Beauty and the Running Back Page 13

  I turn and head back out into the locker room before I blow Jessa’s spot. I’m still devastated about what went down between us, but her life is hard enough as it is. I won’t add onto the heartache by causing her parents to disown her. But unanswered questions eat away at me as I gather my stuff and head home. I never even got to ask her what she was going to do when the baby was born. And now, after a month of shutting her out, she probably never wants to speak to me again.

  Stepping out into the April afternoon, I fill my lungs with fresh spring air. But as many breaths as I take, I can’t clear the toxic feeling from inside of me. In my anger, I failed Jessa in the biggest way. So what if the kid’s not mine, I still could have been a friend to her. I didn’t need to make her pain all about me. Jesus, I can be an egocentric prick sometimes. And now, it’s probably too late to be there for her at all. If I hadn’t lost my cool, maybe there’d still be a chance for us.

  A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.

  If I’d known back in August that I’d be playing in front of three NFL recruiters this coming Friday, I would have been walking on air for the entire week leading up to the game. My performance at the Bowl this winter has made me a hot commodity, and everybody knows it. I always thought that a career in football was the one thing that I needed to be happy, to feel like I was really living my life. But now…?

  I shake the dour thoughts out of my head. I fucked things up with Jessa, and I need to deal with the consequences. But beyond that, I need to make sure my future is still secure. And that means that I need to stop beating myself up and get my head in the game before Friday rolls around. I was a football player long before Jessa Cahill came into my life, and I’m a still a football player now that I’ve lost her. It may not be much, but it’s something to hold onto.

  And hell—right now, I could use something to make me feel alive again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jessa

  I stare up at the formidable walls of the Rayburn University football stadium through the windshield of Allison’s car. Was it really just this past fall that I was here, cheering on the Red Birds as Dean led them to victory after victory? It feels more like a decade has passed since those simpler times.

  There’s a tap at the passenger side window, and I look over to see Blaire’s red curls illuminated through the glass. I unlock the door as my friend jumps into the parked car, giving me a huge bearhug the second she’s inside.

  “You’re here,” Blaire says, taking a good look at me, “And you’re pregnant as fuck.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware,” I laugh, smiling at her from the driver’s seat.

  “I just can’t believe you came back,” she says quietly, “I thought you wanted to keep this whole baby thing a secret?”

  “Well. Secret’s out,” I sigh, shoving a hand roughly through my hair, “Dean and Buck drove up to Boston for a surprise visit about a month ago.”

  “Oh, shit…” Blaire breathes.

  “Yeah. It wasn’t a pretty scene,” I sigh, letting my head fall back against the seat.

  “But then… What are you doing here? And all by yourself?” Blaire asks.

  “Allie couldn't get away from school,” I tell her, “It’s her last semester of undergrad, so shit’s crazy up there. But she was nice enough to let me borrow her car.”

  “You drove all the way down from Boston? For a football game?” Blaire asks, “I’m sorry, but I don’t get it. What’s the point?”

  “The point is, I made a huge mistake with Dean,” I tell her, “Not only did I keep this baby a secret from him, I lied about some other guy being the father to try and protect him.”

  “Protect him from what?” Blaire asks quietly.

  “I don’t even know,” I say around the tight knot in my throat, “From being saddled with me and a kid he didn’t ask for for the rest of his life? From throwing his life away for some girl he barely even got to know?”

  “Hey,” Blaire says, taking my hand in hers, “Any guy would be lucky to be saddled with you, Cahill.”

  “Thanks… I think?” I smile sadly.

  “So what’s the plan for tonight?” Blaire asks, trying to distract me from my pain.

  “I have to find a way to talk to Dean,” I tell her, “He’s not answering any of my calls or texts, I’m not sure he’d let me into his apartment if I showed up. This is the only place where I can be sure to find him.”

  “But aren’t you worried about your dad seeing you?” Blaire asks.

  “You bet your ass I am,” I tell her, “But that’s a risk I’m just gonna have to take.”

  “Well OK then,” Blaire says, looking up at the stadium, “Let’s get in there and find your baby daddy.”

  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, rollin
g 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 m
arches 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.”