Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance (25 page)

Coach Thompson hummed. “I couldn’t tell. You’ve been playing excellent ball.”

“I didn’t let myself focus on the pain. I ignored it.”

“Good man.”

No. That was the opposite of being a
good man
. Hell, it wasn’t even brave.

I was too much of a coward to face the consequences of my injuries.

“I’m voluntarily sitting myself for the championship game,” I said. “I can’t risk any further injuries.”

Coach Thompson sighed, buzzing the air through his lips. His chair creaked as he leaned back.

“I’m gonna tell you straight,” he said. “You’re having the best season of your career. How bad could these injuries possibly be? I think it’s in your head.”

The injury was definitely
in
my head. “It’s too dangerous for me to play.”

“We’ll have you talk to a trainer, not a neurologist. They’re always looking for problems. Gotta justify their paycheck.” He waved me away. “You’ve just got your bell rung again. Nothing a cold beer and some pain-killers won’t cure. Ask the trainers, and they’ll cut you a good prescription. You take two days, rest up, and you’ll be good as new.”

“It’s worse than that, Coach. Believe me.”

“But you wanted to play this season. Hell,
I
wanted you to play with us. We need you.”

“I have someone else who needs me,” I said. “And she needs me to be healthy. I hate to take myself out, but if I get hurt—”

“You were cleared to play, Jude.”

“It was at my discretion.”

Coach Thompson frowned. “Are you sure you aren’t letting other people interfere with your medical assessments? Doctor Merriweather has consistently interfered with other players this season. I think she’s convinced you that you’re hurt.”

“This isn’t about Ror—Doctor Merriweather. I’m not one hundred percent.”

“Show me any player who isn’t beaten up this late in the season. Sprains, broken fingers, torn muscles. You know this game.
No one
is healthy.
Everyone
plays hurt.”

“Look—”

He didn’t want to hear it. “That’s the deal you made when you signed with this team. That’s why you were given
millions
to play, Owens. Only men play this game, and men know when it’s time to make sacrifices.”

He was absolutely right. That’s why I was here, giving it up. “My decision is final.”

His scowl turned cold. “I didn’t think you were a coward.”

“I’m not.”

“I think you are. I think you’ve let Merriweather poison your mind. She’s manipulating you.”

“She’s the only person telling me the truth.”

“You have more than enough juice left in you to make it through this
one
game,” he said. “Then you can take off-season to rest and get ready for next year.”

Now my head did hurt. “
Next
year? Coach, there’s no fucking way I can run another sixteen games next season. I’m
out
. I’m asking you to respect my decision.”

I reached the door before he spoke once more.

“I know the baby isn’t yours.”

I stilled.

How the hell did he know?

“That doesn’t matter,” I said.

“It matters to Doctor Merriweather. Matters so much, in fact, that you assumed responsibility to save her career.”

My head wasn’t screwed on straight, but even I recognized a threat when I heard it. I spun, tossing aside my chair so I could stare him down, face-to-face.

“Rory’s got nothing to do with this,” I said. “We’re done here.”

“Doctor Merriweather has everything to do with this.” Coach Thompson didn’t look away. “She’s manipulated you into believing you aren’t fit to play, despite a second opinion countering her assessment.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

“I’m displeased with the quality of her work. And Doctor Frolla is concerned with the accuracy of her assessments.”

He’d
blackmail
me? Was he that desperate? “So what? If I don’t play, you’re going to get Rory thrown out of the program?
Fine
. She’ll get a job somewhere else.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. If Doctor Frolla believes her assessments were incorrect this year…” His eyebrow rose. “It might call into question her medical license.”

Jesus. I knew the bastard was an asshole, but I had no idea he’d ruin an innocent woman’s life.

But I’d do anything I could to protect it.

“What the hell do you want from me?” I asked. “Want me to play? I’ll fucking play.”

“The championship?”

“I’ll suit up.”

He patted my shoulder. “You’re a strong man, Jude. Fit. In the prime of your life. You have another season left in those legs. Who the fuck cares what happens inside that head.”

Not me.

I couldn’t care, not anymore.

Rory wouldn’t forgive me for playing another season, but I couldn’t risk the coach fucking with her career. Without me there, without her license to practice medicine, she’d have nothing but a hungry baby and broken dreams.

I wouldn’t let it happen.

“I’ll play. But what happens if I get hurt?”

“If you get hit, try to land on your millions of dollars. You’ll be fine.” Coach Thompson scowled. “Go home, Owens. Get some rest. You’ve got to prepare for the biggest game of the season—the only one you’ve never won.”

And the game that would finally end it all.

My career. My life.

And any chance I had with the woman I loved.

T
he baby wasn’t
a pain in the ass—it was just a little cramp in the tummy.

Nothing crazy. Only Braxton Hicks contractions, but they landed me on the couch. At thirty-eight weeks, that was where I was staying.

Forever
.

Jude’s couch was a deep-seated leather monstrosity—the domestic equivalent of quicksand for the third trimester. My need to pee wasn’t
urgent
-urgent, but I started the wiggling process to get up.

The keys in the door caused me to jump. The baby flinched too.

It was like Genie knew he was home.

Wasn’t it bad enough both of our hearts skipped whenever he talked? Once she was born, Genie wouldn’t want me. She’d want Jude.

I didn’t know where he would be then, but there was only one place I wanted him.

Right beside me.

Phillip trotted to the door, glanced at the giant box in Jude’s arms, and gave his own doggy sigh.

I tilted my head, reading the box.

“
Bumper Slumber
?” I asked. “What…is that?”

Jude smiled, but he couldn’t look at me. I didn’t expect him to. After last week, after the fight and his
second opinion
, I doubted he’d ever forgive me.

“It’s a present,” Jude said. “I wanted to get you something special.”

“Can I…can I eat it?”

He laughed. “You can try. Doesn’t taste like root beer and you’d probably deflate it…but if it makes you happy.”

I edged to the end of the couch, but getting up seemed impossible. The fatigue won this round.

As did my curiosity.

“It’s a…” I frowned as Jude pulled an oversized pool raft out the box. “I don’t know.”

“Take a guess!”

He held it up for me, gesturing towards the rounded hole in the middle.

I had
no
idea. “A giant…donut cushion? My butt isn’t that big!”

“It’s for you to
lay
on.” Jude heaved a breath and started to blow up the pink plastic. A second and third breath didn’t help the inflation. “This might take a while.”

The box had a happy, smiling, heavily pregnant woman resting in the cushion, dropping her swollen tummy into the hole so she could rest on her front.

“You mentioned you were uncomfortable in the bed,” he said. “I wanted to see if this would help. You lay on it.”

My stomach twisted, but it was nothing an inflatable mattress with a belly pocket could fix. “Yeah, you said that. It looks interesting.”

“I just…” He took another deep breath and pumped a lungful of air into the mattress. “I want to make these last weeks…nice.”

His silver eyes briefly glanced over me. My chest tightened.

“I can’t believe it’s almost time.” I rubbed my belly. “It’ll be strange to use her crib as a bed instead of a place for extra storage.”

“We can let her sleep in the diaper genie.” Jude smiled. “Has her nickname on it and everything.”

It was funny the first and second time he’d said it too. I laughed anyway, but I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if Jude believed me when I said he was repeating himself more often…or if he knew and it scared him just as much as me.

He sucked in another breath and blew it into the mattress. His was not a brain that would react well to oxygen deprivation.

“You don’t have to do that now,” I said. “I’ll help.”

“You rest. You’re ready to pop.”

“So are your cheeks.”

“Well, just wait.” He pointed to the picture on the box. “You’ll thank me. This is better than that
Snoogle
thing. I know you wanted it, but that sounds like some weird Muppet mating call. This is better. It’s for you to lay on.”

“Jude, please.” I kept my voice soft. “Put it down. I think you need to go and rest.”

“Why?”

I held out my hand. A long moment passed before he reached back to me.

His tremble had gotten worse.

I squeezed his palm. “I know you think I’m crazy right now.”

“Pregnancy crazy or doctor crazy?”

“Good question.”

I’d accidentally nested my way into the kitchen and shifted the plates and bowls to opposing cabinets. Then I went through Jude’s locker at the practice facility and
tidied
up, which he didn’t find nearly as amusing as the other members of the team.

But this wasn’t about the pregnancy. It was about him.

“I’m worried about you,” I said. “You know that.”

“I know.” He pulled away. I expected that. His mind was set on the damn mattress, and he returned to inflating it. “But think about it this way.” He puffed. “If I was really doing bad.” Another huff. “Would I be playing this well?”

“What do you mean?”

He wiped his mouth and blew again. “If my head was really screwed up, wouldn’t I be hurt more? Slower? Having more physical problems?”

“Here’s the funny thing about the brain—you may never know how badly its hurt. You’re still injured. It’s
chronic
. You’re going to live with this the rest of your life. The migraines are telling you to slow down. But you aren’t listening.”

He blew hard, but his eyes rose to me. “I
am
listening, Doc. And I know what you want.”

Everything? “I don’t think you do.”

“You’ve been protective,” he said. “And I understand that now. It’s…
nice
to be taken care of.”

I patted my tummy. “Likewise.”

“But I think I can do this, Rory. I know it’s dangerous, but it’s the
championship
game. This is the culmination of my career. I feel good. I feel
ready.
”

I didn’t believe him. I didn’t think he did either. “Are you sure about that?”

“It’s late in the season. No player is one hundred percent.”

“You’re
way
less than one hundred percent. You’re like…not even passing, Jude.”

“Good thing I’m the team’s rusher.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’m making the decision.” He heaved a breath into the mattress. The damn thing wheezed more than he did. “I’m gonna to do it.”

My heart crushed, and not because Genie bounced in my tummy, trying to impress the man she thought was her daddy.

The man I
wanted
to be her daddy.

I pinched my eyes shut, waiting as he pushed two more breaths of air into the slowly inflating mattress.

“Okay,” I said. “I understand.”

The plastic tip fell from his mouth, and his hard work tooted back out with a soft
eeee
.

“You do?” he asked.

“It’s one more game. We can get through one more game, especially the championship.”

Jude grinned. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Permission to be absolutely terrified while you’re on the field?”

“You have
nothing
to fear, Rory.” He reached for me but got tangled in the plastic. Somehow he’d looped his foot through the belly hole and yanked too hard, nearly tripping. “Though if I break a leg on an inflatable pregnancy mattress, they won’t let me within five miles of a stadium.”

“Careful. I’m not an orthopedic doctor.”

“Take the stethoscope off, Doc. I don’t need an MRI, but I could use a cheerleader.”

“You have a deal…as long as I don’t have to wear the skirt.”

“What about pom-poms?”

“
Only
because it’s the championship.”

Jude grinned, wrestling with the mattress once more. “You’ll see. I’m gonna play, and I’ll do it safe. We’ll get the win, and then…”

I met his gaze. My heart fluttered in the best way.

This was it.

I heard it in his voice, saw it in his eyes.

The same promises and hopes and secrets I’d kept for so long. He felt it too.

And he was going to tell me.

“And then…?” My voice hushed as I gazed at the most beautiful, most amazing man I’d ever known.

“And then we make a judgment call.”

Not the declaration I’d imagined. Less romantic and more…clinical. “What sort of judgment call?”

Jude lowered his head and huffed into the mattress once more. “About next season.”

No
.

No, no, no.

I pushed myself off the couch in a fantastic feat of strength. “You aren’t serious? Another
season
?”

“A lot can happen in the off-season.” He didn’t look at me. “I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

“Do you want to keep that mind from leaking out of your ears? You can’t possibly play another season.”

“We have time to talk about that later.”

“No. We don’t.” My words caught in my throat. “We have to talk it over
now
.”

“Why?”

I couldn’t believe I was saying it.

“Because if you play another season, you’re doing it alone.”

The mattress fell. “What?”

I closed my eyes. I still imagined him there. Strong. Powerful. Crippled by an injury he couldn’t see or understand. I saw both the boy I knew as a child and the man I loved. The friend and the lover, the strong athlete and the stubborn patient.

“I can’t watch you hurt yourself.”

“Rory—”

“I’m in love with you, Jude.”

Time stopped, and my heart halted with it. Silence fell. Even the baby went still, waiting for the mic to drop or my water to break.

“You’re…” Jude stared at me, the little squeal of air fleeing from the mattress matching the shrillness in his voice. He cleared his throat. “You’re in
love
with me?”

“Yes! And you’re a complete
idiot
.”

“Wait…what?”

“I’ve been in love with you for
years
. Most of my life. Ever since we were kids. You were the only boy, the only man I’ve ever loved. I’ve wanted no one else but you for as long as I can remember, and now that you’re here and we’re together…”

I was
yelling
the truth at him.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

We were meant to fall into each other’s arms. Whisper our passion. I imagined him. Me. The baby.

A family of cuddles and warmth and so much love.

Instead, I had a half-inflated mattress, a nearly brain-damaged fake boyfriend, and a baby who wouldn’t stop twerking on my bladder.

It wasn’t how I imagined this, but it could all be fixed. He just needed to understand.

His career was over. It was time to play his last game and retire with dignity. I wanted him to
walk
away, not get carted off the field in another moment of terror.

Jude stared at me, his eyes sparking a brilliant silver. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yes.”

“…Do you know how much I love you?”

I nearly burst into tears. I shook my head. No. I wanted to hear it. I
had
to hear it.

“You’re gonna make me count the ways when I can’t even remember what I had for lunch?”

“The team had a catered lunch from DeLuca’s.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Let’s not find out. Don’t give me a reason to leave.”

Jude sat back on his heels. He tossed the mattress away. “You know I wasn’t looking for anyone to love. It just happened. I couldn’t help but fall for you. And I’m sorry. I wanted to be a gentleman and friend. I never meant to complicate your life.”

“Complicate away, Jude.”

“You are
everything
I’ve ever needed…and I didn’t know how much I wanted it.” He looked away. “But you have to support me on this. If I choose to do another season—”

“I can’t. Don’t make me choose.”

“Choose what?”

I shook my head. “Between the baby and you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have to put the baby first. I can’t…I can’t let you play. If you hurt yourself again, if you needed help—”

“I don’t need help.”

“Yes, you do.” I stepped closer, kissing his trembling hand. “You’re going to need new examinations and tests. Physical therapy. A rotation of new medication until we can find the combination that helps you the most. I’m not afraid of the work, Jude. I’m afraid of you making it
worse
and me not being able to…”

“I’m fine, Rory. The only thing I need is you and…” He reached out, touching my tummy. “The baby. That’s all I want.”

“And what happens if the injury destroys your impulse control? Or it makes you irrationally, uncontrollably,
violently
angry?” I looked away. “When you forget to turn the oven off? When you accidentally flood the tub and bathroom?”

“What?”

“You left yesterday morning without getting into the bath. It flooded. I mopped it up—”

“You know I’m forgetful. That happens. But if you’re with me—”

“You’re willing to risk your life?”

“I’m not going to die on the field.”

“It’s not about the
game
, Jude! Every hit you take
will
ruin a year later in your life. I
want
a future with you. I want to be with you and love you and…” A tear rolled over my cheek. “I’d love to raise Genie with you. But I have to know that you’ll
be there
.”

“Don’t, Rory. If you knew how much I loved you—”

“I need you to love
yourself
now. Realize you’re a good man, a compassionate man. Someone who doesn’t need the game to define who he is.”

“I don’t have a choice in this.”

“Then neither do I.” I held the tears back with gritted teeth. “The baby is due in two weeks. I’ll start looking for a new apartment.”

“Don’t do this to me.”

“We’ll say it was amiable. That we broke up because we wanted different things. At least…that will be the truth.”

“But I only want you and the baby.”

“I love you, Jude. And I want to take care of you…but first you have to decide to take care of yourself.”

He didn’t answer. I escaped to the guest room and clutched the sweet teddy bear he had bought for Genie. The little fuzz-ball had his jersey, and I knew it would be her favorite toy—if only because he gave it to her.

I waited well into the night before I ventured out of the room.

The mattress, fully-inflated, propped against my door. I brought it inside and rested on it.

Jude was right. It was comfortable.

If only it could have cradled my broken heart.