Beauty and the Running Back (12 page)

Dean

The first two quarters of the Friday night game fly by in a
charged haze. I didn’t realize exactly how much anger and pain I’d been tamping
down until I stepped foot on the field tonight. The second our first play got
underway, I let everything I’ve been dealing with this past month come pouring
out of me. Emotional turmoil is like fucking rocket fuel on the field. It’s no
surprise that this is turning out to be one of my best games of the season,
given how much shit I’ve been going through since finding out about Jessa’s
secret. I’m amazed when halftime rolls around—this first half of play went by
in a flash.

“Jesus Crash,” Royce grumbles as we make our way toward the
locker room, “You start juicing or something?”

“Just doing my thing,” I tell the quarterback.

“Well ‘your thing’ is making the rest of us look bad,” he
goes on, slamming open his locker, “Leave some glory for the rest of us.”

“Glory’s for the taking, not the giving,” I tell him,
lifting off my helmet.

“That’s the spirit,” Coach Cahill says, clapping a hand on
my shoulder as the team assembles for our halftime talk. “Couldn’t have said it
better myself, Crash.”

Normally, such praise from a coach would be more than
welcome. But right now, it takes all the self control I have not to shove Coach
Cahill away from me. My anger with him has only continued to grow, and after a
first half like that I’m a fucking live wire. I’ve got to get it together or
I’m gonna end up punching this guy right in the jaw.

“Now I know we’re already way out ahead in this game,” the
coach goes on to the assembled team, “But now’s no time to start slacking.
There are some very important people in the crowd tonight, and any one of you
could catch their eye.”

“They’ve only got eyes for Crash,” Buck says proudly, giving
me a nudge. He’s been doing everything in his power to try and lift my spirits
lately, but he’s got his work cut out for him. I don’t know of a damn thing
that could make me feel better after everything that’s happened with Jessa.

“Let’s get back out there and bring home another W,” Coach
says in closing.

A cheer goes up around the locker room as everyone prepares
to hit the field again. I walk away from the group to hit the water fountain,
but as I round the corner by the locker room entrance something catches my eye
through a crack in the double doors. A loose red ringlet is poking into the
locker room. As I go to investigate, an entire head of bright red hair appears
in the doorway as Jessa’s friend Blaire sidles into the locker room.

“If you wanted an autograph, you could have just asked,” I
tell her, crossing my arms.

Blaire jumps a little when she sees me, her heavily-lined
eyes opening wide.

“You OK?” I ask, “You look kinda shaken up.”

“I need to borrow you for a minute,” she says, her voice
hushed.

“Uh, I can’t exactly get away right now,” I laugh, looking
back toward my teammates, “I don’t know if you realized, but I’m sort of in the
middle of a—”

“This is more important than your stupid game,” Blaire
hisses.

“Look, if this is a booty call or something,” I tell her,
“You’re really not my—”

“God, could you be more of a narcissist?” she says, rolling
her eyes, “I’m not here to jump your bones, Crash.”

“Then why are you here?” I ask, starting to get annoyed with
her.

In response, she opens the exit door and jerks her head
toward the hallway beyond.

“Come on,” she says. Or rather, demands.

“Are you serious?” I scoff.

“Dean,” she says warningly.

“Fine,” I say, throwing up my hands, “Whatever it takes to
get you off my back.”

I stride out into the hallway, not knowing what to expect.
But whatever I may have imagined, nothing could have prepared me for what I
actually find waiting for me there. Jessa Cahill stands alone in the
underground hallway, her hands held protectively over her stomach as she waits
under the fluorescent light. Her hair is pulled into a hasty ponytail, her eye
makeup smudged. It looks like she hasn’t slept for days. And even for all that,
the sight of her standing before me in this dingy hallway is still the most
beautiful thing I’ve seen in months.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Blaire says, slipping back
through the locker room doors to keep watch for us.

For a long moment, it’s all I can do to stand there, gaping
like an idiot. Jessa shifts her weight from foot to foot on the concrete
hallway floor. I’m surprised her petite frame doesn’t tip over under the weight
of the baby she’s carrying. My heart clenches painfully as I think of how hard
this must be for her—the discomfort alone would be enough to make any football
player cringe. She’s tough as nails, always has been. And for some reason,
she’s decided that my sorry ass is worth even another word with her.

That’s not an opportunity I intend to waste.

Jessa

“Hi Dean,” I say quietly, my voice echoing off the hallway
walls.

“Hi,” he replies, staring at me like I’m the Ghost of
Christmas Past. Not exactly how you want to be thought of by the man who holds
your heart, but at least he hasn’t stormed back into the locker room at the
sight of me. That’s a start.

“That was a mean first half you played,” I offer.

“You’ve been watching the game?” he asks, eyebrows rising.

“Of course,” I tell him, “If I’m going to corner you in a
hallway like a crazy ex-girlfriend, the least I can do is support your team
along the way.” 

A small smile spreads across his full lips, and my heart
nearly leaps out of my chest. I was afraid that the second Dean saw me, he’d
explode with pent up anger. But instead he looks at me with nothing but
kindness.

“What are you doing here, Jessa?” he asks, taking a step
toward me.

“I just… I couldn’t stand how we left things between us,” I
tell him, screwing up my nerve. “I feel terrible for how I treated you.”

“I’m the one who acted like an asshole,” he says fiercely,
“Not you.”

“I lied to you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around my
rounded belly, “For months. I kept you totally in the dark—”

“I’m not saying it didn’t hurt,” Dean goes on, resting his
hands on my shoulders, “But I understand why you had to leave. Why you didn’t
tell me…”

I nearly disintegrate under this simple touch. It feels so
good to have his hands on me at all. I didn’t realize until this moment how
starved I’ve been for human contact these past few months. I struggle to put
one word in front of another, his touch is so overpowering.

“You still don’t know the whole story,” I whisper, reaching
out to rest my trembling hands on his chest.

“What do you mean?” he asks, searching my face with his
bottomless brown eyes.

I bite my bottom lip, toeing a line that can never be
uncrossed. I’ve been battling with myself over whether or not to tell Dean the
truth. Do I maintain my lie and keep Dean off the hook for this child? Or do I
tell him that he’s the father and let him decide what to do with that
information? I’ve lost all sense of what’s right, what’s good, what’s fair. But
I have to tell him something. I draw in a shallow breath and will myself to be
brave.

“Dean,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “You’re—”

The locker room door clatters against the concrete wall,
sending a crash of sound echoing all around the hallway. Dean whips around
toward the noise, and I peer around his broad body to see what’s the matter. Blaire
stands pale and thunderstruck beyond the doorway, looking petrified. Buck has
appeared at her side, his eyes wide with alarm beneath his shaggy black hair. I
feel the breath rush out of my lungs as I see a massive, towering figure step
menacingly over the threshold.

“Dad,” I breathe, as my father’s eyes land hard on my
pregnant stomach.

“Jessa,” he growls, his voice low and gutted, “What have you
done?”

Dean

I move my body between Jessa and her father, as if I could
absorb his anger for her. A protective instinct I’ve never felt before dials up
to ten inside of me. No matter what, I know that the most important thing in
the world right now is to keep Jessa and her baby safe. By whatever means
necessary.

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Jessa says with unimaginable
compassion, “That’s why I decided to leave home for a while, until the baby
was—”

“How could you be so stupid?” Coach hisses, his rage-filled
eyes hard on his daughter, “I raised you to be a good girl, Jessa. Not a… a…”

“A what, Dad?” she shoots back, “Go on. Say it.”

“…A damn whore,” he says, his voice low and full of venom.

I feel my hands close into tight fists as I take a step
toward him. Coach has a good forty pounds on me, but that won’t stop me from
crushing him to dust if he says one more word against Jessa.

“She’s your
daughter
,” I snarl at the older man, “She
needs your support, not your hateful fucking—”

“Watch your mouth, Crash,” Coach snaps back, red splotches
creeping up his neck, “Your’re right. She
is
my daughter. Which means
that this is my business, not yours. What happens within my family is between
me and God.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dad,” Jessa says from over my
shoulder. “What I do with my body is no one’s business but my own. Not yours.
Certainly not God’s.
Mine
. I’m a grown woman, and I know what’s best for
me.”

“Oh, is that so?” Coach spits, drawing himself up to his
full height.

“It is,” Jessa says, lifting her chin defiantly.

“Well then,” Coach goes on cruelly, “If you’re so grown up
and self-sufficient, then you won’t mind when your mother and I have nothing do
with you or this child from here on out.”

“You can’t speak for Mom,” Jessa tells him.

“Hell if I can’t,” he replies. “I’m the head of our
household, little girl. I make the decisions for my family.”

“And look where that’s gotten you,” Jessa shouts back at
him, “Look at where that’s gotten all of us! Your family is totally rootless,
fractured beyond repair… Your daughters don’t even want to be under the same
roof as you anymore.”

“If that’s the case, then good riddance,” he roars, “I’ll be
happy to be rid of the both of you. You deceitful—”

“That’s enough Coach,” I cut him off, holding out my arms to
block him as he advances on Jessa. “That’s
enough
.”

“Don’t you try to rein me in, son,” he growls, shoving me
backward, “Why are you even out here? What business could you possibly have
with this girl now?”

“
This girl
happens to be the woman I love,” I tell
him firmly.

Coach’s icy blue eyes go wide as his face takes on an
alarming purple hue.

“Did you…” he rasps, looking back and forth between me and
Jessa, “Did you do this to my daughter?”

“What if I did?” I shoot back, “Are you gonna disown me too?
Or does your team’s record mean more to you than your own flesh and blood?”

Coach is deadly silent for a long moment, fixing a furious,
evil stare on me and Jessa as Blaire and Buck stand quietly in the background.
Finally, with great effort, he turns on his heel and marches back into the
locker room.

“The third quarter starts in five minutes,” he barks, not
even bothering to look back at us, “Pull yourself together and get out on that
field. You have one more half to impress those recruiters, Crash.”

The faraway sounds of the cheering fans and stomping feet
are all that can be heard in the remote hallway as the four of us stand there,
shellshocked. I knew Coach Cahill was a mean bastard, but I honestly didn’t
think he was capable of being this cruel. His daughter is going through the
hardest time of her entire life, and he has the nerve to talk to me about some
fucking NFL recruiters?

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that, Jessa,” I say,
turning back to face her.

But Jessa’s eyes are a million miles away. Her mouth falls
open in shock and dismay as she clutches at her stomach. A low, otherworldly
sound escapes from her throat as her face screws up in pain. I glance down at
the floor beneath her feet and see something wet pooling there. Our gazes lock
under the fluorescent lights, and for a second it feels like time has stopped.

“No…” Jessa whispers, cradling her stomach, “No. It’s too
early.”

That protective drive rears up inside of me, sending me
flying into action before I can even think. I wrap an arm around Jessa’s
shoulders to steady her, amazed at the focus that overtakes me.

“Buck, give me your keys,” I say to my best friend.

“What?” he gapes at me.

“Your car keys,” I say, my voice rising, “I’m taking Jessa
to the hospital.”

“No,” Jessa breathes, clutching at my jersey as Buck takes
off into the locker room, “You have to finish the game. Dad said there are
recruiters out there—”

“I don’t give a damn about the recruiters,” I tell her, as
Blaire hurries over to help me support Jessa’s.

“This can’t be happening,” Jessa moans, and Buck runs back
over to us, keys in hand. “You weren’t supposed to get dragged into this,
Dean…”

“You’re not dragging me into anything,” I tell her, planting
a firm kiss on her forehead, “Nothing could stop me from being with you right
now.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but another agonized groan
rings out from her lips. Blaire and I all but carry her toward the exit as Buck
trails behind us.

“Just put the keys in my pocket,” I tell Buck, “You’ve got
to get back out there.”

“Fuck that,” he replies, “I’m driving. You’ve got more
important things to worry about.”

“It’s gonna be OK,” Blaire says to Jessa, brushing the
blonde hair away from her forehead, “We’ve got you, now.”

We’re not exactly a conventional birthing team or whatever.
But at least we all have one thing in common—we all want to keep this mom and
baby safe. And in the end, that’s all that matters. If I knew even one thing
about childbirth, I’m sure I’d be scared shitless right now. Maybe it’s a good
thing I coasted through all my science and health classes here at Rayburn after
all. I have no idea what’s coming next, but whatever happens, I’m not leaving
this woman’s side.

Not for anything.