Shot Clock: The Game of Love

PROLOGUE

NAOMI

Not again . That's all that ran through my mind as Vick rushed me to the hospital. Ten weeks into my pregnancy, and here I was again, miscarrying. I didn't need a doctor to tell me the awful truth that burned my soul.

The bleeding was so heavy, I was sure Vick's seats were ruined. This was the second damn time. My first miscarriage seemed to be an unfortunate accident. Now that I was going through this again, my mind raced with fear.

After all the tests I’d endured six months ago, my gynecologist swore that there was no viable reason I couldn't conceive and carry a baby to term. Believing her, Vick and I tried again. Here we were, going down the same road.

"Vick, I'm so sorry," I cried. He was behind the steering wheel, quiet, wracked with fear and grief.

"It's okay, baby. Everything's going to be fine," he stressed.

If only I believed him. Closing my eyes, I turned my attention toward the window and cried as the cramps wracked my body.

I didn't remember it hurting this bad the last time.

The mental trauma of miscarrying caused me worse pain than these cramps.

What kind of woman would I be if I couldn't conceive a child?

This would only add to the myriad of issues my parents had with me.

Thankfully, I had Vick by my side. He was understanding in a way I couldn't grasp.

He held my hand even as he drove, soothing me with his soft voice.

We'd been together for a little over a year now, and he was the best man I'd ever met.

At twenty-five years old, I was ready to settle down with him.

Although he hadn't asked me to marry him yet, Vick and I often discussed marriage.

Vick worked as an architect and owned his own company. I met him at a team event and was instantly attracted to him. He was a few years older than I was, but he was easily the sweetest man I'd ever met.

Me not being able to give him the child he so desperately wanted was sure to cause a rift between us at some point. He was being calm and sweet now, but I felt the other shoe about to drop.

"Vick, you can't possibly think that this is okay."

Vick's mother's voice carried into my hospital room, bringing me out of the light sleep I was under. Because of the heavy bleeding I’d sustained, it was recommended that I have a D he was siding with that witch he called mother. Fake bitch! All that smiling she did in my face just to shit on me and my character.

One thing I should've recognized was that I'd changed who I was to 'fit in' with Vick's life. I came from the hood and was proud that I could stand on my own. Faking like I wasn't the bitch that would mop the floor with Mrs. Cole just played itself out.

"Leave, Vick. I don't need any explanations, nor do I need your apologies. Just get the fuck outta my face, 'fore I turn into that hood rat, ya mammy just called me."

Vick's eyes bugged.

"Sweetheart—"

"I said leave! Goodbye! Don't even utter my fucking name for the rest of your life! Coward!"

Blinking stupidly, this nigga did exactly what a weak ass niggas did. He walked back out of the door, taking his sorry-ass life with him.