by Claire Adams
We filed into the gym where Coach Summers was waiting for us. I couldn’t look the man in the eye, convinced I had guilt written all over my face.
“Two hours, then I want every one of you on the field. I understand you boys had quite the shindig last night. I hope it was worth it because you’re gonna sweat buckets on that field today,” he said, walking around the gym. “This is your future. Not mine. I don’t give a shit if any of you gets picked up, but you will NOT embarrass me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Coach!” we all yelled at the same time.
He nodded, looked at each of us and ordered the trainers to whip our sorry asses into shape. When he looked at me, I thought for sure he knew I had taken his daughter to bed last night. Thank God it was the end of the year. There was no way I could look at the man and not feel like crawling under a rock.
One of the trainers ordered me to follow him, and I dutifully followed.
“You’re stronger than you were,” he said, as he spotted me on the bench. “I think this is a good weight for you to stay at. You get too bulky and it’ll interfere with your speed and agility.”
I grunted in agreement, not feeling real chatty with two-hundred and fifty pounds hovering over my chest. I was just happy to be getting to work.
“That’s it. Everybody, grab your shake and get your asses out on the field!” the assistant coach shouted.
We all grabbed the protein shakes that had been set on the table for us and made our way out to the field. It was already warm and humid out. I loved Miami, but the damn humidity made practice with a hangover brutal.
As we passed Coach Summers and the various people who would be helping with the practice, I could see his lip curling in disgust.
“You guys reek! I might get drunk just smelling you all! Damn, boys!”
There were a lot of chuckles. No matter how often we had all been told the same thing since way back in high school, few of us actually listened. Maybe one day, but not likely. I didn’t drink the night before a game. Most of us didn’t, but practice in the off-season wasn’t nearly as important. So we thought.
The drills were grueling. As I sat on the bench, sucking down water, Coach Summers approached. I felt my guts twist in my stomach.
“What’s up, Coach?” I asked, as nonchalantly as I could.
“Rough night?” he asked.
“Not really,” I replied, as I shook my head, “just have a lot on my mind.”
I wasn’t going to tell him it was his daughter that was preoccupying my thoughts. The past four years, we had all watched her grow up. I had always thought of her as mousy. She was tiny and quiet, and never really stood out. She was always by her daddy’s side, cheering on him and the team, but she rarely spoke to any of the players.
It was an unspoken rule that nobody messed with the coach’s daughter. Truth be told, I’d never had any interest in messing with her until last night when she burst out of that little shell she’d been hiding in for the past four years.
“You got a great opportunity coming. Don’t screw it up by letting your mind drift now. Focus, Milo. Focus on the goal. Do you want to make a career out of playing football?”
“Yes. Absolutely. It’s really all I’ve got planned. It’s not like I was an excellent student,” I admitted, a little ashamed.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder.
“I think you can do this. You have to set your mind to it. I’m not going to let you fail. When you first came to me all those years ago, I knew you were special. I knew you were going places.”
I smiled, thinking back on those days.
“Thank you for taking a chance on a wild foster kid, Coach. It means a lot to me.” I wanted this so bad. I wanted to make a difference. I had all these dreams of using my big fat NFL paycheck to support foster kids in any way I could. I wanted to be one of the success stories.
“This is your chance. Quit the damn partying and get your head in the game. Stop thinking about the boozing and women and think about your future. Don’t be so hung up on missing the first round of picks. This isn’t over,” he said, placing a hand on my padded thigh.
“Thank you for believing in me.”
“Hell, kid. If you look good, I look good. I need one of you dipshits to make the NFL so I can make it into the big leagues myself,” he teased.
I laughed and nodded my head.
“I want to do that for you. I really do. I’m going to put it all out on the field next week. I promise you, I’ll make you proud, even if I don’t get picked up.”
He stood up and looked down at me with what I imagined was fatherly pride. I had never known that look. Coach had been the closest thing to a father figure in my life, and I truly didn’t want to disappoint him. That meant no more messing around with his daughter. I couldn’t do that to him.
“Get out there and show those guys what a real quarterback looks like,” he ordered.
Dropping my water bottle, I jumped off the bench, grabbed my helmet and ran back onto the field. I felt inspired, and I wanted to show him I was worth his effort. I could do this.
Chapter 3
Liza
“No!” I yelled at the stick in my hands. This couldn’t be happening. “No, no, no.”
I picked up the little white stick and stared at the two pink lines glaring back at me.
“This is bullshit. Bullshit!”
My words did not make that second line fade away. I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. How could this happen to someone like me? I was a good girl. I never did anything reckless in my life, and now I’d managed to get pregnant after a one-night-stand?
“I’ll take another one,” I told myself, looking in the mirror at my pale features. “This is a false-positive.”
Even as I said the words, I knew it was bullshit. I’d never missed a period in my life. I was not one of those girls who was ever late, no matter how stressed I was. I just wasn’t. I knew the test was right. I could take a hundred and they would all tell me the same thing. My body was more reliable than a clock.
Ever since my mother had died, my health had been his priority. He was convinced he could have saved my mother had he forced her to go to the doctor more often. Maybe he could have, maybe he couldn’t. The doctor explained ovarian cancer and why it managed to kill so many women. He had reinforced the need for regular checkups, especially with my family history. Much to my embarrassment, the doctor had gone over the signs and symptoms of ovarian cancer. I had gotten over the initial horror of my father asking me if things were running “normal.”
It was only slightly weird that my father was so involved with my health, but I humored him. It gave him some measure of peace and comfort, so I went along with it. I knew it would kill my dad if I were to get sick and die. Given all of that, a baby wasn’t so bad in the grand scheme of things.
In the back of my head, I could already hear his lecture playing in my mind. It would be delivered with that look of supreme disappointment on his face. An idea formed. Maybe I could tell him I had cancer. It would freak him out; then I would say I was just joking and that I was pregnant. He would be so thrilled I wasn’t going to fight the same battle as my mother, the baby would seem like good news in comparison.
No, I couldn’t do that to him. That was too cruel. But it could definitely be funny had it not been such a serious topic.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I whispered into the mirror. “I’m so sorry.”
After I washed my face, I began to pace my apartment. I had to tell Milo, too. That wouldn’t be awkward at all. I didn’t expect him to jump at the opportunity, but I had to at least let him know he was going to be a father. I had a feeling he would question whether or not it was his, and my behavior that night certainly gave him no reason to believe anything different.
“Fuck!” I shouted into the room.
There were options—I knew that. But I had run this scenario through my head a million times. I knew what I would do. My only option was to have the
child. It would certainly throw a wrench in my plans for the future. I graduated in a week. One fucking week left of college and I get knocked up!
Taking another look in the mirror, I put on a little makeup and headed out of the dorm. My feet felt heavy as I walked across campus to the row of frat houses. I started giggling uncontrollably. How had my life taken such a huge wrong turn? After four years of toeing the line, I was about to walk into a frat house that was notorious for debauchery and drunken sex to inform the king of those debauched residents that he had impregnated me.
Getting into the house was easy. Most of the guys were in class or passed out. As I walked through the living room and made my way to the staircase, I stepped over empty liquor bottles and—ironically—a half-empty box of condoms.
“Here goes nothing,” I mumbled under my breath as I took the first step.
Knocking on his closed bedroom door, I hoped he was home. I didn’t want to have to look for him in the sports complex where my dad’s office was located. That could be a very bad scene.
I played out how that conversation would go.
“Hey, Dad, I was just looking for your star quarterback to tell him he knocked me up during our drunken one-night stand a couple weeks ago.”
Then he would find Milo, scream and yell for an hour or more, then lock me in a room for the rest of my life. I would rather skip an embarrassing scene in front of the entire football team and the various other athletes that hung out in the complex.
I decided to wait a little longer and was finally relieved to hear movement behind the door. Thank God, he was here. The door opened a few inches, but it was the bouncy cheerleader from the night I had found Milo. Her eyes dropped to slits as she glared at me.
She sneered as she pulled the door open. Milo was in his bed, the sheet thrown over his obviously naked body. The bouncy cheerleader turned around, and it was then that I saw she was wearing nothing more than what was obviously one of Milo’s t-shirts.
Looking at Milo, I saw a brief glimpse of shame and maybe even an apology in his expression.
“Jessica was just leaving,” he muttered.
Jessica looked at me and then him, obviously unhappy to be dismissed. She bent over and picked up a pair of black panties that had been tossed on the floor. When she bent over to pull them on, I was given a full view of her crotch.
I scoffed in disgust.
“I’ll get your shirt back to you later, sweetie,” she cooed, before leaning over and giving him a quick kiss.
“Fine,” he mumbled, looking sheepish.
The woman grabbed her shoes and slid them on her feet and sauntered towards me. There was an evil grin on her face as she stopped in front of me.
“Now who does he belong to?” she whispered, as she made her way out the door.
Rolling my eyes, I stepped aside. I wasn’t going to claim the guy for my own. He had been the best-looking man in the room that night, and I’d always had a crush on him, so the timing was perfect. It was nothing more than a case of him being in the right place at the right time.
I closed the door behind her, not exactly interested in advertising my situation. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to see the naked man in the bed.
When I turned around, he was looking at me in a way that made me nervous. I chose to stay by the door.
“What’s up?” he asked, sitting up in the bed, the sheet barely covering his crotch.
“Can we talk?” I asked, quietly.
I had a feeling he thought I’d stopped by for another reason, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
“Talk?” he said, his voice low and husky.
I had to stop myself from curling my lip and gagging. He was out of his mind if he thought I’d have sex with him after he just screwed that nasty skank. I made a note to myself to have every STD test available run right away. I had been stupid to have unprotected sex with him. So, so stupid. I had risked a lot more than an unplanned pregnancy.
I cleared my throat.
“Yes, talk.”
He stood up, letting the sheet fall. I looked away, suddenly embarrassed, and I knew he was doing it on purpose.
“Sure about that?” he asked again, stroking his erection.
I couldn’t stop the eyeroll. This guy was a serious player, and not a guy I wanted to be a role model for my child.
“Pretty sure. I just need a couple minutes of your time. That’s it,” I reiterated.
He didn’t look happy.
“Look, I have to get to practice. I don’t think your daddy would appreciate me being late, even if I was talking to his darling daughter. Maybe we can talk tonight?”
I turned to look at him. He was a world-class jerk.
“You know, I think I’m good. Never mind,” I said, regretting my decision to tell him in person.
“Well then, we don’t want to keep daddy waiting,” he said, grinning.
I spun around and headed out the door. I had tried to tell him. He didn’t want to hear, so I wasn’t going to force him to listen. I didn’t need anything from him, and I certainly didn’t want him in my life—in any capacity. I wasn’t going to feel guilty about not telling him. Honestly, I had a feeling he wouldn’t want to know. If the man was having unprotected sex on a regular basis, I was likely not the first girl he’d knocked up. Hard telling how many miniature versions of Milo might be running around out there.
My stomach rolled over as I thought about a future with this man in my life. I didn’t want him sharing custody of my child. I could only imagine what my kid would be exposed to. Loose women, partying and possibly even drugs.
I couldn’t do it. I could not expose a child to that kind of life. I would rather raise the child on my own than stress out about what he or she would be exposed to.
I started laughing as I walked, ignoring the stares and whispers. My life was a joke. I was already imagining custody battles and child endangerment issues and I was barely two weeks along.
My phone rang, and when I looked at the screen, I saw Hallie’s photo. I hesitated before answering but figured I better or she would hunt me down and I couldn’t face her in person yet. I knew she would lecture me as well. I had been absolutely reckless, despite all of her warnings.
“Hey,” I said, pretending everything was just great.
“Hey, are we going out tonight? One more week!” she screamed.
I laughed, and at first, I was going to say yes, but then remembered I couldn’t go out drinking. Not if I wanted to be a responsible mother.
“Uh, I can’t. I have to finish up a report,” I lied. “And then I need to get started packing my room. I won’t have much free time next week,” I added, hoping to sell my story.
“Lame excuse,” she grumbled.
“Sorry. I put off too much stuff. Now I’m paying for my procrastination,” I mumbled, trying to sound as bummed as she did.
“Fine, but we are going out at least once after graduation. You won’t have any excuses then.”
“I will, I promise,” I said, knowing I was lying through my teeth. I could go out, but I wouldn’t be drinking and partying in celebration.
Soon I would have to find the right time to tell her, but that wasn’t today. I needed today to get my own head on straight. My whole world had just been turned upside down. I deserved a few hours to process it all, to cry, and to rage at myself for being so reckless.
Walking across campus to my dorm, I thought about how much my life would change, and how I would handle it. I wouldn’t think about Milo ever again. I would forget all about that night and pretend my child was the product of immaculate conception.
Milo was out of my life for good. I would never see him again, and he would never know he had a child.
Chapter 4
Milo
They sometimes say that fate has a way of making things work out, and I believed it. Last season I had fucked up. I fucked up bad, and I could admit it. When I got benched and sat down as the backup quarterback, I wasn’t all
that surprised. It sucked, but I knew it was my own fault.
Sitting on the bench was not my idea of fulfilling my dreams of playing in the NFL. In fact, I could see those dreams evaporating before my very eyes. I was twenty-seven, and my career was over. At least I’d thought it was until I got a call that reminded me of an old saying one of my social workers had always told me. When one door closes, look for a window.
Coach Summers was my window. He had been pulled up to the NFL three years ago, and his luck had not been so great either. He needed me, or I needed him, one or the other. It didn’t matter. I was back in the game and had another chance to make my dreams come true.
“Hey, Coach!” I greeted him.
We were meeting at a restaurant to catch up, now that all the business had been taken care of.
“You’re looking good, Milo!” he said, standing to shake my hand.
“How’s it going?” I asked him, taking my seat at the small table. The waiter quickly took my drink order. Wanting to make a good impression, I ordered a Coke instead of alcohol.
“Not as great as I would like, but I’m hoping you can change that for me.”
I nodded. “I hope so too. So, what happened to your QB?”
He shook his head in frustration. “First guy goes and gets his leg broke, and no, he wasn’t on the field. The dipshit slipped at home while walking to his pool. Then my backup went and got a couple ribs broke. That one was on the field, and you can bet the line has already been put on notice.”
“I hope I can help you turn this place around,” I told him sincerely.
“You damn well better. From what I understand, your agent negotiated one hell of a deal for a benched quarterback. You want to tell me what that was all about?”
I took a deep breath, knowing I couldn’t lie.
“I got into the club and party scene, Coach. I was late for practice a few times, and I just wasn’t giving my best.”
Nodding, he went on. “I get it. You aren’t the first one to fall into that trap. You know I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior. I hope that’s all in your past.”
