Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
THEO
“Blue, eighteen! Blue, eighteen! Hut! Hut!”
The ball is snapped, and the Cyclones’ receivers shoot off the line.
We’re in cover two zone defense, which means it’s my job to not only cover my zone, but also to help push the receivers toward the middle of the field so the safeties can defend the pass more effectively. So far, it isn’t going well.
The Renegades offense got off to a good start today, scoring the first points of the game on the opening drive.
Maddox was able to find a hole on third down, sneaking right into the end zone on a nine-yard quarterback keeper.
But the defense hasn’t been able to find their groove yet, which is why we’re down by ten with about a minute to go in the first half.
I’m able to funnel my guy inward, keeping my eyes on the quarterback while he reads the field.
He checks the opposite flat, not finding an open receiver as he scans the middle, his gaze locking onto the tight end who’s been knocking me around all day.
He’s bigger, taller, and stronger than I am, but I’ve got one thing he doesn’t.
Speed.
As soon as the ball leaves the quarterback’s hands, I take off, my feet pounding against the turf.
I’ve timed it perfectly, angling myself so I can swoop in and disrupt the play.
It’s third and long—thanks to a big sack on the last down—and they aren’t in field goal range, so we don’t need anything fancy here.
If we can prevent them from moving more than fifteen yards, they’ll have to punt, giving Maddox and the offense another chance to knot things up before halftime.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins with every stride, heavy breaths pushing through my mouthguard as I give it everything I have.
But it’s not good enough as I dive, narrowly missing the ball with my fingertips as it hits the Cyclones’ tight end right in the hands.
The safeties are there to make the tackle, ending the drive two yards short of a first down… absolutely no thanks to me.
I sigh in frustration, tearing my helmet off as soon as I’m on the sideline.
No matter how hard I try to focus, my goddamn mind is all over the place.
I know shit at home is really heavy, but if I don’t find a way to push it aside—at least for the next couple of hours—I’m going to let my teammates down when they need me the most.
But fuck. I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’ve had a weird pit in my stomach all day, starting the moment I woke up in the hotel this morning.
I texted Sydney twice to have her check in on Finley.
She assured me that she was fine and that she had all but bullied her to get out of the house.
It eased my mind for a while, but now it’s back, and I can’t seem to concentrate on anything else.
“You almost had it, man,” my safety, Drake Francis, says.
I respond with a noncommittal shrug as he slaps my shoulder.
We both know I could’ve had that interception with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back on a normal day.
I’m just completely fucked up, and it’s going to cost us a shot at the Super Bowl.
The offense moves the ball down the field, eating up about forty yards in less than thirty seconds.
Emmett is having a hell of a game, with eight receptions on nine targets already.
At this rate, he’ll easily break the Renegades’ record—that he set himself last season.
That’s the funny thing about being a second-year expansion team.
We’re quite literally blazing a whole new trail, setting the tone for generations of players to come.
Maddox hands the ball off to our running back, and he finds a hole in the defense, blasting toward the end zone.
I hold my breath, my heart hammering inside my chest. But before I can watch him break the plane into the end zone, a very loud feminine voice shouts my name from somewhere in the distance.
“Theo! Oh my God, Theo!”
I turn, my eyes scanning the sideline until Sydney shoves her way through a group of men.
Two security guards are hot on her tail, but she doesn’t give a fuck as she rushes toward me.
Her expression is panicked, which immediately causes me to go on high alert because what the fuck is she doing down here?
Only players, staff, and certain members of the media are allowed near the field during a game, and even though she’s the owner’s daughter, she doesn’t have the credentials.
“Theo!” She waves her arms frantically, her chest heaving with heavy breaths as she runs.
“Syd,” I say, eating up the space between us as fast as I can. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Finley,” she replies, gasping for air. “She’s in labor.”
Fuck.
My blood runs cold, head spinning as everything around me begins to sound muffled and warped.
I vaguely register the guards grabbing her by the arms, watching helplessly as they attempt to remove her from the sideline.
She twists from their grip, yelling something about having them fired if they don’t get their hands off her, but I’m frozen where I stand.
It’s only when she wraps her fingers around my forearm that I snap back to awareness, her words returning to full volume as she speaks.
“We have to go! Now!”
I swallow, nodding my head like an idiot while everything sinks in.
Finley is in labor.
She’s having the baby.
I have to get to her.
“Let’s go,” I murmur, still not really sure what’s going on. It doesn’t matter, though. Syd can fill me in on the details while we’re en route. I can’t miss the birth of my daughter.
Without a single word to anyone, we’re gone in a flash, bolting down the tunnel as fast as our feet will carry us.
It’s quite possible that I just fucked my entire career by leaving in the middle of a game, but I don’t give a shit.
Some things in life are bigger than football, and this is one of them.
“Come on,” she says, the sound of my cleats and her combat boots echoing off the cement walls.
“I’ve got a car waiting to take us to the airport.
I had the equipment manager grab everything from your cubby in the locker room, so you’ll have that.
Livvy said she’ll have Maddox get your luggage after the game. ”
“Finley?” I choke out, unable to focus on anything besides her in this moment. Is she okay? Is she alone? Will someone call her doctor? I have a million questions, none of which I can articulate with the way my mind is reeling.
“She’s good. She’s at the hospital now,” she replies, leading me toward the player exit, where a black car awaits. I let Syd climb in first, following closely behind—pads, uniform, and all—as I settle into the seat.
“What happened?” I ask. “Did you talk to her?”
She shakes her head, looking out the window as the driver takes off toward the highway.
“No. She ran into an old friend at the coffee shop, and he rushed her to the hospital. She was in a lot of pain, but he had the good sense to dial the last number on her call log, which was me. He was adamant about me getting the baby’s dad to her, so that’s what I’m doing. ”
An old friend? Who?
I know this isn’t the time to be jealous that another man is with Fin while she’s in labor, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.
I should’ve trusted my gut this morning and gone to her, regardless of the consequences.
I could have gotten kicked off the team, but at least I’d be there to hold her hand.
Sydney’s phone rings, her dad’s name and photo flashing across the screen.
He’s probably calling to find out why she stormed onto the field, took his cornerback in the middle of a playoff game, and left.
I’m sure I’ll be punished for it—anything from a suspension to being released from the Renegades, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
I just hope she doesn’t get in trouble for any of it.
“Hey, Dad,” she says in greeting, and I expect to hear his booming voice bleeding through the line.
Mr. Grant is known to be a great man, and he’s definitely an amazing team owner, but I can’t imagine he’s very happy right now.
The longer the conversation goes on, however, the more surprised—and confused—I am by what I hear.
“Yeah, I have him. We’re on our way to the airport now.”
She pauses for a moment, listening to her father speak and nodding her head as though he can see it. “So, it’s ready to go? Do I need to tell them anything, or did you already talk to the pilot?”
Another long pause.
“I will. I’ll see you guys later tonight, then. Love you.”
She hangs up and tosses the device back into her purse just as we pull around to the backside of the airport.
Confused, I look back and forth between the window and her, my mouth opening and closing several times, but no words come out.
I have no fucking clue what’s going on, but with Sydney, that’s par for the course.
“Is that the team plane?” I ask, even more perplexed as my mind tries to make sense of everything. My teammates and I arrived on that exact jet yesterday, just as we always do when we play on the road. But the game is still going on, and the guys aren’t here, so why the fuck are we?
“Yep,” she replies. “We’re hijacking it.”
My eyes go wide, rivaling the size of the tires on this goddamn car. “What?” I squeak, my tone about seventeen octaves higher than normal. She’s crazy if she thinks we’re stealing a plane to get back to Cleveland. I’d at least like a chance at keeping my job, thank you very much.
“Oh my God, you should see your face,” she chuckles. “Relax, big guy. My dad knows we’re taking it. He set everything up.”
“He did?” I croak, emotion tightening my throat. “Why?”
She looks at me, one shoulder lifting into a shrug.
“Because he’s a dad, and he knows how important it is to be there for every milestone.
As soon as I got the call that Fin was in labor, he was on the phone, making arrangements.
” A smirk pulls at one corner of her mouth.
“To be clear, I’d have stolen the jet if I had to, but thankfully, he took care of it. ”
I make a mental note to thank Mr. Grant profusely for facilitating this entire thing.
I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it back to Cleveland before the baby was born.
There’s no guarantee that I’m not already too late, but at least I’m on my way.
I just want to be by Fin’s side, telling her how amazing she is…
and how much I love her. No matter what the future looks like for us, those two things will always remain true.
We jump out of the car at record speed, ascending the stairs and buckling into our seats as fast as we can.
It takes a while for a runway to open up for us, so I use the time to reply to the texts from my mom and sister, letting them know why I left the game and promising to keep them updated.
They offer to jump on the next flight out of Savannah, but I tell them to hold off because I don’t want to make that decision without Finley’s approval.
She may not even want me there, seeing as how she was the one who left, and I certainly don’t have the right to bring more people in if she’s not on board with that.
After what seems like hours, but actually isn’t, we’re in the air.
The captain tells us that we’ll be landing at Cleveland Hopkins International in roughly ninety minutes.
Although it’ll be cold as balls when we get there, it’s clear skies ahead for the entire journey, which I’m grateful for.
Because I need to get to my girls as soon as possible and do whatever it takes to bring them back home where they belong.