Quarterback's Surprise Baby (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2) (15 page)

“Do you even know who that is, pumpkin?” He seems to be trying to ask kindly, but even the question is out-of-this-world rude.

“Of course, I do.” I whirl to face him. “I'm not sure who you think you're trying to help. First, you get me a job where I don't fit in the corporate culture at all, then when I'm free of it, you beg for it back, and finally, when that doesn't work, you demand that I come to another country with you. That is not the way to handle your daughter, Dad,—whether she's carrying your grandbaby or not.”

He looks as if I've struck him in the face, but I have to continue. “Daddy, I love you, but I am a grown woman now, and this is my baby. And my life. I've tried to follow your footsteps and win you and Mama's approval my whole life, but that's over now.”

I take the box from him and set it down on my desk. “In fact, getting and losing this very job might be the best thing that has ever happened to me,” I say. “Because it has shown me what's important to me. I want to create the kind of world where my baby can grow up happy and secure, whether it's a boy or a girl. You’ll see that you have all the reason in the world to be proud of me, once I open up my own firm and build it according to my own values. Just like you did with this place. But this place isn't the right place for me, and it never was.”

I take a deep breath. “And as far as the baby goes. Sure, it's not as if everything happened ideally, but maybe it happened for the best.”

I turn around and slowly put my possessions in the box, in an odd reversal of that day one month ago, when I thought I was starting my new life. Little did I know that my new life awaited me, but not here.

When I turn around again, my father's gone, and it's just me, my things, and the baby growing inside me.

Dammit. Why does he always get to me? And to just leave like that? I sink onto the floor and hold my face in my hands. I will not cry in this office. I won’t. I take some deep breaths and finally get up to go to the bathroom.

As I finish washing my face, I shift as I feel some wetness between my legs. I go into a stall to check it out, reaching down with some toilet paper. When I pull my hand back up, it’s sticky and reddish brown. Blood. It’s blood. I shouldn’t be getting my period. Is the baby all right?

I text Griff, asking him to call me, then grab the box of my office things and hold it in front of me to hide any blood. I rush out of the building, nodding stiffly at Madeleine on the way out.

“Bye Odell,” she calls after me, with a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes.

“Bye Madeleine, thanks for everything, “I choke out as I rush to my car and straight to the hospital.

I
wince
on the table as the PT works every sore muscle I have in turn. He can always seem to find the spots that cause me the most pain, and grinds his thumb, elbow, or some other torturous implement right in there.

“Fuck!” I yell as he leans into my lower back. “What are you doing down there, man?”

“You did a number on yourself, this time, Griffy,” he answers. “You gotta take care of yourself.”

“I didn’t exactly do it to myself,” I protest. “It was a pile on, this time.”

“Sure, but you know you gotta have some self-preservation.”

I wish I could. He and I both know though that my body belongs to the league, and if I show “self-preservation” over the team winning, I’ll get fired fast. There is one thing they want, and one thing only, and that’s winning games, all the way to the Super Bowl. I wince again as he digs into another spot.

“Ouch!” I yell. “What the fuck, Paul? Do you do this to the other guys, or am I just special?”

“Breathe through the pain, like I taught you, Gryphon,” he cautions me. “If you resist, it’ll just tighten you up even more.”

“All right, all right,” I say. “You’re killing me over here, man.” I shift on the table as he stops his full body torture for a moment and switches to a quick massage. “You know a session with you is worse than getting sacked?”

“I take pride in my work,” he jokes, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Where would you be without me, Gryphon James?”

“Too true,” I say. “But I wish I could go there sometimes.”

“Not right now you don’t,” he says. “I can get you in tip top shape for the next game, but you have to follow my orders.” He pats my ass. “Ok, Griff, time to get up and get to the sauna and steam room. Then you do laps in the pool.”

“Yes sir,” I say, and dammit if I don’t feel a little looser as I make my way off the table.

“Thank you, Paul, you’re the best interrogator ever. I swear I’d hand over my grandmother’s secrets the way you torture me.”

“Ve have vays of making you talk,” he says, raising an eyebrow and twirling an imaginary mustache. “Now off to the sauna with you.”

The hot, dry wood of the planks feels incredible against all the sore spots. I lay down on the planks, stretching out to my full length. I can’t say it isn’t nice to get the full spa treatment. But when you know it only serves to get your body back to the point of being able to push it to the limit over and over again versus just taking take a week off, it’s rough.

My mind wanders back to University as I lay there in the steam room. I wish I could talk to my old teammates right now. Maybe Brando Young. He always did well with the ladies and was always dispensing good advice. Or Jackson Reeves. That guy was probably the worst wingman in existence, but there was something about him that just resonated with me. We would sit around and drink beer and puzzle our way through the place we had found ourselves. A fancy college for two guys who didn’t have the best of childhoods. We didn’t say all that much, rather just shared a certain kinship because of our similar pasts. It was just something we could sense. Jackson was popular with ladies. I think they found that dark brooding quiet thing he had going on pretty attractive in a mysterious kind of way.

“I’m seeing this girl,” I can imagine myself saying. “But she’s a fancy lawyer, and I’m just not sure it could ever work out. You know what I mean? She’s too good for me.”

“Too good for you,” I can hear him saying, taking a swig of that bottle. “Griff. What does that even mean?”

It’s a good point. What does that mean? I wish I could have someone work out the knots in my mind like Paul works out the knots in my muscles. What does that even mean? I’ve made something of myself, just like she did. She’s never gone out of her way to try to make me feel lesser than her, so why should I?

You’re one of, maybe even the best QB in the league right now, I tell myself. The only one who’s really on your level is Kaden Barlow, another Brooks U guy. I never felt quite as close to him as I did to Jackson. Kaden’s killing it down in Little Falls though, and I’m proud of him.

I wonder if any of those guys ever worry about being good enough for the kinds of women you meet when you’re pulling in the salaries we are? I sink into the wooden planks further, my muscles softening.

“We’re all worth the same thing, man,” I hear Jackson’s quiet voice again. “We’re born alone, and we die alone, and we deal with what we have to along the way. It’s all in how you treat people. Just try to be decent to each other. Like she’s been to you.”

It starts to become clear to me. Odell’s been good to me this entire time, and it’s only my insecurities that made things awkward between us.

“If you like her, you like her. Treat her like it.”

He’s right, this imaginary Jackson I have in my mind after all these years. I just need to treat Odell the best I can every day, and whatever we build will be real.

There’s a knock at the door, and then it opens.

“Wake up sleepyhead,” says Paul. “Time for the pool, then whirlpool, and you should be as good as new.”

I ease myself up on one elbow. “Just five more minutes?” I ask in my most charming voice.

“Don’t try to sweet-talk me, champ. Get your million-dollar ass in the pool! I’ll be timing you.”

“
A
ll right
, Miss Williams,” says the nurse, peering at me through her glasses. “Please take a seat, and we’ll be with you as soon as possible.”

I sit on one of the hard plastic chairs, looking around at the collection of people in the waiting room. Nobody seems too poorly off except for one old woman who keeps calling for an “Arthur.” I hope that means they’ll see me quickly. I need to know I’m ok and that this baby is going to be ok.

I pull out my phone again to check for a text or message from Griff, but there’s nothing.

“Griff, please call me, it’s serious. I’m pregnant,” I text again, and stare in vain at the screen to see if he’s typing back, but there’s nothing but a little alert saying the message was delivered.

There’s not much pain, thank heaven, but the blood is frightening. Part of me hopes they don’t call my name soon because that would mean that things might not be too grave after all.

“Odell Williams,” I hear the nurse call. So much for that, I guess. I stand up and clutch my purse to me. I didn’t have time to go home to change, but at least I had an emergency pad stashed in my purse. Hopefully I won’t bleed all over everything.

Griff, where are you?

I follow the nurse through big swinging doors. “Just wait here and the doctor will be with you.”

“Nurse, is it something really dangerous?” I can’t help but ask.

“No way to tell without the doctor seeing you,” she says. “Could be, but it could also be nothing. Just sit tight and try to be patient.”

“Thank you,” I answer as she smiles kindly.

“That’s my job,” she grins. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

* * *

A
fter a bunch of tests
, they’re still not sure what’s causing the bleeding. They’ve just told me that they’re going to keep me overnight to make sure I’m not going to miscarry. I wish I had my things, but I’ll have to make do with whatever I have stashed in my purse, and the huge old pads that they stock in the bathrooms.

When I finally get a chance to check my phone there’s still nothing from Griff. I decide to tell him to come to the hospital. “Griff, I’m at Mercy. Please come.” But still, no three dots appear to tell me he’s writing back.

With each passing moment, I feel more alone in this place. This small room, with its sterile beds, strange old patterned curtains, and nothing to look at. I flip on the television and it’s on a sports channel. Before long, Griff’s face is up on the screen as they discuss the injuries he sustained the last game.

“You’re going to sustain another injury if you don’t show up soon,” I whisper to the television Gryphon. “Answer my texts, would you please?”

I let the announcers drone on about what this injury means for him as I pull the meager covers up around me and try to get comfortable. Maybe Gryphon was more hurt than I thought. Either that or it’s a slow sports news day? They seem to think that he’s getting old. Well, not too old to come see his girlfriend and his baby, that’s for sure. If I even am his girlfriend. I wish they’d talk about what this situation means to our relationship. That’s a play-by-play I’m interested in.

“I need you Griff, please come,” I whisper to the pillow and then close my eyes to sleep.

W
hen I finally get out
of the PT’s clutches, it’s evening, and I feel a hundred times better than before. Paul might run a torture chamber, but it does make a person feel like new. I know I can face the game on Sunday, which in turn relaxes my mind—and when I’m relaxed I can’t help but think of seeing Odell and her sweet body. Talking to her, listening to her, being with her, fucking her. Most of all feeling safe with her, which has never happened to me with a woman. I know I can trust Odell, and I’m starting to truly believe that we can make something real out of what we have.

I grab my phone out of my bag to give her a call and am surprised to see a bunch of texts. I quickly scan them. “Mercy? Like the hospital?” I shove my phone back in my pocket and jump in the car. “Pregnant!” My mind reels as every priority I have ever had suddenly reorders itself in my consciousness.

The woman I love and my baby are in the hospital! And I’ve been in physical therapy like some kind of goddamned hothouse flower!

* * *

“
Y
ou have
to let me in,” I say. The nurse peers at me. “I need to see her. It’s my baby.”

“You wish to see Miss Williams,” she says. Am I imagining things, or did she put an extra emphasis on ‘Miss?’ “Visiting hours are ending.” Her voice is cold, and her eyes above her spectacles colder.

I seize the opportunity. “Ending?” I say. “Does that mean that they’re not quite over?”

“They’re ending,” she says firmly. “It means that they’re ending.”

I look up at the clock and see that it’s five minutes until eight, so I should still have five minutes. I could raise a ruckus and force myself into Odell’s room, or I could charm my way in. As a quarterback, I’ve learn to go for openings. I lean on the desk, and smile the kind of smile that has been getting me out of trouble since I got to Brooks.

“Miss—” I start.

“Reynolds,” she answers coldly. But she answers. It’s something.

“Miss Reynolds,” I say in my best drawl. “I’m sure you’re the kind of woman who can take pity on a man like me.” I run my hands through my hair and look up at her. “A man who was stuck at work all day and now needs to see his special lady and their baby. A man who just wants to make sure the most important ladies in the world to him are going to be ok.”

She stares at me, and I crinkle my eyes at the corners, pleading.

“Okay,” she relents. “Fine. You’ve got five minutes. Room 315,” she says as I take off toward the elevators. “Five minutes, Mr. James!”

“Thank you!” I shout.
Well what a surprise, she knows my name. Must be a football fan
, I say to myself as I jump through the doors just as they slide shut. “Though she might be rooting for the other team.”

* * *

“
O
dell
!” I rush into the bare room, where she lays, looking so small on the hospital bed.

“Griff?” she asks. “Griff, you’re here!”

I pull up a chair to sit by her, brushing a strand of hair off her face. “Of course I am! Baby, are you ok?” I ask.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come.” Her voice is smaller than usual, but her expression is warm.

“I got in the car just as soon as I got your message.” I kiss her. “Are you ok? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she says, her voice faltering. A tear rolls down her cheek as she closes her eyes. “They’ve done a whole bunch of tests. Sorry,” she apologizes, wiping her face. I kiss the tears away.

“Don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“They’ve done tests, and I have to stay overnight,” she says. “I guess we’ll find out in the morning.”

“Are you and the baby going to be ok?” I search her face for any clue.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “I hope so.”

“Odell, why didn’t you call me, call the league, do whatever you could to get in touch with me? I would have come right quick if I had known anything was wrong!” He shakes his head. “I was stuck in PT all day because of my injuries. A text message doesn’t always reach me in time.”

“Well, I didn’t want to put any more pressure on you,” she replies softly. “A lot of things are changing for me right now, and I know you’re dealing with a lot too.” She pauses. “And I wasn’t sure you would want to be that involved.”

“Of course, I want to be involved!” I say. “I’ve never wanted anything more.” And as I say it, I know it’s true. “I don’t want you to worry, babe. I’m going to give you any and all possible numbers you need to get in touch with me, even if I’m running down the field making the winning touchdown at the Superbowl!”

“Oh Griff,” she says, before dissolving into tears again.

“They’ll pull me off the field, and I’ll be at your side. I’m here for you and the baby, Odell.” I say firmly. “You both are my first priority.”

“Hey,” she says. “They were talking about you on the news. How are you feeling?”

I smile. What a sweetheart she is. In the hospital waiting for results, and she’s worried about my football injuries.

“I’ll be fine, baby,” I tell her, but inside my heart is swelling with love. “You concentrate on yourself right now. For you and the baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t get here earlier.”

“Mercy Hospital visitors,” interrupts the voice over the loudspeaker. “It is now eight o’ clock p.m. and visiting hours have ended.”

“Do you have to go, Griff?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

“I’m staying until they kick me out,” I tell her, putting my arm around her back and leaning my forehead against hers. “I love you, Odell.” The words escape my lips before I realize it and can stop them.

She looks at me, stunned. “Griff,” she answers. “I love you too.”

I have to clear my throat a few times to mask the tears that are threatening to fill my eyes. I hoped a day would come where Odell feels the same way about me as I do toward her, and here it is.

I catch her lips in a long, slow, tender kiss. When we pull apart, she holds my hand to her face.

“You’re sure we can do it, Griff?” She asks softly. “Do you think we can make it together?”

“If anyone can, it’s us,” I tell her. “You and I have achieved a lot in our lives, gotten to the pinnacle of our careers, and if we can’t manage to parlay that into a great relationship, I don’t know who could. We will build it, one day at a time.” I mean every word, every syllable, every letter of every word from the bottom of my heart. Odell and the baby will always be first.

“I hope the baby is ok,” she whispers.

“Me too.” It’s strange, having Odell in my life, and now a baby, has changed everything for me. To try to make a family is now my only goal. And I am going to hit it through the posts if it takes everything I’ve got.