False Start: A Football Romance (3 page)

Chapter Six

Callum

I can’t believe my eyes.

At first, I wonder if my mind's playing tricks on me again or if she’s really standing there looking as perfect as the day she told me she didn’t love me anymore. Then I notice her belly, and I know this is real because even in my most drawn out, fucked up fantasies, I’ve never imagined her pregnant.

Why would I?

I don’t want a kid.

Not anymore.

Maybe at one point in my life, when I thought she loved me and that we were going to grow old together, I would have been excited about the thought of a family.

But not now.

I just got started in my career, and I’m on my way to becoming the next Peyton Manning. A kid would ruin all that. Of course, suggesting she needs money for an abortion probably wasn’t the best idea either, but I couldn’t think past the feel of her soft as fuck fingers against my skin and the belly sticking out past her hips. I opened my mouth, and whatever I was thinking just blurted out.

She left me again.

She’s getting really good at that walking away thing. When she wakes up, I should ask her how she manages not to care so easily. It sure as fuck would make my life a hell of a lot simpler if I could get her out of my head and out of my fucking heart.

“Mr. Johnson?” A tall, blonde woman with come fuck me breasts calls my name.

“Yes?” I stand and walk over to her, rolling my eyes at the way she scans up and down my body like I’m some sort of delicacy and she is starving to try me. She stands taller, arching her ass out and pushing her breasts forward, not that they need any help in being noticed. Her cheeks blush a bright pink hue that I would find adorable if I could think of anyone or anything other than Amelia. I wait for her to speak, but she seems to be unable.

“How is she?” I ask, hoping to prod something from her bright red sealed lips.

“Oh, the patient. Yes. She is fine. We have her in a room now, if you would like to see her.” She offers the last as an offhand comment, hoping that I won't accept the offer.

“Thanks.” I stick my hand out, gesturing for her to lead the way. I don’t know if she is a nurse or an intern here or what, but I refuse to speak to her about Amelia any more. I want to see the doctor.

Now.

We walk down a series of hallways, making numerous turns left and then right. I’m starting to wonder if she is taking me in circles, hoping I'll change my mind, when we finally come to stand outside door number 340, where she pauses one more time. I raise my eyebrows questioningly and give a gentle shake of the head when she finally moves out of the way.

Nothing against the poor girl, but she just isn't my type. No one is. Unlike some people, I can't just take a beating and get back up on the proverbial horse. Not off the field, anyway.

My heart, mind, and body still belong to someone else.

No matter how much I wish that weren't the case.

I take a deep breath and push the door open. God bless her. My heart breaks at the sight before me. She looks completely helpless, lying there hooked to countless machines. One of them is wrapped around her stomach and leads straight to a monitor with squiggly lines across it. I have no idea what any of them are. I don’t care. The only thing I care about is the fact that she is okay.

“Hey,” I say, catching her attention.

She jumps when she hears my voice, and I feel bad for the way we left things the last time we talked. The thought that something could have happened to her and that would have been the last thing I ever said to her will haunt me for a while.

“Hey?” She asks, clearly curious about my presence in her room. I’m about to explain when the man of the hour walks in.

“Miss Hart. How are you feeling?”

“Better. How’s my baby?” She asks, and I feel like an ass for not asking before now.

“Everything on the monitor looks good, but we are going to get a quick ultrasound just to make sure. You had a little bleeding when you came in, and we need to make sure it’s nothing significant.”

“Ok.” Her voice sounds so small and weak at the moment that I don’t care if she doesn’t love me or doesn’t want me. I can’t let her deal with this all alone. Walking to the edge of the bed, I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips, kissing each of her knuckles one by one before pressing my lips to the back of her hand.

“It’s ok. I’m here for you.” She smiles up at me through eyes glistening with tears and nods her head. It’s a small nod, barely noticeable, but after spending almost every day for the last five years with her, I’m in tune with every one of her body’s movements.

The doctor pulls her gown up to just below her tits and squirts some slimy liquid on her stomach, then he places some stick-like thing against her belly. I swear, it almost looks like a fucked up shaped dildo. Before I know it, there is a rustling sound on the screen across the bed, and a blurry shape comes into focus. I can almost make out a foot, or maybe it’s a hand. Hell, I don’t know for sure. I just know it’s a baby.

My baby.

“The baby looks good. Her heartrate is excellent. I’m going to get a few measurements, but I don’t think the fall hurt you or her. More than likely, it scared you more than anything else. However, you were spotting earlier. Now it could be nothing, but I want you to keep an eye on things, and if you notice any more, you should come back in immediately. We don’t want something to happen and leave you at risk of losing the baby, and if you’re not careful, even your life.”

“What does she need to do?” I ask. I know it’s not my place to step in and ask these questions, but under no circumstances am I prepared to live in a world where she doesn’t exist. Even if she can't be mine.

“I suggest taking it easy the next week. Light bed rest and vaginal rest. No penal penetration. It will be difficult, and I know, exhausting, but in the end, nothing is worth losing your life or that of your child’s.”

“Okay,” Amelia answers, and I can tell she is in shock with what the doctor is telling her. She doesn’t know what to say or to do, and I hate to see her like this.

Vulnerable.

Lost.

“Would you like a few pictures to take home? She’s in the perfect position for some great candid shots.”

“Her? I’m having a girl?” she asks, and I swear, my heart clenches in a knot at the joy I see instantly replacing the fear and unease that were there only moments before.

“Did you not know?”

“No. This is the first ultrasound I’ve had. I had to change doctors when I moved to the city, and things got delayed.”

“I’m so sorry. Yes. You are having a little girl.”

He prints us out several black and white pictures of the little girl and then leaves the room to write up Amelia’s discharge paperwork. She climbs from the bed and starts getting dressed while silently brushing tears from her face. It kills me to see her hurting, and even more so because I don’t know why she is. I don’t know what to do or what to say, or if I even have a place to say anything anymore. She pushed me away.

And I left.

Fate is sometimes twisted, and all it takes is for you to open your eyes and pay attention. Sometimes, that second chance you’ve wished for drops in your lap, and all you have to do is snatch it up.

I plan to do exactly that.

Amelia may not love me, and she may not want me, but there is no way in hell she would ever keep me from being a part of my daughter’s life. I know that.

“Brian, have a car pick me up at the hospital in twenty minutes.” Amelia’s head snaps toward me as I push my phone back into my pocket. I can see the anger light her eyes, and I know I’m in for one hell of a fight, but this time, I’m not backing down. This time, I’m not walking away. If she wants a fight, then by God, she will get one.

Chapter Seven

Amelia

I’m so damn pissed at him that I feel like I could spit fire right now. He’s nothing more than an arrogant, good for nothing, sexy as sin piece of shit. If it weren't for the baby in my stomach right now, I’d crawl up his back and light into his head just for sheer principle. How dare he come in here and pretend to care about me, about us, and then as soon as the doctor leaves, arrange for his transportation out of here. I want to kill him right now.

“You don’t have to wait. Go ahead and go. I don’t need you.” I’m proud of the calm, steady voice I’m able to put forth while choking the tears back.

“No,” he replies crossing his arms across his chest.

“Excuse me? And why not? I haven’t needed you for the last six months, and I don’t need you now. So bye.” I choke on the tears threatening to fall, my breath hitching at the end of my speech. Shoving my arms through the sleeves of my dress, I pause to gather my composure before turning back to face him and find my shoes dangling from the tips of his fingers.

“I said no. I’m not leaving here without you. You may think you don’t need me, and hell, maybe you don’t, but that is my child you’re carrying, and until you give birth to her, you are not leaving my sight.”

“Bullshit.” I can't believe the balls on this man.

“Try me,” he replies calmly, with such certainty that I can't help but stare back at him, openmouthed.

His cellphone rings, and after a quick conversation, he leaves the room. I breathe a sigh of relief, hoping that I finally got through to him, but I should have known better.  He returns minutes later with a wheelchair and my discharge paperwork.

“Sit,” he demands, and I think about ignoring him, but standing here for the last five minutes is taking its toll on me. My side is already hurting, and I want nothing more than to crawl in my bed at home. I sit in the chair, and I swear, I can almost feel his smug grin fill the room behind me.

It’s okay.

The first chance I get, I plan to pack my stuff and leave. I can grin and bear it until he leaves for the next game. Two, three days max.  I just need to make sure not to let my heart get tangled up in this again. The only reason he is doing any of this is for the safety of his child, I remind myself. A child that he doesn’t even really want, and until a few hours ago, didn’t even know about.

I can handle this.

I just need to remain the same cold, impassive woman I’ve been for the last few months, and everything will be fine.

I couldn’t believe it when I found out I was pregnant. It was like a dream of mine had come true. I knew I would never be able to be with Cal again. His dream of being a professional football player didn’t line up with my dreams of a much simpler life, but that was okay because at least I would have a piece of him. The very best piece.

His daughter.

I’ve always wanted to be a wife and a mother more than anything in this world.

One out of two isn’t bad.

My job at Fontaine’s Design pays me well enough that I can support myself and Carson easily. I’ve been able to save quite a bit since I started there two months ago. I know having a baby and trying to start my career at the same time isn't the best idea, but this is the hand I was dealt and the one I will play through till the end.

I refuse to fold.

Even when I told my supervisor about the baby, I was met with nothing but support and excitement. The lead designer in the studio, Eve, even offered to send me back to school to get my degree in Architectural Design once the baby was born. Most of the work I did, I was able to do from home, only needing to come to the office to meet with a new client, like I was supposed to do today, or to turn in receipts and purchase orders for material.

Shit, I need to call the office and let them know why I didn't make it.

“Don’t worry, I already called and let them know,” Cal states while waiting for the elevator to arrive. It takes me longer than I'd like to admit to realize I spoke out loud, and then even longer to wonder how the hell he even knew who or where to call.

“Well, you see, that’s actually a funny story.” I turn in the wheelchair and look up at him waiting for him to continue, which he does after rolling me into the elevator and waiting for the doors to close.

“I was supposed to be meeting with the best modern interior designer at Fontaine’s today. My roommate, Griffin, was supposed to, but he got tied up with work and asked me to cover for him. Which was fine until I walked into the office and saw the plaque on the edge of the desk with your name on it. Then I just ran out the door and, conveniently enough, straight into the one person I was trying to avoid.”

At least now I know what he was doing at the pavilion. In a really screwed up way, I guess you could even say everything that had happened today was his fault. By default, just because he tried to run away from me.

“Trust me, I know.”

Dammit. I’ve got to stop speaking every damn thought that comes to my head out loud. There is so much pain in his voice that I can almost pretend he really cares, but how could he?

I didn’t even know Cal still lived in the area. Somehow, I pictured him in a giant house on the beach somewhere. Now that I think about it, I realize how stupid that idea was. Of course he still lives here. He was drafted by our state's professional team during his junior year of college.

It’s a miracle I hadn’t run into him before now.

“Can you climb in on your own, or do you need me to lift you?” He asks when we make it outside, and for a second, I’m struck silent at the thought of his hands on me, but then I see his smirk, and I realize he’s joking with me.

“I think I can manage,” I reply curtly, standing and climbing inside the sleek black Lexus. My body sinks into the soft leather seat, and I moan, running my hands across the smooth material. The man in the front driver’s seat glances at me in the rear view mirror. His eyes hold mine for a second, questioning, but before I have a chance to wonder too deeply about his look, Cal is climbing in next to me.

“To the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

He’s sitting so close to me that I can barely breathe. I try to scoot further away, but there is nowhere to go. I’m stuck between him and the car door.

“I’m not going to bite, Amie. Not unless you ask me to.” He teases, using my old nickname, and I’ll be damned if my whole body doesn’t respond to the unsolicited offer. My nipples perk up against the soft cotton of my dress and my palms clam up with perspiration.  My God, how I wish I could take him up on that offer, but I can’t. It would only complicate things between us even worse.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I reply in a surprisingly strong, sure voice. Five minutes in the car with him, and I’m already starting to question whether I’ll be able to go through with this. My heart is trying to beat out of my chest right now. I feel it thumping against the confines of my rib cage, demanding I let it loose.

Free it.

But I can’t. I can’t let him have it again. I can’t let him know the hold he still has on me because then he will want to be there for me and the baby, and his dream of playing ball will disappear.

Then again . . .

Maybe this time, I should learn from my past mistakes and give him a chance in the decision-making department.  Hell, I could be over-thinking all of this for no reason at all. He might not even love me anymore. Maybe he has someone else. I could be heading to his house right now to meet his current girlfriend and not even know it. It would serve me right for letting him go. Someone as amazing as Callum Johnson didn’t stay single long. I know that.