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Long: A Secret Baby Sports Romance(9)

By:B. B. Hamel

Now I was going to be a father. Unfortunately, I didn’t have many good fatherly role models in my life, except for maybe Coach Taylor.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I took a sharp breath. It hit me suddenly: babies were fucking expensive. If I was going to help with this kid, I needed some money. I couldn’t let Avery handle this burden on her own.

But I hadn’t been lying to her when I had said I had no money. College football players, especially guys playing at my level, were heavily scrutinized by the NCAA. We weren’t allowed to be compensated for our play, which meant I couldn’t take so much as a souvenir hat from anyone. I couldn’t sell autographs or appear in commercials. All of my expenses were taken care of by MD, including all my meals and my housing. If I wanted something, I just asked for it. But I couldn’t exactly ask them for a few thousand dollars to help take care of a baby.

No, I needed my own money for that, but I had no clue how I could possibly do it. The only thing I was good at was playing a fucking game, and I couldn’t even get paid for that, not yet at least.

As far as I could tell, I was pretty fucked. It wasn’t like I could take a part-time job or some shit, not without my coaches flipping shit and the media having a field day.

I stood outside the apartment door, anger wheeling through me. I was trapped by my own fucking success with nowhere to turn. I had to find a way to make some money to help this girl, to be a better father than my own piece-of-shit father was. But I couldn’t do it, not in my current position.

I slowly opened the door and then shut it behind me. Hynes looked up from the couch.

“’Sup, man?” he said.

“I got a girl pregnant,” I blurted out.

He stared at me and then burst out laughing. “Nice one,” he said.

“Hynes, man, I’m being serious. Remember that girl from the party in the summer? That alumni thing?”

He frowned. “Yeah, I remember her. Cute as fuck but pretty quiet. Not your normal type. Same girl that stopped by here.”

“Man, she came to see me tonight. She’s pregnant.”

“Quit fuckin’ around.”

“I’m not joking. She’s fucking pregnant.”

Hynes just stared at me for a second before standing up. “Shit, man. Let’s get you a fucking drink.”

I followed him into the kitchen. He set us both up with a glass of whisky and held his up for a toast.

“To fatherhood,” he said.

“Fuck you,” I answered.

We clinked glasses and then drank.



The next morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Gibson had reacted.

He was so arrogant, such an asshole. I hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that, but he pissed me off so easily. The guy acted like he could say and do whatever he wanted just because he was some famous athlete or whatever.

Yeah, sure, he was gorgeous. Sure, he could throw a football harder and more accurately than anyone else in the country, but whatever. When it came down to it, none of that really mattered.

Truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted from him. I didn’t want money from him, didn’t want to marry him or something stupid like that, and wasn’t even sure if I wanted him in my life. Gibson was the father whether I liked it or not, and regardless of what I wanted from him or how he felt about it, he needed to know. That was all I had been thinking when I’d told him.

I had hoped it would have gone a little more smoothly, but it was too late for that. At least he had seemed like he wanted to see me again.

I got out of bed, dressed, and went into the kitchen. Harper had made coffee already and was sitting on the couch, reading a textbook.

“Morning,” I said to her.

“Morning. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I said, and poured myself a mug.

Harper frowned at me. “Can you drink coffee?”

“Shit,” I said. “I don’t know.”

“We need to make you a doctor’s appointment.”

“I don’t have a doctor out here, and I definitely am not using the one at home. My parents know him too well.”

“You can use the student health service, you know.”

“Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

Harper sighed. “I’ll make an appointment for you.” She got out her laptop and typed something real fast. “Also, you can probably drink one cup of coffee per day, but no more.”

“Are you sure?”

She shrugged. “Would Google lie?”

“Yes.” I sipped my coffee. “Yes, it would, but I need this right now. I’ll stop drinking it later.”

“Fair enough.” Harper went back to typing. “You never told me how it went last night.”