Chapter 33 Matt
THIRTY-THREE
MATT
Game days aren’t supposed to start with dialysis.
At least we’re playing at home today, which means I don’t have to pretend to feel great on a plane ride.
But here I am, stepping into the Armadillos’ facility, still feeling the faint buzz in my veins while the stadium hums awake around me, die-hard fans filing in three hours early.
Sutton set up a meet-and-greet for season ticket holders.
The locker room smells like sweat, tape, and anticipation. Whistles echo. Rookies stretch. Veterans move with the easy confidence of men who know where they belong.
Greyson drops into the chair beside me. “You alive?”
“Barely,” I say. “But I think that’s just game-day nerves.” I don’t say how exhausted I feel.
J.D. flops down on my other side. “So how many hours of sleep are you getting now that you live with a pregnant woman?”
I snort. “Define sleep.”
“That bad already?” J.D. asks.
“She woke me up at three a.m. because she dreamed she ate all the deviled eggs and felt guilty about it,” I deadpan. “Then she actually needed more.”
Greyson laughs. “That tracks.”
J.D. adds, “Birdie reorganized our entire kitchen at two in the morning when she was pregnant. Said she shouldn’t eat cookies, so she woke me up and made me put them in the highest cabinet.
Then the next day I catch her on a ladder trying to get them down and she’s really pregnant.
We argued about her falling. Trust me. You can’t win an argument against a pregnant wife…
or girlfriend.” It sounds weird coming out of his mouth.
“Wait till the baby needs formula and a clean diaper,” Greyson mutters. “You better jump right up.”
J.D. agrees as he takes off his Armadillo hat and runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Did you ever think game-day conversations would turn into comparing pregnancy stories?”
I glance between them. “It wasn’t too long ago that none of us wanted to be here.” I look between them. J.D. was pushed into taking the head coaching role, Greyson got traded, and I needed a coaching job in Austin to be close to my doctor.
Greyson says, “Tragic.”
J.D. grins. “It’s weird how one day changes the trajectory of your life. I was in Denver, playing for the Vegas Dice, and went out with G and the Denver crew. That’s the night I met Birdie, and now we have a family.”
“Is she here today?”
“No, she’s doing two concerts this weekend. Granny went with her to take care of Henley. She’ll be back tomorrow night, so it’s only one night without them.” J.D. seems conflicted.
Greyson’s smile fades just a touch as he looks at me. “Hey.” He hesitates, then claps a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for making our sister happy.”
I blink, caught off guard.
“We’ve never seen her like this,” J.D. adds quietly. “Not really.”
Greyson nods. “She pretended to be happy with Brooks. We all smiled. Played the part. But it wasn’t real. There was no chemistry between them.”
“And he disrespected her. We should’ve kicked his ass a long time ago,” J.D. mutters.
Greyson smirks. “I still might.”
I swallow around the sudden tightness in my throat. “She deserves better.”
“She does,” Greyson says. “And for the record… we’re glad it’s you.”
They have no idea how much their support means to me. How disappointing them was the last thing I wanted to do, but as it turns out, they just want their sister to be loved the way she deserves.
Out on the field, quarterback warmups begin, and suddenly it’s all motion, muscle, and focus. Whistles cut through the air. Cleats pound the turf. The Armadillo offense looks sharp—hungry.
I step out onto the sideline, headset in place, my heart pounding with something that feels dangerously close to hope.
Then I look up into the stands.
Noelle is in the front row, wearing my Austin Armadillos hat, the one with just the mascot. She’s in love with that little guy. It makes me wonder if we’re having a boy or girl.
We? Not her?
Our eyes meet. She smiles—soft, proud, just for me—and something in my chest tightens, not with pain, but with something brighter.
For a moment, everything else disappears.
No dialysis.
No fear.
Not the ticking clock in my head.
Just her.
And for the first time in a long time, standing on the sideline of a game I love with the woman I love in the stands, I realize I need to fight harder and don’t want to die. I want to be here long term for this spunky, gorgeous, loving woman and her baby.
Maybe true love will overcome, like in fairy tales.