Chapter 4
WILY
Well, I clearly can’t do anything anymore.
I can no longer chase my passion, live for the thing I thought I was born to do.
Staring down at my pale white leg, made gnarly with the latest scars from my last operation, I let out a heavy sigh.
I’m hiding in the bathroom. Taking my sweet time to lock myself away and lament this loss once again.
When I was a kid, I believed with every fiber of my being that football would be my life. It was what I was made for. But my professional career has been plagued by one injury after another, and that final blow last season… yeah, that did me in.
I’m out.
Rubbing my thumb over the red line running around my kneecap, I lean back against the toilet and stare at the glass door of the shower. I thought I might be able to bounce back from this one, but then the wound got infected and I ended up in the hospital with sepsis. Yep. Nearly died.
Satch was worried sick, basically nine months pregnant with four other kids to look after, and I was holed up in a sterile ward, begging the drugs to kick in and save me.
They did, and I was checked out five days before Satch had Paris. I’m so fucking glad I didn’t miss the birth. The thought of Satch facing that alone kills me.
Thank God I survived.
It’s been a slow trek back to full health, and I’m incredibly grateful for my parents and Satch’s parents. They stepped up big-time. Her parents even moved in for a few weeks after Paris was born to help take care of everyone.
Thankfully, I’ve got the world’s most awesome children. Everyone stepped up, and we got through. Dominic and Jane are only nine and seven, but they acted like young adults, taking responsibility for their younger siblings and waiting on Satch and me like the world’s best host and hostess.
God, I love those kids so much, and I’m so grateful to be back to full health again.
Paris is now ten weeks old, and the only cloud hanging over me now is… what the fuck am I supposed to do with myself?
I won’t be gearing up with the rest of the team when the new season kicks in.
I’m a free man.
A lost man.
I mean, I have been offered that coaching position at Carter High School, but… I don’t know.
A feeble wail reaches me through the bathroom door and I sit up straight, straining to hear what I think is my daughter’s wake-up cry.
The sound grows with intensity, and yep, there she goes.
Checking my watch, I can’t help a small smile.
Right on time.
For such a young baby, she already runs like clockwork.
I’m so relieved she’s been the most chill of them all.
Actually, she’s a lot like her oldest brother, Dom.
He was our first and such a breeze. We didn’t understand why people complained so much about parenting.
Dominic slept well, fed well, was the calmest, coolest kid.
So it was easy to decide to give him a sibling.
Jane came along and delighted us once again with her sweet nature and adorable giggles. Poor kid had a bit of a rough start, needing a hernia operation, but we made it through, and then Sebastian came along.
And… that’s when we understood the whole “parenting can be really tough” thing.
He was dynamite. Sleep? Nope, that was not on his agenda. Poor Satch nearly lost her mind. Three kids under five… yeah, she was done.
Or so we thought.
Charlotte was the biggest surprise. A bundle of joy, but seriously not planned.
Paris, on the other hand…
Well, what are you supposed to do when your toddler wishes for a little sister on her second birthday?
Standing tall, I walk out of the bathroom and head down the hall to the baby room. Paris and Charlotte share, but big sis is currently downstairs playing with Mommy, so I wander in and smile into the crib.
“Hey, petal.”
My daughter’s eyes pop open, a smile instantly forming at the sound of my voice. As predictable as ever, my heart turns to complete putty in my chest.
“You have a good sleep?” I rest my hand on her chest, still in awe of how my broad hand covers the width of her body so easily. She’s a tiny little thing. A dedicate flower. My little petal.
She gurgles at me, the sound musical and sweet, before her cute little face crumples and she lets out a squawk.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you, baby.”
Flapping her arms, she kicks those little legs and I lift her up, sniffing the soft fluff on her head and feeling that expanse of love bloom in my chest.
I keep talking softly to her as I change her diaper and get her all ready for a feed from Mommy. She sucks her knuckle, her fussing increasing the longer I take.
“Yeah, I’m going, I’m going.” I grin at her, gently picking her back up and cradling her in my arm.
As soon as I start walking out of the room, she lets out another happy squawk, like she knows I’m about to deliver her to the one person she wants most.
I take the stairs slowly, aware of my unreliable knee and the fact that I’m holding a precious package, but I make it down just fine, like I always do, and find Satch and Charlotte playing in the living room.
Charlotte has her teddy bears all set up for a picnic. The little tea set we bought her for Christmas is laid out on a blanket, and Satch is courageously drinking the watery sugar-milk our daughter insists is tea.
“So delicious.” Satch grins, licking her lips and making a big deal of it.
Charlotte’s grin is all pride, her face morphing into the sweetest look of excited adoration when she spots me and Paris.
“Daddy!” She jumps up, running across to me. “Do you want some tea?”
“Oh, yes, please.” I hold out my hand to help Satch up from the floor and wait until she’s seated on the couch before handing Paris over.
“Thanks.” She smiles up at me, and I lean down to peck her lips before stretching out on the floor.
My knee complains at the bend, so I flatten my leg along the carpet while Charlotte climbs up my body to kiss my cheek, then looks over my shoulder and greets her sister.
“Hi, Paris.” She says it softly, brushing her little fingers down Paris’s cheek.
“Good girl. Nice and gentle,” Satch encourages her while unclipping her bra and getting ready to nurse.
Charlotte watches in fascination as Paris latches on, then bobs back down to sit on my lap.
“Tea, Daddy?”
“Only if it’s been made by Chef Charlotte.”
She giggles and bounces off my thigh to jump around her setup and be the perfect hostess.
She chatters away at me, and I lean back against the couch, resting my arm on Satch’s knee while I watch our precious girl.
Man, she’s so happy and content. So secure. So safe.
And it’s all because of this amazing woman behind me. She’s the one who’s kept this massive ship running. I’ve spent weeks away at games, hours away at training, days away in the hospital, and things have just kept churning.
The kids look after one another—because Satch taught them how.
They’re organized and studious—because Satch has led the way.
They’re all acing school and acting like little geniuses—Charlotte speaks so well for a three-year-old—and it’s because Satch has taken the time to work with each of them.
I’d be so fucking lost without this woman. We all would.
Glancing over my shoulder, I smile at my wife, and her lips curl up at the corners even though she’s not looking at me. I love that she can sense my gaze.
She turns to wink at me, and I lightly tickle her knee before having to take a tiny teacup from Charlotte.
“Drink up, Daddy. It’s good for you.”
“Okay, sunflower. Let’s have a taste.” I sip the concoction and will myself not to gag as the watery, sweet liquid hits the back of my throat. “Mmmmm. Delicious.”
Charlotte beams, her cheeks tinging pink as she reaches for the teapot. “Want more?”
“Absolutely.” I hold the cup out while Satch gives my shoulder a squeeze. She’s sympathizing with my plight… because she’s spent the last half hour drinking this stuff while I was lamenting my lost career.
Shit. I should have been down here with them, not upstairs moping.
Satch has sacrificed so much for me.
We didn’t mean to get pregnant in her last year of college, and she was in Mommy mode before she even graduated.
Thankfully, she got through those final exams and aced everything the way I knew she would.
But then it was all about raising Dominic, and then Jane and Sebastian and Charlotte… and now Paris too.
She never got the chance to become a teacher. I mean, she teaches our kids about everyday life all the time. But it’s not the same. She had big dreams of getting into a classroom, having a creative space of her own, inspiring future generations.
She’s such a good teacher. I wouldn’t have graduated if it wasn’t for her.
Damn, when it’s gonna be her turn?
As Charlotte watches me down more of this swill, her excited face too cute for words, I’m struck by an idea.
It’s kind of terrifying, but also thrilling.
What if we swapped places?
What if Satch got to be the one to leave for work each day and I stayed back and ran this place?
What if I was the one who did the drop-offs and pickups and grocery shopping?
What if I spent my days looking after Paris and not missing one minute of her development?
I’ve been away so much. I missed Dom’s first steps, which killed me.
I missed Jane saying “Dada” for the first time. Again, a knife to the chest.
I missed Sebastian catching his first football. I actually cried over that one. Just a few small tears, but still, hearing Satch describe it to me while I was on the other side of the country… that hotel room had never felt so cold and empty after I hung up the phone.
And thanks to my stupid knee operation, I missed Charlotte’s first ballet performance. The video was freaking adorable, and I would have given anything to be there.
Not to mention all of the other special assemblies and events I haven’t been around for.
I don’t want to keep doing that.
Maybe this busted knee is what I’ve been hoping for deep down.
Because maybe it’s time for me to be the anchor at home.
Shit, am I even capable of doing that?
I have no idea, but damn if I don’t want to try.