Fair Game: A Football Romance (48 page)

No way, I’m going to be proactive about this. I still have his number. I’ll text him and tell him what’s happening and ask him not to mention the pregnancy in front of anyone. Can he even do that? Isn’t it patient confidentiality or something? Not if I’m not his patient anymore maybe. Shit, I need a second alone.

“Davy, Summer, why don’t we wait out here in the waiting area while Uncle Sawyer sorts some things out?” I place a hand on their backs and guide them into the waiting area, where there is a television and video games. I hardly think they will be interested in either, but there’s no room for them in Sam’s room right now.

This is Violet Washington in case you’ve deleted me from your contact list. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’m in a difficult situation right now and I was hoping you would show me some mercy. I’m at the hospital with my boyfriend, the father of my baby, and they’ve just called you to come see his sister in the ICU. The thing is, he doesn’t know I’m pregnant yet. I’m going to tell him, I just wanted to wait for the right moment, and right now is the absolute worst time. Please, Sayeed, don’t mention I’m pregnant, I beg you.

No more do I press send than Dr. Kumar rounds the corner with two residents flanking his sides. Dressed in long white jackets, they look like eager beavers dying to sink their teeth into a good case.

Please look at your texts before you reach me. I’m tapping my finger against the screen of my phone like he’s going to feel it and answer his own. He’s almost to her room when he spots me. Maybe he will come down here before he sees Sam. No, this is an emergency. He’s not going to come down here and chit chat when a patient is in critical condition.

He says something to the residents and opens the sliding glass doors to Samantha’s fish bowl hospital room. The residents disappear, and Sayeed begins to walk my way, thank God.

“I’ll be right back. I see a doctor I know and I’m going to say hello, okay?” I tell the kids. They nod numbly and stare at the television.

“Violet, I’m so glad to see you, how have you been?” Dr. Kumar says, opening his arms for an embrace. Surprisingly, I walk straight into them. Sayeed exudes such a calm, caring vibe. It’s a little addictive, I’ll admit, and I could use some calm right now. I hug him tightly. “Whoa there, you and that baby are going to break my spine,” he says, pulling away.

“Shush, please, Sayeed. I just sent you a text explaining what’s going on, but since you probably haven’t read it, just please don’t mention to anyone that I’m pregnant, please,” I say pressing my palms together between us in prayer form.

“All right, but . . . I assumed you had gone back to the baby’s father, since you didn’t return my calls or text. Is there a reason you haven’t told him yet?”

His voice is laced with hope, and I feel so shitty. He thinks maybe I haven’t told Major because we aren’t together.

“No, yes, I mean crap. This is all such a mess.”

“Calm down, it’s fine, just start at the beginning. That’s always a good place to start,” he says, smiling at me with the most compassionate, warm smile I’ve ever seen.

“You’re such a good man, Sayeed. Thank you for being a good friend to me.”

His face falls ever so slightly.

“But . . .”

“I knew there was a but coming.” His black eyes fill with understanding and disappointment.

“I’m trying to tell him, there have just been so many things happening and we didn’t talk for a long time, and now his sister is so sick.” I gesture toward Samantha’s room, and his eyes widen.

“Samantha is the father’s sister?”

“Yes, are you taking care of her?”

“I was consulted earlier, but it seems your boyfriend just fired one of the oldest and most intelligent physicians in the hospital. So now, yes, I am taking care of her.”

“Oh good, you have to help her, Sayeed. These kids need their mother. Their dad went to jail for doing this to her, and if she dies, they’ll be orphans.”

“I’ll be honest. It doesn’t look good, but I’ll do everything I can, I promise. And don’t worry, I won’t mention the pregnancy. But take my advice. Tell him, sooner than later. He deserves to know.”

“I will. I’m going to, just not today.”

“All right, let me go examine Samantha again and talk to Mr. Steele—or uh, your boyfriend, I guess, isn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s him,” I say, grimacing.

“Got your hands full with that one.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it.”

He hugs me again, and when I look up, Major is standing just outside Sam’s room, holding Malory and staring at me.

I don’t know why, but I jump backward out of Sayeed’s arms. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I have every right to hug a friend if I want to, but the look in Major’s eyes when he saw me . . . it was so cold and angry. I’ve never seen him look that way before, and I never want to again. Chills run up my spine, and I wrap my arms around myself and rub my palms up and down my biceps.

Sayeed turns to see who I’m looking at and returns his attention to me.

“I’ll tell him we’re old friends. Don’t worry, Violet.”

“Okay,” I whisper, still locked in Major’s icy glare.

Sayeed makes his way to Major and ushers him back into the room. Major doesn’t release my eyes until the door is closed, and I want to cry for so many reasons. But most of all, I want to cry because he’s hurting and he’s thinking I’ve done something wrong.

And I haven’t.

Once I decided to keep the baby, I stopped seeing Sayeed. He only kissed me once. It was nice, but it lacked the electricity and chemistry that is there when Major and I kiss. Even when we don’t, a look from Major across a crowded room can make my heart race and my palms sweat. Dr. Kumar is nice, sweet, even, but Major is . . . well, Major is Major.

I’m going to need a new shirt if they don’t come out of there soon. I’m sweating like I just ran a 10K. I have the overwhelming desire to explain myself to Major, but there isn’t anything to explain.

“Violet? Can we get something out of the vending machine?” Summer asks, tugging on my pinky finger. I look down at her, and she’s pointing to another waiting area just outside the ICU with a row of vending machines.

“Did you eat at your neighbor’s house?” I ask.

“Yeah, but that was at six. It’s almost twelve and my tummy hurts.”

“Okay, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the time. Of course you’re hungry. Let’s go get you both a snack.”

I start for the doors and remember my purse is still in Sam’s room and I don’t have any money on me.

“Hey guys, hold on. I don’t have any change. Let me go and get my purse. I’ll be right back.”

Davy slumps down into his chair and Summer sits next to him and takes his hand. My heart aches inside my rib cage, watching them lean on each other during the worst time of their lives.

A nurse is sitting outside the room using a computer. Maybe I can get her to go in there and get my purse so I don’t interrupt? Why am I being such a damn chicken? I haven’t done anything wrong. There is no reason I can’t walk my ass in there and get my own purse.

I slide the doors open just enough to squeeze through. Major is standing on one side of the bed with his arm wrapped around Sabrina, and she has her face pressed against him with her hand splayed on his abdomen. I bite my lip to keep the green goddess of jealousy at bay. It’s not the time or the place. “I just need to grab my purse. The kids are hungry. Sorry to interrupt.” I lower my eyes, feeling very much like an intruder, and round the bed to where my purse is hanging on the back of a chair. It’s also directly behind where Major and Sabrina are standing.

He reaches out and gently takes my arm. I glance at his hand on my arm and then into his endless green eyes. I’m forgiven. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I’m still forgiven. I can see it in his eyes.

“Stay for a minute while Dr. Kumar explains what’s happening.” He pulls me under his arm on his other side and presses his big hand on the small of my back, securing me there as if I’d ever leave. Sabrina steps away and dabs at her eyes with a tissue.

“Where’s Malory?” I ask when I realize she’s nowhere in sight.

“Over there. The nurse pulled two chairs together and used some blankets to make her a bed. She’s tired. I should have left her in her hospital room, but I was afraid she wouldn’t get to say goodbye. That’s not an issue now, so we should probably get her home—all of them.”

He sounds so normal, so calm and full of hope. Not like a man with severe OCD about to take three young kids into his perfectly clean, germ-free, sterile home. And he definitely doesn’t seem like a man preparing to say goodbye to his sister forever.

“Yeah, it’s late, but wait, what do you mean there isn’t an issue anymore? Has something changed?”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t go so far as to say there are no issues, but there are options. Dr. Gram believes Samantha to be brain dead, which is absolutely no brain wave activity. But I think we should give her some time, let the swelling go down, allow her brain to heal. She’s not responsive, and that’s not good, but I think if we wait a few days, there’s a chance. I’m not giving up hope on her yet.”

I love Dr. Kumar right now. Not the romantic kind, of course, but he’s going the extra mile to save Major’s family, and I can never repay him for that.

“Do you hear that, Sammie? Don’t give up. Keep fighting. Davy and Summer and Malory are waiting for you to wake up. They need their mommy, so you work hard to get better, okay?” Major speaks to Sam like she’s already awake and able to follow instructions, and Sabrina lays her hand on Sam’s leg.

I always wondered why people ask comatose patients to fight hard and get better. What are they actually asking them to do? They’re stuck inside their own brain in the dark, frustrated by their lack of ability to communicate, and people are telling them to heal. How the hell do you heal yourself?

He’s trying to help. I get it, but how is that helpful?

“So you really think there is hope? How long do we wait? What should we expect?” I have a hundred more questions, but those are the first off my lips.

“Yes, I believe there is hope. Her MS is very mild, and she’s young and in good physical condition. I can’t tell you how long to wait or what to expect though. We could be looking at days, weeks, months—maybe even years for her to respond.”

Years? I might be helping Major raise three, no, four kids for years. Wow, zero to four in one year’s time. It’s mind-boggling. I have no idea what the everyday schedule of a mother of four is like.

“It won’t be that long, will it, Sammie? You’ll be back on your feet before you know it. I know you won’t ignore a Major’s—or more importantly, your brother’s—request.”

He covers her purple hand with his and squeezes me tight.

I told Davy he needed to have a positive attitude. Now that we have everybody on the same page, maybe we really
can
get her back.

Now to go home and give this man another shock. The timing isn’t great, but I’m quickly learning that even when I’m presented with
the perfect time
, I still hesitate. No more procrastinating. It’s got to be tonight. I know he’s had a long day of stress, but maybe, just maybe, this won’t be the horrible news I’m afraid it will be.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Major

Antidote

I take the envelope with the room keys and turn to see three wilting children and one exhausted beautiful woman sprawling on three couches in the lobby. They drag themselves up and follow me to the elevator. This hotel doesn’t boast the luxury the Del Mar did, but the romantic weekend is a bust and this place had a room available.

I’m not ready to take them home yet. I thought I was, but driving away from the hospital with three whiny, tired, scared kids made me rethink kiddie boot camp. I need to do a few things at home before we all move in and get
comfortable
. . . yeah, that’s rich. I’ll never be
comfortable
again for as long as I live.

It’s okay, though. They’re family. I’m going to keep telling myself that until it’s fucking true. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Samantha wouldn’t think twice about doing it for me. She didn’t think twice when she took Malory. She also adores children and doesn’t have a fucked up brain that can’t handle germs and disorder.

So here we are at the Oceanside hotel, going up to our adjoining rooms with lamps that are cemented to bedside tables and bathrooms that are, God willing, cleaned every day. Sometimes, I just need the knowledge that something is supposed to happen on a daily basis to ease my anxiety. Other times, I have to see it with my own eyes. Hotel bathrooms and sheets are
supposed
to be cleaned and laundered every day, so therefore, the room is essentially safe for a temporary amount of time. At home, I like to watch Edith put the sheets in the wash and hear the scrub brush against the tiles in the bathroom when she cleans because it’s my house where I reside permanently.

It doesn’t seem to make sense to anyone but me, but I don’t give a flying fuck.
Everything has a place and everything in its place
. That’s what good old Mom used to say. Along with,
If you’re always late, you’re always rude,
and
Your time isn’t more valuable than mine, so stop wasting it,
Or the best of all,
I discipline you so the prison guard won’t have to someday.

All are perfectly fine little nuggets of knowledge if they aren’t accompanied by beatings and starvation. My stepmother was the queen of hypocrisy, always late, messy, rude and undisciplined. And Dad was no better, just watching it happen. Oh, he joined in occasionally, especially if the punishment had anything to do with Samantha, but for the most part, it was
her
ruining our lives. She turned me into a kid who dreaded every second of the future, and Sammy into a compulsive liar. Thankfully, therapy cured her of that. It’ll never give her back the normal childhood she deserved, but Sam broke the chains that our adoptive parents shackled us with and made a good life for herself . . . until today.

“Come on, guys, time for bed,” I say as Violet pulls the covers back on one bed and I do the same on the other. They slide in without a complaint.

“Do we have to go to school tomorrow?” Davy asks.

“No, we will go see Mommy again tomorrow.”

“Is she all alone?” Summer asks.

“No, she’s never alone. There are doctors and nurses, and Aunt Sabrina is spending the night tonight.”

She looks relieved to know Sabrina is with her mother. So am I. I wanted to stay with her myself, but the kids don’t know Violet well enough to stay alone with her yet.

“Get some sleep now. Goodnight, I love you.” I kiss my fingers and press them against Davy’s forehead. He’s too old for cheek kisses. Summer sits up and presents me with her forehead, but I kiss her cheek instead.

“You’re not too old for cheek kisses, now are you?” I ask.

“No, I just wanted you to be comfortable.”

My seven-year-old niece is enabling me. What the hell?

“Where did you hear that?”

“Mommy says not to touch you first and not to make messes so you will be comfortable.” She looks up at me with her big, round eyes, and I brush my thumb on her cheek where I just kissed her.

“She’s the best Mommy, isn’t she?” I say, blinking back the tears that are pricking at the back of my eyes.

Summer nods and smiles. “Don’t cry, Uncle Sawyer. Mommy’s brain will get better. The angel told me so.”

“Angel?” Violet asks from Davy’s bed.

“Uh huh, when we got there, the pretty angel that was holding Mommy’s hand told me she will be just fine.”

Violet and I look at each other, stunned. I don’t usually believe in spirits or angels, but tonight I really want to for Sam’s sake. Violet stands and rounds the bed to kiss the girls goodnight.

“Next time the angel is there, will you tell me? I’ve never seen one before, and I’d love to meet her,” Violet says.

“You believe her?” Malory mumbles against her pillow. I thought she was already asleep.

“Of course, I believe in angels and fairies and leprechauns, all that stuff.”

“I love you, Violet,” Malory says, closing her eyes, losing the battle with sleep.

“I love you too,” Summer chimes in, reaching around me to hug her.

“Hey, what am I, chopped liver?” I ask.

“Ew, what’s chopped liver? Sounds gross,” Summer says.

“It is gross, dummy, that’s why he said that. Duh,” Davy says, seemingly fed up with our love fest.

“I don’t get it, but I love you too, Uncle Sawyer.” Summer hugs me and I look at Davy in case he’s interested in exchanging proclamations of love too. He shakes his head and makes a disgusted sound. Fair enough.

I shut off the light and leave the bathroom light on with the door open a crack so they won’t wake up scared. I was afraid of the dark when I was their age. I was afraid of a lot of things.

“Should I close this or leave it open a little just in case?” Violet asks with her hand on the doorknob of the adjoining door.

“Probably better leave it open. Malory’s bound to wake up at some point and be confused.”

“Okay.” She pushes the door open much more than a crack, knowing all to well about waking up confused. She hasn’t sleepwalked since that first night we spent together, but I guess we haven’t spent that many nights together since then.

It feels like I’ve known her my whole life. I want to know her for the rest of my life.

I sit on the bed and watch her strip off her jeans and pull her bra through the arm of her t-shirt and carelessly toss them both on a chair. I’ll have to fold those later.

“What’s this? I don’t get to see you undress?” I say, infusing my voice with disappointment.

“I’m not getting naked with three little kids sleeping in the same room as us. You do remember I sleepwalk, don’t you?”

“Of course I remember. Maybe you’ll sleepwalk out of the rest of your clothes later.”

“Don’t count on it.” She pads across the room and stands between my legs with her hands on my shoulders.

“We should talk.” Her hands begin to knead my tight shoulders, and I moan. It feels so much better than talking.

“Later, we should get naked now,” I say, sliding my hands around to squeeze her round ass.

“No, really, Major. There are some important things we need to work out.”

“Tomorrow. I’ve had enough important things to work out today, now I’m going to work out with you.” I grab her around the waist and toss her on the mattress and straddle her, pinning her arms above her head in one smooth move.

“Hey!” she laughs softly. It’s good to hear someone laugh today, especially Violet.

“You’re not seriously going to make love to me with the door open, are you?”

“They’re already asleep—guarantee it—and I can be very quiet.” I kiss her lips and begin my trail down her neck pushing up her t-shirt as I go.

“I need to use the bathroom,” she says. I look up at her between her perfect breasts mid-kiss.

“Right now? Like this second?”

“Yes, right now, this second. I haven’t gone since we left the hospital. I’m going to burst.” Her words are rushed, almost panicky. I chalk it up to weak bladder control and roll over on my back, freeing her.

When she stands, I hook her with my foot and pull her so she’s standing between my legs again. I prop up on one elbow and take her hand, placing it on my raging hard on. “I’ve got a lot more stress to relieve when you come back. Don’t be long.”

I love the way her lips part when she gasps and her pupils dilate until there’s no brown left in her eyes, just black. Her tongue slides out, and she pulls her bottom lip back in with it before she takes her hand away. I drop back on the bed and watch the room go dark when she closes the bathroom door.

I hear a buzzing noise, and sit up to look for my phone. The hospital has my number. They could be calling with news. It’s on the night table, and it’s quiet and dark. I left it there earlier. Must be Violet’s phone. The jeans that she tossed on the chair have a glowing pocket. I was going to fold those anyway. May as well grab her phone for her.

I slide the phone from her pocket, fold the jeans neatly, and place them in a drawer with her bra. When I sit back down on the bed, I glance at the lit up screen before putting her phone next to mine on the table.

It’s a text, several in fact, and they are from Dr. Sayeed Kumar. The Dr. Kumar who caused me to see red earlier today when I found him embracing Violet outside Sam’s room in the ICU. The Dr. Kumar who took her to lunch and left her flowers on her door, and the one who gave me hope that my sister will wake up.

I slide the message open and scroll up to where it began this afternoon. It’s wrong, it’s an invasion of privacy, and it insinuates I don’t trust her. I do trust Violet. It’s the good doctor I don’t trust. He’s a good catch, rich, handsome, charming, and he doesn’t have the fucked up head problems I have, but I’m not about to make it easy to steal her away.

I start to read the first message that she sent to him and drop the phone on the mattress when I get halfway through the first paragraph.
I’m here with my boyfriend, and he doesn’t know I’m pregnant.

The door to the bathroom opens. I take one look at her, and she knows I know. She looks at her phone on the bed and rushes toward me, but I’m up on my feet pacing before she can reach me.

“Oh my God, Major, this isn’t how I wanted you to find out. Shit, I’m so sorry, I wanted to tell you tonight. I swear that’s what I wanted to talk about earlier.”

She’s standing by the bed, clutching her phone to her chest. Every quick, shallow breath she takes causes her hands to rise and fall. She’s pregnant with my baby. God, this could be Katie all over again. I can’t breathe. I can’t do this. Why didn’t she fucking tell me? Wait, how pregnant is she?

“How far?” I say, my voice cracking with the two simple words.

“How far along?” She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood when she answers my question with a question.

“Yes, damn it, how far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks.” Tears are streaming down her cheeks, and I’m trying to process information that I should never have to process. Twelve weeks? That’s three months!

“Jesus, Violet, three months? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? How the fuck did this happen? I mean, I know how it happened, but you said you were on the pill. Were you lying?”

Her shoulders start to shake, and a sliver of me wants to go and comfort her, but not until I’ve heard the details. Not until she convinces me she didn’t do this to trap me.

“I . . . wasn’t lying.” She sobs between words, but I wait.

“I got sick.”

“And?”

“And they did a test.” Her voice wavers and shutters.

“I was eight weeks already.” And she’s bawling uncontrollably now. I have no choice but to comfort her. The kids are going to wake up next door and think something has happened to their mother.

I take her in my arms, and she grabs onto me like a lifeline, clutching my shirt and molding her warm body against mine. It’s pointless to try and resist her. No matter how angry or suspicious I am, I can’t deny that she is my calm,

my gravity,

my antidote.

She holds the insane buzzing anxiety in my head at bay. She is my normal in a world filled with abnormalities. When I’m with her, I know things are going to be all right. Tonight is no exception. The second she’s in my arms, I have hope.

I never wanted to have another baby. I never wanted to love anyone ever again. But sometimes, your heart speaks the words your mind won’t, and my heart is yelling,
You love her. Don’t let her go!

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. I tried once, but—”

“Shush, stop apologizing, it’s me who should be saying I’m sorry. I just never expected . . . I mean I never planned on—”

“I know, me neither.”

I tip her face to mine and kiss her salty lips. She refuses to loosen her grip on me, so I lift her up and we fall to the bed locked in each other’s arms. It’s dark, but I can see the relief flooding her eyes.

“Were you afraid to tell me?”

“Yes, after you told me about Katie and Malory, I wasn’t sure I could.”