Chapter 17
The night before a game, I would’ve typically stayed at my townhouse. Since my family was in town and I needed silence to mentally prepare, I chose to stay at the hotel.
I did my morning routine—brushed my teeth, washed my face, and showered. Then I threw on a jogging suit from one of my sponsors and headed to the conference room for breakfast. Kew met me at the door.
He, Woodson, McKissick, and I ate in relative silence.
Breakfast was where the four of us usually shot the shit, joked around, and kicked it.
But from time to time we had quiet game days.
If the game was particularly significant for the franchise, we got serious.
We all understood the importance of getting the win.
It wasn’t our normal vibe, but it was unfamiliar.
All of our positions were expected to make big plays that could potentially change the course of a game.
We all handled the pressure differently, but being quiet before an important game was something we had in common.
After breakfast, a quick team meeting, and the pre-game meal, we loaded the buses and headed to the stadium.
For me, the bus ride from Hickory Hall to Corporal Field was all about my phone.
I listened to my hype songs while I scrolled through social media.
For some reason, the first thing to pop up on my timeline was a post from Wyndi. It was several pictures with captions.
I couldn’t stop the smile from overtaking my face when I saw the first picture. It was a shot of Wyndi. She had her shirt up a little, showing her bare belly. She captioned it, Just me and my little baby bump. I didn’t waste a second hearting the post.
The second picture showed a blinged-out Coyotes baby onesie.
When’d she have time to do that? I wondered.
The onesie featured a number, but it was blurred.
It took everything in me not to comment.
The shit was so fucking adorable, and I could imagine the pretty baby girl who kept coming to me in my dreams wearing it at one of my games.
That caption read, Future Coyotes Fan. It’s football season and step-daddy season.
The next picture was clearly done with some type of software, but it was still dope.
It showed the field goal uprights inside the stadium.
Under the uprights sat a football and shoes.
Anybody who paid attention to the picture would notice that the shoes didn’t match.
One was a kicker’s cleat, the other was a regular cleat.
Anybody in the know would understand that those shoes represented my position.
I grinned my ass off. The caption read, The stadium is his second home. His heart is my second home.
The final picture was of her wearing a jersey that was blinged out in the exact same manner as the onesie. She grinned at the camera, looking beautiful as hell. The caption read, To you know who, your family will be rooting you on. Get that W for us!
I knew that she noticed that I had been feeling some kind of way.
I didn’t want to leave her alone. I just honestly didn’t really see how things were going to work if she couldn’t stop hiding and ghosting me every time things got tough.
I hadn’t been pulling away from her, but I damn sure hadn’t been all in.
She noticed. I knew she was fucked up about it, too.
I wanted to reassure her, but how could I when I wasn’t even sure anymore myself.
While I hoped that she wouldn’t pull her disappearing act again, I knew for a fact that if she did, I was out. For good.
Her posting this little montage for me, making us public, .
. . even if she was doing it cryptically, I knew what it meant.
I knew that it meant that she was ready to stop hiding.
It meant that she was ready to face the questions and the possible judgment that might come regarding us.
I fucked with it. The thought of that made me smile.
Kew, who was seated next to me, was apparently looking at the same post. “You and your girl are internet official now?” He whispered the question.
“We weren’t,” I admitted. “I was like her secret side dude. I guess she’s ready to come outta the closet.”
“And she’s pregnant?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re the stepdaddy?”
“It’s stepdaddy season.”
“Shit!” he whisper-yelled. “Is Wilcox the real daddy?”
I looked over at him with a serious expression before responding in a whisper. “I’m the real daddy.”
Kew threw up his hands. “You know what I’m asking, motherfucka. Does the baby have Wilcox DNA?”
“Yeah.” I sighed.
“Oh shit! So, she’s Ciara, and you’re Russell Wilson?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“What does his bitch ass have to say about you playing daddy to his kid?”
“Nothing. He told her to get rid of the baby and hasn’t looked back.”
“Yo, don’t look now, but that nigga seems to have just realized that she’s still pregnant. He’s mugging the shit outta his phone.”
“Fuck him.” I shrugged.
After a comeback from a seven-point deficit, we were able to pull out the win.
An interception by Kew that turned into a touchdown and a forty-seven-yard field goal by me helped take us over the top.
The entire team went into the locker room on a high.
As soon as I got to my locker, the first thing I did was pull out my phone.
Wyndi stayed on my mind the whole game. I wanted to look at the pictures on her post again.
As soon as I opened my phone, I was flooded with text messages. The one that stood out the most was from my mother.
Ma:
When you get finished in the locker room, we’ll meet you in the tunnel, step-daddy. Oh yeah, your girl is here.
Me:
She showed up to suite with Nana in there?
A few moments later, her response came through.
Ma:
Initially, no. She was in the stands. In the nosebleed section. She bought her own ticket. But I told her that if I had to come down there and get her, she wasn’t going to like it. LOL. So, she came up and spent the second half with us. Meet us in the suite.
That shocked the hell out of me. I put a little pep in my step so I could get out there.
I stripped out of my uniform and tossed it in the laundry bin as I made my way to the showers.
Once I was clean and dressed, I hollered at Kew, McKissick, and Woodson, then headed toward the exit.
I walked past Wilcox, sitting quietly at his locker by himself.
He looked over at me as I passed. When he realized it was me, he gave me a death stare.
I laughed in response and kept walking. He was the dumbass that fumbled her, not me.
I took my time getting to the suite. When I got there, I greeted my family. My grandfather got a hug.
“Did you enjoy your birthday, Pops?” I asked him as we hugged.
“I did, Grandson. Thanks for doing this.” He pulled me tighter. “Kaynaan, forgive your grandmother. I know she doesn’t always say or do the right things, but—”
“Still making excuses for her.” I shook my head. “She’s like, seventy something years old, Pops. When you gon’ let her suffer the consequences of her actions?”
He eyed me. “Never, if I can help it. That’s my wife.
Despite any and all of her flaws, I love that woman.
It’s my job to protect her.” He lowered his voice.
“Even when she fucks up. If you plan to love that pretty little girl that’s over there wearing your jersey for as long as I’ve loved Georgia, .
. . you’re gonna have to learn to do the same.
You tell her she’s wrong, but you don’t let nobody hurt her. Not even yourself.”
His words hit me in the heart, because even though my grandmother had her issues, my Pops was as solid as they came. When he gave advice, he dropped knowledge. I knew my girl was hurting. And I knew I was the reason she was hurting.
“Fix things with your grandmother, then fix things with your girl. I don’t want her baking my great grandbaby in a cesspool of worry and sadness.”
“Pops, about that—”
He waved me off. “Your brother-in-law showed me the post.”
Shiloh’s husband had always been a little bitch who did everything he could to get close to my grandfather. Little did he know, he would never have any part in Grand Aviation beyond being upper management. He would never be an executive, so all his posturing was for nothing.
“I know what a stepdaddy is, and I recognized from the images that she was referring to you.” Pops took a beat. “If this is your child, then it’s my great grand. All that other shit doesn’t matter. In this family, we don’t believe in steps; we believe in love.”
“Tell it to your wife.”
“I did. Now, worry about your own woman.”
“Me and Nana aren’t gonna be able to just sweep this under the rug. We’re gonna have to have a talk.”
He nodded agreeably. “That sounds productive. But in the interim, speak to your grandmother. Don’t give her the cold shoulder. She’s well aware that she’s in the doghouse with you. She doesn’t need you to treat her badly.”
I didn’t have it in me to give my grandmother the cold shoulder. I loved that lady. I was just pissed with her at the moment. I walked over to her. “What’s up, Nana?” I threw my arm around her shoulder.
She leaned into me. “Hey, Grandson. You played a really good game. I was proud of you.”
I kissed her on the forehead. “Thanks. Hey Nana, can we do a late lunch tomorrow before y’all head back to Londynville?”
“Why do I feel like this isn’t a social lunch?”
“Because we really need to talk.”
She sighed. “Call me tomorrow and let me know the time and the place.”
I kissed her again. “Cool.”
I finally made my way over to Wyndi, who was sitting in the corner by herself. She was in her phone.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
I took in the jersey she was wearing. “When did you have time to make that?”
She gave me a small smile. “I worked on it all day Thursday and Friday.”
“When did you decide to come to the game?”
“Wednesday, right after the doctor’s appointment. Kaynaan—”
I placed my pointer finger close to her lips. “I don’t wanna talk here. Let’s go to—”
“Can we go to your place? It’s so much nicer than mine.”
I cocked my head to the side. “It’s professionally decorated, but it doesn’t have any heart. It’s bland.”
“With amenities. Bland with amenities.”
I couldn’t help smiling at her. “Yeah, let’s just get outta here. I’m tired as hell.”