Chapter 31
It turns out my priorities have terrible timing.
Nolan
Excitement flows through me as I jog back to formation. Terri’s here. She’s no longer hiding from our relationship. No longer claiming our only connection is the little mermaid. She realizes what’s between us is more than us having a baby together.
We’re a couple, too. She’s just as important to me as our little mermaid.
It’s taken a lot of effort to get her this far.
I don’t mind the effort. I’m used to working hard for what I want.
And, considering her past, I don’t blame her one bit for being cautious.
Especially considering I’m an NFL player who won’t be around as much as she needs.
Not when I have a team to lead to the Super Bowl.
She faced her fears and came to practice. I’m so fucking proud of her. I thought she’d lose her mind when Lamar mentioned the group chat. But she seemed okay. Dazed but okay. She didn’t run away.
Things are going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. More than okay.
Lamar slaps my shoulder. I have to brace myself before I stumble. The center weighs three hundred pounds and often forgets his own strength. At least he slapped my good shoulder.
“Good to see you finally settling down.”
“What are you? My mom?”
“Nah.” He smirks. “I’m prettier than your mom.”
I launch myself at him but Brock steps in my way. “No.”
“But he made fun of my mom.”
Lamar chuckles. “This is fun. Our always steady quarterback is finally showing signs of life.”
“Usually he’s such a fuddy duddy,” Tanner adds.
I point at him. “Just because I’m not an idiot who’s always getting in trouble doesn’t make me a fuddy duddy.”
He clasps his chest. “Me? In trouble? Nah, dude, I’ve changed my ways.”
“In other words, he’s pretending to be good to impress Alaia,” Gage says.
Tanner rolls his eyes. “Don’t be jealous just because Addy isn’t impressed by you.”
Gage grins. “Don’t you worry. Addy is plenty impressed by me.”
Lamar shakes his head. “What the hell is in the water in Smuggler’s Hideaway? Has the entire offensive team fallen in love?”
Silence falls and his eyes widen. “I was joking. Even Brock and Corbin?”
Brock growls. “Nope.”
He’s delusional. I’ve seen the way his face gets soft when May’s name is mentioned. It’s the same way he looks when he thinks about his son. The guy is hooked. He’s just scared.
“We’re not discussing me,” Corbin adds.
“How about we discuss how he’s living with his landlady?” Tanner suggests.
Corbin glares at him. “Are you spying on me again?”
“It’s not spying when you’re friends.”
“It is—"
A whistle blows. Coach Knox fists his hands on his hips. “If you’re done gossiping, we have practice.”
I slam my helmet on my head. “Yes, coach.”
“Whatever you say, Coach Cha-Cha!” Tanner salutes him.
Coach Knox blows the whistle again. "Let’s go!"
The offense resets. I clap my hands. "Blue eighty! Blue eighty! Set!"
The ball slaps into my hands. I drop back. Tanner breaks left. Corbin cuts across the middle. Gage cuts toward the sideline before breaking back inside.
I plant and throw. Fire explodes through my shoulder. My pass sails anyway. Perfect spiral. Right into Tanner's hands.
The guys cheer. But I barely hear them. Because my shoulder is screaming. Again.
I breathe through the pain and glance toward the stands. Terri is laughing while Charlie is gesturing wildly with his hands. One hand rests on her stomach. It’s a completely unconscious move. Protective and natural as if she’s already a mom.
The pain fades away, and a strange calm settles over me. For years, I've been terrified of the day football ends. Terrified of who I'd be without it. Terrified of becoming my father. Terrified of losing the thing I've spent my entire life chasing.
But watching Terri laugh in the stands...watching her protect our little mermaid without even realizing she's doing it...for the first time in my life, I can picture a future that doesn't start with football.
My shoulder isn’t getting better. At some point, I have to stop pretending and start playing it forward.
Coach Knox blows the whistle again. "Allen!"
I turn back to the field. To the game I love. The game that's given me everything. For the first time, it doesn't feel like enough.
Knox points toward the huddle. "Run it again."
Great. More shoulder pain.
The ball hits my hands. I drop back. The rush closes in. Gage slips into the flat. Corbin breaks inside. Tanner streaks down the sideline.
Everything slows. Not because the game changed. But because my head finally did.
For the first time in months, I stop worrying about my shoulder. Stop worrying about retirement. Stop worrying about next season. Stop worrying about March.
I just play.
Tanner is covered. Corbin is covered. Gage isn't. Three-yard checkdown. Everyone groans.
Gage turns up field, cuts outside, and picks up twenty.
Knox blows the whistle. “That's what I'm talking about!”
“I was open,” Tanner complains.
I roll my eyes. “You weren't open.”
“I was emotionally open.”
“You’ve never been emotionally open.”
He grimaces. “I’m trying.”
My eyes widen, but before I have a chance to ask Tanner what the hell he’s talking about, Beck asks, “How'd you know to throw to Gage?”
I shrug. “The defense gave it to me.”
“Coach said the same thing.”
“Coach is usually right.”
“You seem different today.”
I glance toward the stands. To the reason why I’m different. Not just for today. But for the future.
Terri is smiling at her dad. Charlie says something, and she swats his arm as she laughs. One hand drifts to her stomach again. It’s protective and automatic.
Maybe football isn't enough anymore. But maybe that's okay. Maybe football was never supposed to be everything.
Maybe I'm ready for something bigger than myself.