it?”
He sacrificed so much. For me. For our family. I love our life, and he does too. His life now, though, doesn’t look anything like the dreams he once held.
“Not even for one second,” he says, his tone strong, confident. “It was never going to be just football. I realize that now. My name… my dad’s legacy… I never would have been in a position to just play the game. There would always be strings attached.”
I sigh, acknowledging the truth behind his wisdom.
“Besides… this?” He brushes our joined hands over my belly. “This life is so much fuller and richer than anything I let myself dream of before you. All of this is so fucking worth it.”
I melt into his confession, but quickly stiffen when he goes rigid behind me.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs. “Hell yes!”
We watch with bated breath as one of his receivers flies down the field… farther… faster… and runs into the end zone for a ninety-five-yard touchdown on the kickoff return.
Decker spins me around, kisses me quickly, flips the mic of his headset down, and guides me back to my seat.
“Watch her,” he hollers to Kylian as he gives me one more peck. “I love you, Siren,” he declares, “but I’ve gotta go. We’re not out of this game yet!”
I grin at the sight of him sprinting from the room.
My smile widens even more as I play back his words in my mind: so fucking worth it.