Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance (2 page)

“
O
h
, shit! Chelsea? Is Mack coming? Is he on the way?” Lauren looks up at me from the stretcher she’s velcroed down to, straining her neck to lift her head.

“Yes, honey, he is. I promise you. He’ll be there. He’s meeting us at the hospital.” I reassure her for at least the fifth time.

With the ambulance lights flashing like a laser light show outside my townhouse, a few nosy neighbors are peering from their windows to see what the commotion is. Luckily, the early darkness of the November night is making it pretty hard to get any details.

No one can see from their windows that the white sheet they have pulled up over my sister to her waist for modesty is quickly staining maroon with blood. It’s spreading quickly, like a drop of ink in a glass of water, branching out and enveloping the sheet. Why the hell do they cover people in white sheets anyway? Aren’t 99.9% of the people needing an ambulance bleeding? You’d think they would go with black or some other color that doesn’t make something like a scraped knee look like a missing leg with the dramatic contrast.

“Ma’am, you’re going to feel a bump right now as we slide you into the ambulance, OK?” The paramedic with the 5 o’clock stubble and raccoon bags under his eyes tells Lauren as we reach the bumper of the ambulance.

“Yes.” She nods.

He and his partner ease Lauren into the back of the van and secure her gurney. “Are you coming with her?” Paramedic number two, with bronze kissed skin and a thick mustache addresses me.

“I am,” I hop into the back and sit squeezed between the edge of Lauren’s stretcher and the supplies digging into my kidneys behind me.

“Is mom coming, too? Did she answer? Mack is bringing Chris right? Chelsea, I’m not sure if I can feel her moving! Is my baby moving?” Lauren frantically tosses her head in an attempt to see one of the medics tending to her.

“Ma’am! I need you to relax. We’re getting you to the hospital and the doctors will be taking care of you soon. But right now, I need you to focus on breathing this in and staying positive. Understand?” Raccoon eyes slips an oxygen mask over my sister’s face and I can hear her muffled agreement, but her breaths are quick and shallow.

“Lauren, listen to me,” I grab her hand tightly and she wraps her fingers around my flesh like it’s tethering her to this world, “take some deep breaths like the man said. Please? I called Mack. He’s bringing Chris, don’t worry. I called mom and she’s meeting us there, too. Don’t worry about everyone else. The only thing you should be concentrating on right now is you.” I try to calm her, but Lauren’s eyes are two saucers peeking out from under the oxygen mask. I can see the fear in her eyes dancing like a wild man in the rain. I can’t blame her. I’m scared too. I just hope my face isn’t betraying me as I try to reassure her.

The siren screeching just above us is muted by the sound of my sister’s panic crackling in the air. Luckily, we pull into the hospital before she has a chance to fully start hyperventilating. My eyes travel down her body and immediately retreat from the blood soaked sheet covering her, in evidence that everything is not right.

Is she going to make it through this? Is the baby?

I grip her hand tightly and look down into Lauren’s brown eyes. Her tears are leaving trails down each side of her face as they travel back through her hair and down to the stretcher she’s attached to.

The driver barely brings the ambulance to a halt when the paramedics fling the back doors open and pull her out, extending the wheels on the stretcher in one swift motion. I hit the asphalt with a graceless thud and quickly saddle up beside her to hold her hand again.

“Don’t leave me,” Lauren’s voice is weak under her mask, but her message is still strong.

“I won’t,” I promise her, squeezing her hand tight.

We burst through the sliding doors of the emergency room in a whirlwind and instantly nurses and doctors descend on us like bees returning to their queen. Hovering around every side of her, medical professionals are barking out jargon I don’t understand.

“Prolapsed cord…mother in shock…footling breech…emergency caesarean…” I’m not even sure who owns the words swirling around us, just that they’re being rattled off in rapid fire speed.

Lauren tightens her grip on my hand and I look down into my sister’s panicked eyes. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” My voice creaks as I give her my vow.

She doesn’t answer, but her chin jerks toward her chest in a quick nod.

We’re approaching double doors at the end of the hallway, above them the sign reads Operating Room #7.

“This is the end of the line for you, sis,” a nurse with fiery hair tied back tight orders me.

“What? I can’t leave her! I need to be with her.” I protest.

“Nope, sorry. You have to stay here. No family in the operating room.” Her tone is firm but kind.

Lauren grasps my hand, but the staff isn’t about to let us have a long goodbye. She’s torn from my grip and wheeled through the doors, out of my sight in an instant. My hand feels empty without hers in it. It makes me realize for the first time that this might not end well.

My sister might not get to experience the right that every mother has to feel when her newborn baby wraps their tiny fingers around her thumb. She might not hear her daughter’s cries. Lauren might lose this baby.

Tears stream down my face and a sob chokes me as I somehow make my way back to the ER. How can any of this be happening? My mind can’t make sense of it. It’s just swirling with images. My niece’s tiny foot broken free into a world she’s not ready for yet. The crimson soaked sheet testifying to the severity of Lauren’s bleeding. My sister’s hand being pried from mine as she was wheeled away.

I plop down in one of the shabby waiting room chairs as my tears pour from my soul. I cover my eyes with my hands and my shoulders shudder as I let all my fear, my stress, my confusion flood down my cheeks.

“Chelsea! There you are! Oh my dear Lord, where is she?” My mother’s voice cuts through the fog. I look up to see her aging face wrinkled deeper with anxiety.

“They took her to the OR, she’s having an emergency C-section.” I answer.

My mother sits beside me, folds her head over her laced fingers and prays. I can hear her mumbles as she talks to God.

“What’s going on?! Where’s Lauren?!” My mother and I both snap our eyes up to Mack, Chris and Cameron bursting into the room like a tornado of panic.

“Mack, it’s going to be OK,” my mother starts.

“Where’s Lauren?” He demands, looking straight past mom to me.

“She’s in the OR. Mack, I saw a foot. I saw the baby’s foot sticking out.”

“Excuse me?”

Mack whirls around, almost losing his balance to turn to the nurse interrupting our little scene.

“Are you Mr. Forrester?”

Mack swallows hard, his shoulders tense and square off like a board. “Yes.”

“Sir, I need to talk to you about your wife’s condition,” she looks around at the crowd of eyes staring at her. She skims over Cameron, Chris, my mother and I until her green eyes finally rest back on Mack, “in private, please.”

My stomach flips. Mom hunches over her folded hands and prays through her clenched teeth. Chris looks from Mack and the nurse to us.

“What’s going on?” The realization that this isn’t a normal birth process seems to have just struck him.

“Sir?” The nurse interrupts, giving Mack a sharp look and cutting through our collective shock.

“Yes?”

“Come with me.”

A
s the doctor
whisks Mack away, Chelsea slumps back down into the worn hospital chair beside her mother. Her caramel cheeks are shining with tears and her entire body is vibrating. I want to scoop her up from the chair, pull her against my chest and let my heartbeat tell her that this is all going to be fine. I know my mouth doesn’t have the words she needs to hear. My lips might betray my own doubts that Lauren and the baby are going to be all right. My heart is fearless, though. The steady, strong beat would reassure her in ways that mere words never could.

Instead, I simply place my hand on her shoulder. The gesture feels so inadequate, but I watch as a ripple seems to flow through her body and her muscles relax.

“Is mom OK? Chelsea? What does that mean? You saw a foot?” Chris rattles off the questions sailing through his brain like machine gun fire. The brave face he so carefully crafts for all his selfies breaks into shards, leaving a frightened boy in its place.

“Hey, man,” I hold up my hand and wave him in closer to my side, “your mom is gonna be just fine. I don’t know a lot about babies, but it seems like every birth is like a game of football, you know what I mean?”

Chris moves toward me, his eyebrows knit together and his deep brown eyes clearly searching my face for a better answer.

I take a deep breath, squeeze Chelsea’s shoulder with one hand and clap Chris on his shoulder with the other. “I mean it. We all know how birth is supposed to go, just like a game. You know the set-up, you have a plan, you expect the plays to go more or less as you worked it out, right? But sometimes, something crazy happens. Like the defense calls an all out blitz or a woman gives birth in a cab, but it doesn’t mean the play is over, right? You don’t throw in the towel just because you might as well toss the playbook in the trash. You call an audible and fight harder for your win. Your mom has the best team for her. She’s got the best doctors, she’s got your dad; she’s got this.”

“You think so?” Chris watches me closely, hope glittering in his eyes.

“I know so,” I square off my shoulders. “Besides, your mom is tough and I bet your little sister is, too. I’m telling you, she’s got this.”

Chris slowly nods his head, looking down the hall in the direction Mack disappeared. “Yeah,” a smile twitches across his lips, “yeah! Mom’s gonna be fine. She’s way tougher than any quarterback. She can do this.” He perks up with confidence.

“I don’t doubt that at all,” I answer. I mean it.

Glancing down toward Chelsea, I can see she’s stopped crying, instead watching me closely. With her head tilted slightly and her eyes locking on mine, I can’t quite tell if she’s feeling any better or about to give me hell for my terrible comparison. I don’t have a chance to find out, though. A nurse with ginger hair and a severe look on her face interrupts us.

“Excuse me?”

Chelsea pops out of her seat like she’s spring-loaded, “Are they all right?” Her words are barely a whisper, yet hang in the air.

“They are,” the nurse smiles broadly and her tired face shows a hint of the beauty it once wore. “They said it was OK for visitors, so you can find them two floors up in room 411. Family only,” her eyes quickly flit over me dismissively before she gives Chelsea another quick smile and walks away.

“Thank you. Jesus, God, thank you!” Chelsea’s mother exclaims. Until now, her face has been a stone wall. Now, tears spring from her eyes as she raises her hands toward the ceiling in praise.

“Let’s go!” Chris shakes my hand off his shoulder and begins to charge down the hallway.

“Christopher, don’t you run off without me,” his grandmother calls and he stops dead, turning to wait for her.

“You should go,” I tell Chelsea, nodding toward her family.

“Aren’t you coming?” Her brown eyes look up at me from under her wet lashes, stirring something inside me. Something inappropriate. Lust. Why haven’t we ever gotten together? Damn she’s a beautiful woman. My eyes travel across her features, her almond shaped eyes, down over her high cheekbones to her full, pink, perfectly kissable lips.

I snap my eyes back up to hers. Time and place, I chide myself. Learn them.

“She said family only. Besides, it’s really not my place anyway.” I explain.

“I’ll tell them you’re family, come on. I know how much you care. You wouldn’t have stuck around if you didn’t.” She urges.

“Of course I do, but,” I pause glancing down over her supple skin, shimmering like soft caramel under the drab hospital lighting. “Somehow, I don’t think they’re gonna buy the whole ‘family’ thing,” I smile.

Her eyes drift over my face and quickly down my body. Is it just me, or is she breathing quicker? I swear, I can almost make out the sight of her pulse quickening above her collarbone.

“Screw that. I’ll tell them you’re my husband if someone asks,” she holds out her hand and tilts her head. Her shy smile doesn’t match the confidence of her gesture. I’m used to the girls with the shy smile and the wild streak in bed. I’m used to the brazen girls who like to be tossed around in the sack, but with Chelsea, it’s hard to get an exact read on her. It’s like she’s every girl I’ve ever met and none of them. I suppose that’s why she’s the one face my fantasies have kept swirling around since I met her a couple of years ago. She’s not like a single girl I’ve ever been with. And to say there’s been a lot is like saying Everest is a nice hike.

“OK, that works,” I slide my hand into hers, interweaving our fingers. She leads me down the hall to her waiting family and we all scurry onto the elevator together.

“Cameron is coming to meet the baby,” Chelsea explains needlessly. Her mother just gives her a smile. Her mahogany face lights up bright, and her eyes rim with a trace of tears. She must be so excited about meeting her granddaughter.

We explode out of the doors of the elevator and Chris quickly sweeps the floor until he stops, looking back over his shoulder at us. “This is the room!” He hisses loudly. “Come on,” he waves his hand at us like he’s trying to reel us in on an invisible fishing line.

Chris barely waits for us to catch up before barging into the room. No knock. No double checking to make sure of the number.

Inside, Lauren is lying in the hospital bed, Mack hunched over her. They both look up and smile, their eyes quickly sliding back down to the tiny, wrinkled baby lying against Lauren’s chest, her gown draped over her like a kangaroo pouch.

“Is she all right? Are you?” Chris rushes up to his mother and throws his arms over her and the baby. The tiny girl doesn’t seem to notice, deep in a slumber. After what she’s been through, it’s hard to blame her.

“I’m OK. Hey, hey, everything is fine,” Lauren reassures her son, rubbing her hand over his black hair.

Chris stands up and takes a step back, quickly swiping away the tears forming in his eyes before he thinks anyone can see them.

Chelsea slips her hand from mine and joins her mother and Chris by the bedside. I go around to the other side of the bed and give Mack a firm handshake.

“Congratulations there, Dad! You’ve got it all, don’t you? A beautiful little girl to add to your beautiful family,” I smile down at the newborn sleeping peacefully against her mother.

“I really do,” Mack’s voice is thick with emotion as his eyes glide over the scene in front of him. It’s not hard to understand why. This guy came back from the war we fought in shambles. A couple of years later, he’s got the whole package. Will I ever have this?

The thought flickers through my mind, leaving as quickly as it was formed. I don’t need any of this. I’ve got more than most men could ever dream of. As the first line quarterback of the Buffaloes, I’m slaying more pussy in a season than almost every guy I know has in his entire life. The parties, the chicks, the crowds, you’d think it might get old after a while. But, you’d think wrong. If you think there’s a guy alive that doesn’t want the line of girls I have waiting to worship every inch of me, you’d be delusional.

However, as I look at Mack’s face, there’s something about the gleam of pride in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks as he looks at his family. It’s different than winning a game. It’s different than scoring the hottest girls. I don’t have to study his face to know that the pride he feels right now is something I haven’t come close to experiencing yet.

Not that I care. Right?

My eyes wander back to Chelsea. Settling down with one woman? Forever? It just doesn’t make sense, does it? My gaze explores her face before continuing down over her petite frame. The way her shirt clings to her modest breasts and her pants hug the curve of her ass have me jealous of fabric and thread.

In my gut, I know I’m lying. Chelsea is like a light exposing all the cracks in my mask. The question is, am I ready to let someone in?

“You’re so beautiful,” Chelsea coos at her new niece. “You did a great job, Mama,” She smooths her hand over her sister’s hair.

“It was scary, but nothing worth having comes easy, right?” She looks up at Mack and smiles.

“Right,” he murmurs.

“What’s her name?” Chelsea’s mother interrupts.

“Honor,” Mack answers simply. Never taking his eyes off his wife.

Honor’s eyes suddenly flutter as if she’s just become aware of the crowd of fascinated adults surrounding her. Her cries suddenly fill the space with sharp yelps. Her small features contort angrily as she wails up at Lauren.

“She’s hungry,” Lauren says, looking around at us.

“Well that’s our cue to leave. Let’s give you some privacy,” Chelsea’s mother instructs us.

As we make our way out of the hospital room back into the hall, I look over my shoulder at my old friend. My old captain. The new father of Honor.

I look over at Chelsea as well and my heart tugs in my chest. Ready or not, I need to figure out if I can let her in.