Chapter 33
MADDOX
“That’s what I’m fucking talking about!”
“Good fucking half my man,” Linc says, patting me on the back.
“Can say the same to you.” Linc is having himself a game today, already catching for sixty yards. It’s like Los Angeles forgot we have one of the best catching tight ends in the league.”
“Now we need to keep the pressure on,” Coach McAvoy says as we all step into the locker room. “Great first half gentleman. But we’re not about to let up now, are we?”
A chorus of “nos” echo off the locker room walls before he continues.
I go to check my phone, because I might’ve been in game mode, but I need to make sure Gabi is okay, when I hear Coach McAvoy stop talking.
My eyes look up to see what’s going on, but I can’t make it to him, instead seeing the woman standing at the door of our locker room.
Sadie Kincaid-McAvoy.
That’s when my heart drops into my stomach.
Coach McAvoy’s wife steps into the locker room, but doesn’t look at her husband. She doesn’t have her normal reporter’s notebook, but she does have a serious look on her face. And it’s pointed straight at me.
“I’ve been told a very specific message to give you Maddox,” Sadie says before she shows a knowing smile. “And that’s to get on the fucking plane.”
It’s a moment of silence before an eruption of applause hits the Fury locker room.
I never told my teammates our code word, because I didn’t think I’d need to, and before I know it, I’m being mobbed by my peers who instinctively knew what the message meant, a few of them throwing out the term “Daddy Gallagher” before I step away.
“Coach? You need me for the next half?”
Coach McAvoy smiles and shakes his head. “Not at all. Congratulations Maddox. Now get home to your family.”
My family… holy shit I’m about to become a father…
I panic and freeze for three seconds before I start tearing off my gear. My teammates give me space as I strip faster than I ever have before. I throw on shorts and a T-shirt because it’s the first thing I see. I don’t even shower. There’s no time for that. I need to get on the fucking plane.
“Fuck! Linc!” I yell out. “I need—”
“Already taken care of brother,” he says as he holds up his phone. “The call has been made. Plane happened to be on the West Coast. It’ll take a bit to get to the private airport, but it’ll still be better than flying back commercial. I’ll text you the address.”
I bring Linc in for a hug, so grateful for him and the family he’s going to one day marry into. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, patting me on the back. “Now get the hell out of here. We have a game to win and you have to go meet your son.”
5:45 p.m. CT /3:45 p.m. PT
Where. The fuck. Is. The God. Damn. Plane!
I’m sitting at the private air strip that Linc told me to go to, my knee bouncing in anticipation as I wait for the arrival.
Yes, I know that I’d be waiting even longer for a commercial flight.
I know this because I looked it up, wanting to make sure.
There’s only one nonstop flight tonight out of L.A.
, and that doesn’t leave for another three hours.
And with the time difference, that doesn’t get me back until closer to midnight.
That’s way too long for me to wait. Sure, I might be waiting now, but from what I quickly researched, private planes travel faster.
Not knowing how long I’ll be waiting, I take my phone out and hit Gabi’s contact. I’ve texted her on my way here, but I still haven’t talked to her. It only rings once before I see her face, and I breathe a little easier.
Emphasis on little.
“Gabrielle…”
Gabi tries to give me a smile, but I can tell she’s grimacing through the pain. “Hi Maddox.”
I see her try and get comfortable in the hospital bed, and someone—I’m assuming Shelby—helps situate the phone so Gabi doesn’t have to hold it.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fantastic,” she says, though her sarcasm isn’t landing.
“Not the time gorgeous.”
Her shoulders slump a bit. “I’m better now. They gave me the epidural. Last night was… rough.”
“Last night?” I bark out, but then immediately feel bad because I don’t want her to think I’m mad at her. Even though I am. A little. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“In my defense, I tried to make her,” Shelby says as she steps in front of the camera. “I want that on record.”
Gabi swats her away. “You’re no help Shelby Lynn. Didn’t you say you were hungry? How about you go find that food.”
“Fine,” she says before stepping in front of the camera again. “Whatever she’s about to tell you, I was Team Maddox in everything.”
“That’s why you’re my favorite.”
“Damn right. Just don’t tell Hannah.” I watch on as Shelby kisses her forehead before I presume she exits the room.
“Now tell me everything. Even if I’m not going to like it.”
And I don’t. Not one word that comes out of her mouth. I hate how much pain she was in. I hate that I wasn’t there for her. I hate that she let her stubborn self take over and waited as long as she did. I hate that I’m not there now.
Seriously, where the fuck is the plane?
“I’m sorry,” she says as a tear falls down her cheek. “I really didn’t think I was in labor. My contractions were—”
“You don’t need to apologize,” I say. “I hate that I left you.”
“And I don’t want you to do that. That’s why I didn’t call until I had to. We didn’t know. I promise it didn’t start until well after you left. They didn’t even start until after I went to sleep. There was no way we knew this was going to happen this quickly.”
I nod and bring down my phone, letting my elbows rest on my legs. “What has the doctor said?”
“That I still have a while,” she says. “She’s keeping me here because I progressed so fast. She wants my water to naturally break, but if the pain continues, and hopefully once you’re back, they’ll break it for me if it’s what’s best for me and Tiny Tot.”
I feel the tear in the corner of my eye. “I’m hurrying back. I promise.”
“I know,” she says. “I love you.”
“I love you. So much.” I look up to see a plane coming down onto the air strip. “I think my ride just got here.”
“Okay. Get back safe.”
“Wild horses, Gabrielle. Wild horses.”
6:30 p.m. CT /4:30 p.m. PT
“Mr. Gallagher? I’m sorry, but we have a problem.”
Of all the words I want to hear from a pilot, those have to be the last ones. “What is it?”
“The plane is grounded.”
“Is it in trouble?” Yes, it’s a bad joke, but if I didn’t crack a joke, I was going to go off on this guy. And that won’t do anyone any good.
“Something like that. It’s the steps that collapse to let you on and off the plane. They’re broke.”
“Broke?”
“Yes, broke. They won’t retract.”
“How did you get down?”
“They weren’t broke then.”
“But they are now?”
“Yes. They’re broke now. We can’t take off.”
“Okay, let’s fix it!” I stand up and clap my hands. “I’m not handy per se, but I can help. How do we fix it and get this plane in the air and off to Nashville.”
His face turns more serious. “We don’t.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you right. Did you say we don’t?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Gallagher. We don’t have the parts needed here since this is a private air strip. I know it seems silly, but it’s a deeper issue I’m seeing. It would take a day for me to get the part I need here.”
“I don’t have a day.”
His shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry. I wish—”
I hold up my hand to him as I grab my duffle bag. “I know you are. And I’m not mad at you. I just need to get to a fucking plane. The love of my life is in labor with our son and—”
“I understand,” he says, typing something into a phone. “Mr. Matthews, the owner of the plane, normally uses a car service that isn’t located too far from here. Let me call you a ride to the airport.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I snapped.”
He finishes typing in his message. “Don’t apologize. Let’s get you back to Nashville.”
From his mouth to God’s ears.
7:45 p.m. CT /5:45 p.m. PT
“I’m sorry sir, I can’t help you.”
I shake my head at the ticket counter agent, who’s sporting a spectacular mustache, because I had to have heard him wrong. Yes, I know that when I searched on my phone on the drive over that I couldn’t find a flight, but I assumed that was a user operator error. Surely, he has to have something.
“You can’t help me? As in you’re going on break and I can move one window down?”
“No. As in, I can’t help you get you back to Nashville tonight.”
“Can someone help me get back to Nashville tonight?”
“No sir. No one can.”
I don’t want to scream, but it’s out of my lungs before I can swallow it back. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! This is fucking LAX. A huge fucking airport. How are there no flights tonight to Nashville?”
“I’m sorry sir. There’s nothing direct for the rest of the night.”
“What about with a stop?”
He looks, but his face isn’t hopeful. “There are, but with the time difference and layovers, you wouldn’t be there until morning.”
I take a breath, because I know this guy doesn’t make the plane schedules, but you’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now.
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that my girlfriend is in labor with my son and I really need to get home.”
It’s at that moment that Captain Mustache realizes the emblem on my warm-up jacket. “You’re Maddox Gallagher!”
“I am. What’s your name?”
“Pete.”
“Nice to meet you Pete. Now how close can you get me to Nashville before midnight. I don’t know how long I have.”
8:20 p.m. CT /6:20 p.m. PT
“You’re flying where?”
“Memphis,” I say to Gabi as I sit down at the gate. “It was the best Pete could do.”
“Who’s Pete?” she says through a wince.
“The gate agent. Helpful guy after I yelled at him. Don’t worry. I apologized.”
My humor isn’t doing much for Gabi now, who still looks miserable as I FaceTime her to keep her up to date on the change of plans.
“Would it be quicker if you waited on the team now?” she asks. “They have to be leaving soon, right?”
“I thought about that but no. I’m boarding in ten minutes, and the team plane doesn’t leave for another hour and a half. It always has a late call in case we go into overtime.”
Gabi takes in a deep breath, and slowly lets it out, and a stab of pain hits me in the chest. I should be there with her. Holding her hand. Getting her ice chips. Rubbing her back. Dancing and singing like an idiot to take her mind off the labor. Whatever she wants. I should be there.
But no, I’m sitting in an airport hundreds of miles away, before I drive another three hours to get to her.
My estimated time of arrival right now is after three in the morning in Nashville.
It’s not as quick as I wanted, and I’m praying to every God I’ve ever heard of that I get back to her in time.
“Shelby still with you?”
She nods. “She went to grab some snacks and drinks for the overnight shift.”
“And Beau?”
“I sent him home. He was on call to come get you from the airport, but I guess that’s not needed now. Wait! How are you getting here from Memphis?”
“I’ll rent a car,” I say. “Shit. I hope someone is even working at the rental car counter since it’ll be after midnight by the time we de-board.”
“Did you say Memphis?” I recognize Ainsley’s voice before she comes into the frame of the FaceTime. “My brother is there on business. He can give you a ride back.”
“Ainsley, that’s nice, but—”
She’s texting before I have the words out of my mouth. “But nothing. You’ve never met my brother, but he’s the world’s biggest Fury fan. He also likes fixing things and being the hero. When I tell him that he needs to drive you to the birth of your child? He’ll change every plan he has to help.”
“He doesn’t have to do that.”
“Too late,” she says, putting down her phone. “I texted you his phone number. Keep him in the loop. Doesn’t matter what time your plane lands, he’ll be there, bells on, and willing to drive ninety miles an hour to get you back to Nashville.”
I’m so glad Linc ran into Ainsley at this very hospital. Because damn she’s one of the good ones. “Thank you Ainsley.”
“This is what friends do,” she says. “Now, I’ll take care of everyone here. You get back. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Now beginning to board, flight 383 from Los Angeles to Memphis.
“Text me before you take off,” Gabi says. “I love you.”
“Love you more,” I say as I stand up and grab my backpack. “I’ll be there before you know it.”