Today, I knew where to look. Leah promised to stop by during her lunch. I scanned the faces in the crowd until I found her. She took my advice and waited beside the field, beyond the ropes cordoning off the fans from those who had clearance to be close to players.
God, she was beautiful.
And smiling.
And fanning herself in the heat as she sought the shade on the sidelines. She twisted her visitor’s pass and used it to cool her face. Her wave was half-hearted, and she stumbled.
Backward.
My stomach pitted as she wobbled again. I shouted, sprinting across the field and pushing through my teammates. I hopped over the equipment set up next to the sidelines. My legs pumped harder than I ran for the forty, and I was certain I broke my own goddamned records to rush to Leah.
I didn’t reach her in time.
Leah fainted before I made it, but she woke as soon as her butt slammed into the ground.
“Kiss!” I scooped her from the turf and carried her to the nearest bench. I pointed at a trainer. “You! Get your ass over here!”
Leah waved me away, rubbing her head. She sweated, but she managed a weak smile.
“I’m just hot,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m okay. I’m hot.”
Well, good for fucking her. I was chilled to my core.
“Sit here.” I searched for the trainer. “Bring her some fucking water!”
“Language.” Leah pointed to the kids nearby, as well as the sport reporter chasing us across the field to get a picture. “Gotta be careful.”
“Fuck being careful. Are you okay?”
The trainer hurried to our side—a nosy little redhead who busted the guys’ balls and had a bad habit of ferreting out concussions. She edged me away and offered Leah water and a cool towel.
“Miss?” The trainer felt her pulse and gave her a drink. “It’s very hot today. Were you in the sun for too long?”
“Look at her—she’s well done.” I forced a joke. It didn’t ease the twisting in my gut.
Leah smirked as I poked her dark skin. “I’m just hot.”
“You might have some heat cramps, maybe exhaustion. Do you have a headache?”
“No, I got dizzy.”
“Nausea?”
She glanced over the growing pack of fans and press. My teammates and coaches also started to crowd, checking on why the star quarterback freaked the fuck out and ran fifty yards to help a girl off the ground.
If nothing else, the pictures of me scooping her up and helping the trainer would give me that prince charming image Leah so desperately cultivated. Lately she had leaked stories of dining and dancing and long stemmed roses delivered to her work. That wasn’t a line for the media. I sent her a dozen roses as an apology after every morning of fucking that made her late to work.
She was starting to like getting the roses.
“Miss?” The trainer asked. “Are you nauseous?”
“With all these people staring at me…yeah.”
I smirked. “You get used to it. Just swear a little. Wave a champagne bottle. They love to hate that.”
The trainer had no patience for me. “Were you nauseous before you fainted?”
“Maybe? I’m okay now.”
She nodded. “We should take you inside and cool you down. Did you get hurt when you fell?”
“No.”
“Have anything to drink today? Anything alcoholic?”
“It’s only eleven o’clock?” She pointed at me before I made a joke about it being happy hour somewhere. “And don’t you say anything.”
The trainer took her pulse again. “Any medical conditions? Diabetes? Heart disease?”
“No.”
“Any chance you might be pregnant?”
And just like that, Leah froze.
So did I.
We both counted the days, though I had no idea where I was supposed to start counting or why. Leah said some nights were better than others for our chances. I fucked her indiscriminately to ensure they’d all be good.
Leah covered her mouth with her hand, staring at me with wide, startled, absolutely beautiful mocha eyes. She didn’t speak, but I knew the answer.
Yes.
It wasn’t a chance that she was pregnant.
She was.
She had to be.
She leapt into my arms with a squeal, burying her face in my shoulder as the excitement turned to tears. I held her close, grinning like a fucking idiot at the trainer who probably thought Leah was the world’s worst patient.
“You gotta go get checked out,” I said. “What if something—”
“I’m okay…” Leah pulled away, sharing my grin. “I know I’m okay.”
“Go to a doctor?” I asked. “Please.”
“Right now.”
I glanced over the field. “I’ll come too.”
“It’s okay.” She stood on her tip-toes and kissed me, earning a clap from the growing crowds. “I promise. I’ll go in right now. Meet you at your house?”
“Yeah…”
The trainer offered her arm, and Leah took it, beaming a beautiful smile that sucked every bit of courage from me.
At least she was taking it well.
Pregnant.
We did it.
I was having a baby.
The revelation got to me. I crumpled on the bench and nearly puked. Coach Thompson shouted for me to return to practice.
Holy fuck.
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
Coach yelled again. “Get your ass on the field, Jack!”
The adrenaline surged through me. I did what I was told and jogged to the huddle.
And I played even better than I had before. Now I had two reasons my game was improving.
Nothing was going to stop me from getting everything I ever wanted.
But I wasn’t sure the championship was all I wanted anymore.
Chapter Thirteen – Leah
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t need a doctor. I probably needed to sit down. I should have wanted a stiff drink but that wasn’t a good idea now.
The trainers said to wait it out, drink some Gatorade, and let an ambulance take me to the hospital. I refused, staying until the dizziness stopped and I could make it to my doctor without the media blitz.
This wasn’t a story I wanted spread unless it was absolutely true.
The doctor confirmed our suspicions with a smile.
I didn’t believe her. I left her office and bought three other tests before heading to Jack’s. If I wasn’t dehydrated before, I was now.
The tests all said the same thing.
Pregnant.
Holy. Hell.
I always wondered how it’d feel when it happened. I once pictured a very different life. Husband. Stability. A candlelit dinner and me brushing Wyatt’s hand, whispering my excitement. That was the romance I planned. I imagined soft music playing while I revealed to him how our lives would change. I thought we’d dance in candlelight and just enjoy that miracle.
I could have made Jack a dinner. Maybe? But he already knew. There wasn’t much of a mystery anymore, and I didn’t know what to serve for such a blessed revelation. Or what music to play. What we’d do after we confirmed the pregnancy…
And Christ, there was no comparing Jack and Wyatt, even if every time I imagined that gentle dance, I saw me swaying in Jack’s arms.
This was so not how I planned my life, but I wasn’t regretting it. Not in the least—and that was weirder than everything. The past six weeks of “dating” Jack by day and rolling in his bed at night wasn’t structured or planned.
But it was fun.
Was life supposed to be fun? Having a baby was a serious, life-altering event. We had to plan things and organize everything and prepare for a multitude of changes and events and—
I grabbed a pen, paper, and my laptop. I could make a list of things that were immediately necessary. Doctors and more vitamins, insurance changes. One afternoon, and I’d map out our life for the first trimester, at least. Maybe tonight I’d tackle the second…
Jack’s car roared up the driveway. He didn’t wait for the garage doors to open. Jack leapt out as soon as he parked and sprinted into the house. The front door slammed behind him, and he bellowed my name like it was Christmas morning and I was the present waiting for him under the tree.
“Kiss?” He held his arms out, phone in hand. I already texted him the news. He wanted more. “Tell me it’s true.”
I held up the three home-pregnancy tests. “It’s true.”
His smile only faltered for a split second. “That’s really gross. Drop those before you give me a kiss.”
“Oh, come on, Jack—”
“Kiss me, Kiss!”
I dropped my notebook and paper and the tests, but Jack swooped over me before I could move. His arms captured me. I sucked in a breath to reveal it again.
“Jack, I’m—”
He didn’t let me finish.
His kiss overwhelmed me, stealing the words, savoring the truth, and hiding it from the world so it could be ours and ours alone.
I hadn’t expected the kiss, but my body desired nothing but his lips, his touch, his cock. Six weeks of complete and utter passion had left me starved for any contact, any attention from a man who operated on pure testosterone. I’d warned him it’d be harder than it seemed to get pregnant, and that it might take some months of trials. I thought he’d be demoralized.
Jack took it as a personal challenge.
I should have known not to doubt him.
He fucked me every morning. Every night. Sometimes in between. My life became little more than the impatient hours when I wasn’t in his bed.