Babymaker: A Best Friend's Secret Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “No need to get upset,” Tony said, smiling at me. “I can see it on your face. You must like her.”

  “She’s my trainer. That’s all.”

  “That’s not all. I saw how you two looked at each other. I heard a little of your conversation. She’s much more than just a trainer.”

  “You piece of shit.”

  He held his hands up. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

  “I’m not supposed to assume you’re threatening her?”

  He dropped his hands. “Oh, then you do have the right idea.”

  “Fucking bastard.” I shifted my weight, but my knee hurt too much. “Is that all you’re here for?”

  “More or less. I just want you to see that I can reach you anywhere. I see things and I hear things. I know more than you realize.”

  “Great. Now fuck off.”

  He sighed. “One day you’ll appreciate me, Owen. One day you’ll need something. Maybe you’ll kill a hooker by mistake, or you’ll get caught with drugs, or drunk driving. One day you’ll need our help and we’ll be there for you.”

  “I won’t need you.”

  “You will. All you NFL kids are the same.”

  “Good. I’m glad you think so. I’ll be very happy when I prove your ass wrong.”

  Tony stood up. “We’ll see about that.” He looked at his watch. “The game should be over by now, and you probably owe me five thousand dollars.” He looked back at me. “How does one week sound?”

  “I can’t get you that money in a week.”

  “Why not? I know how much money you make. It’s a fucking ton.”

  “I put all of my money into old debt. I don’t have any cash lying around.”

  “You’ll make something work, I’m sure.”

  “Tony, I need at least two weeks until my next check.”

  “One week.” He walked over to the door. “Bye, Owen.”

  Just then, I heard the low murmur of the guys coming back down the hall from the field. They sounded dejected and quiet, and I knew what that meant.

  Tony was right. We had lost the game.

  When I looked back toward him, he was gone. Guys slowly filtered into the training room, looking annoyed.

  That motherfucking bastard Tony. He came here just to threaten me and give me an absurd deadline. I didn’t know what his game was, but I wasn’t going to give in to him. I was going to find a way out and be done with the fucking mafia.

  To make shit worse, I had nearly wrecked my knee for nothing. We didn’t even win the game. Sure, it was an important play and a good touchdown, but it didn’t really matter in the long run. If I had sat out a few plays and rested up, we’d still be just as well off.

  I hated to admit it, but Taylor was right. I should have thought more long-term. I needed to start thinking in terms of a career, not in terms of each individual game.

  I shook my head, tensed my knee, and hoped that the MRI would come back negative.

  19

  Taylor

  All of that risk and they didn’t even win the game. I was furious with Owen, but I didn’t say anything to him about it. I could tell that he was upset himself.

  He was strange after that man left. He didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t even make a single dirty, flirtatious comment to me. Even when I had been trying to put distance between us he had made at least one or two comments a day. It was part of who he was.

  But when I returned, he didn’t want to talk. Instead, it was all business with him.

  That suited me just fine, but I knew something had happened, and it definitely had to do with that guy.

  The next day, Owen had his MRI. I wasn’t around for that, and we wouldn’t get the results of it for at least another day or two, but I knew he’d be stressed. I sent him a text wishing him good luck, but I didn’t hear back.

  That was fine. If Owen was going to act that way, then I’d just accept it. We’d been getting too close anyway.

  But something kept nagging at me. It was the way Owen’s attitude had shifted as soon as that guy had appeared.

  Monday came, and I was at work early. Owen had the morning off, which meant I wouldn’t see him until later in the day for our session. Instead of sitting around doing nothing, I decided to do a little investigating.

  I started with the training staff.

  “Hey, Michael,” I said, poking my head into the head trainer’s office.

  “Morning, Taylor.”

  “Can I ask you a quick question?”

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  I walked into his office and sat down. “How well do you know the staff around here?”

  “Pretty well. I’ve been with the team for six years now. Why?”

  “I saw a guy yesterday. I’ve never seen him before. He’s pretty tall, wore a suit, dark hair. Looked Italian.”

  Michael frowned. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “He had tattoos. Brown shoes. He was in the back training room after the game on Sunday.”

  “Huh. Really?” Michael shrugged. “Sorry. No clue.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I just didn’t know him. He was talking to Owen like they knew each other.”

  “Maybe he was someone Owen brought in.”

  “Oh, yeah. Probably. Thanks, Michael.”

  “Any time.”

  I stood up and left his office more confused than before.

  That man didn’t seem like someone Owen had wanted to see. I had assumed he was just another doctor, or maybe some coach I hadn’t recognized, but Michael didn’t seem to know who I was talking about. It wasn’t impossible that he just didn’t know who it was, but that would be surprising.

  I went into the main office and asked a few other coworkers, but none of them knew who I was talking about. Before I could bug more people, the training staff had to head out to the practice field for the morning session.

  Since Owen wasn’t practicing, I didn’t have much to do. I mainly stood around and watched everyone else get to work. I scanned the fair number of people standing around and watching, but I couldn’t spot that man from yesterday. I didn’t see him with the coaching staff, and I didn’t see him with the support.

  I felt frustrated as the day wore on. I knew I should just let it go, but for some reason I couldn’t.

  It was the look on Owen’s face when he first saw the man. He had looked shocked, purely shocked, and then angry. It was almost as if he hadn’t expect the guy to show up there, and then he was pissed off that he had.

  Finally, the morning session ended, and I knew Owen would be coming in for a light session. I hadn’t talked to him yet about his MRI, so I looked forward to finding out what it had been like. I headed back to my desk, and maybe fifteen minutes later, I got called down to the training room.

  I found Owen sitting against the wall. He looked up when I walked in.

  “Hey, Owen,” I said.

  “Taylor.”

  “How’d it go?”

  He shrugged. “They put me in a big, loud machine, and now I’m here.”

  “Sounds exciting. When do we find out?”

  “I don’t know. Soon.”

  I sat down next to him. “How are you feeling?”

  “Annoyed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m fine,” he said. “My knee is fine.”

  “Let’s see it.”

  He stretched it out, but I wasn’t watching his leg. I watched his face instead, and I saw what I had suspected I would: a small flinch of pain as he straightened it out.

  He wasn’t fine. He was still trying to power through.

  “Okay then. Let’s see what we can do,” I said, and I started in on a light stretching exercise.

  If he was in pain, he did a good job of hiding it. I had to admit that I was impressed. If he was seriously injured, which he really might have been, there should have been considerable pain.

  Either he wasn’t as hurt as we fe
ared, or he was good at pretending.

  “So listen,” I said, “about Sunday.”

  “We don’t have to go over it again,” he grunted. “I know you were right.”

  I paused, surprised. I never thought I’d hear those words from him.

  “Really?”

  “I shouldn’t have gone for it. All that risk for one tiny play that didn’t even matter in the long run.”

  I nodded slowly. “Long-term thinking,” I said.

  “That’s not my specialty. I live in the moment, and I live fast. Always have.”

  “You’re not a kid anymore, Owen.”

  “I know that.”

  I bit my lip, and we went through a few more stretches. He seemed a little off, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.

  “I meant to ask you,” I said finally as we finished one exercise and took a short break. “Who was that guy?”

  He looked at me sharply. “What?”

  “The guy who visited you when we were in the training room. He was in a suit.” I paused. “You seemed unhappy to see him.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Well, I’ve been asking around, but nobody seems to know him.”

  He stared hard at me. “Why would you ask around?”

  “Because you seemed upset. I wanted to see if I could help.”

  “You can’t help.”

  “Okay,” I said, surprised by his sudden change in mood.

  “And you should stop asking. That guy was nobody. Forget about him.”

  “Okay,” I said again.

  Owen struggled to his feet. “I think we’re done for today.”

  “We have a few more exercises—” I started to say, but he cut me off.

  “See you later.” He turned and quickly left the room.

  I stared after him, shocked at how that had played out.

  I had suspected he’d be annoyed, but I had never guessed he’d be that angry. Maybe I was being a little pushy, but I meant well.

  Still, the whole thing was bizarre. He didn’t want to talk about it, so I was going to drop it, but I knew something else was going on, something on top of his injury and whatever was happening between the two of us. Maybe it was even more important than anything else.

  I sat in the training room, alone with my thoughts, trying to figure out where the heck things had gone wrong.

  20

  Owen

  I hated blowing Taylor off like that.

  The last thing I wanted was to be on bad terms with her. It fucking pained me to walk away from her, but I couldn’t sit around and try to answer her questions. I wasn’t a good liar, and I was afraid she’d see right through me.

  She was too perceptive. It scared me a little bit to think about. She had known something was up with Tony the second she saw him, even though I hadn’t given her any real indication to worry. We spent a lot of time together, and she must have gotten good at reading me.

  I had to keep her away from him. It wasn’t just because I was afraid of her finding out about my mafia connections, although that was a real problem. I couldn’t let her get sucked into my fucking bullshit, and I wanted Tony to stay as far from her as possible.

  Maybe it was a little too late for that. She was already asking questions, and she probably knew something was up just based on the way I had responded. Maybe she’d back down and let it go, but I doubted that would be the case.

  I worried about it all that night on top of my other problems. I hadn’t heard back from the team doctors yet about my MRI, so I had no clue how bad the damage was.

  The pain wasn’t awful. It was getting better every day, but I also wasn’t straining it much. Coach had me sitting out of practice and mostly just watching film. That, plus my usual therapy sessions with Taylor.

  I had barely missed any field time, and yet I already wanted to get back out there. I hated being on the sidelines instead of in the thick of things. I wanted to burst through the line and break tackles like I normally did. That was the best way for me to get rid of my stress, but it would be stupid to try to push myself. I needed to listen to my coaches and to heal.

  The next day, I was in the facility early. I got into the hot tub and soaked myself while I waited for Taylor to come find me.

  I heard her voice before I saw her. She was asking people where she could find me, and one of the other trainers pointed her into the hot tub room. She walked inside and sat down on the edge of the tub.

  “You look comfortable,” she said.

  “I got nothing better to do.”

  “We should get to work.”

  I sighed. “Ten more minutes.”

  “I don’t have ten minutes. I have a schedule.”

  I grinned at her. “How about you join me then? We can do some work in here.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t pretend like you already forgot.”

  She blushed and looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. I’m talking about the time I fucked you until you begged to come on my big long cock.”

  “Owen! Not so loud.”

  “Nobody can hear us.”

  “Come on, get out. We need to do your stretches.”

  “You get in here. I’ll stretch you.”

  She made a face. “Don’t be an ass.”

  I laughed and stood up. “Fine. Grab me a towel?”

  She grabbed one from the stack and tossed it to me, I toweled myself off, wearing only a pair of mesh shorts. I noticed that she was watching me rather intently, but that was okay. I wanted her to think about the other night, about how I had made her body feel. Even if she was pissed at me, I knew she still wanted to feel that way again.

  “Come on,” she said. “Now you’re just putting on a show.”

  I laughed. “Best show around.”

  “Let’s go.”

  I followed her back out into the main training room, back into the hall, and down toward our usual spot. We walked into the exercise room, and I watched while she rolled out the padded mats we used.

  When she was done, we launched into our normal routine. We weren’t talking much, and I could feel the strain from the day before still settled over both of us. We normally had an easy, comfortable conversation going throughout the whole thing, but this morning it was pure business.

  Taylor finished my leg and switched to the other one. “Listen, about yesterday,” I said.

  “It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have been prying.”

  “I get it. You just want to help.” I paused. “But that guy is bad news, Taylor. Please, stay far, far away from that man.”

  She stared at me for a second and then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I won’t ask who he is. I just want you to know that you can trust me.”

  “I know.”

  “Good.” She smiled. “Now leg out, cripple.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As I stretched out, someone appeared in the doorway. Taylor stood up, and I saw the head doctor looking in at us.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Morning, doc,” I answered.

  “Doctor Travis,” Taylor said.

  “Owen, can I speak with you privately?” he asked.

  “It’s okay, doc. Just give it to me here.”

  He frowned. “I’d rather we were alone.”

  “I’ll leave,” Taylor said, standing.

  “Just tell me, doc. Is it bad?”

  He sighed. “Well, Taylor, you might as well hear. Owen, there is no permanent or long-term damage to your knee. The scan came back negative. That’s not to say that you’re fine and cleared to play, but I don’t think this is going to end your season.”

  That was exactly the news I needed to hear. I let out a huge breath. I felt like an enormous weight was lifted from my chest.

  Part of me had thought my career was over. There had been a serious chance that it was, and that little voice in the back of my head ha
dn’t been quiet about it. I had felt like everything was falling apart around me. Between my injury, Tony, and Taylor, things had been looking bad.

  This was some much-needed good fucking news.

  “Thanks, doc,” I said. “That’s good news.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank your therapist here. Whatever she’s doing with you is clearly working.”

  I grinned at her. “She works me hard.”

  “Good,” Doctor Travis said. “I already told Coach Kelly. He’s on his way down here to speak with you now.”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  “Good luck.” He smiled, nodded, and then left.

  Taylor grinned at me. “That’s awesome news,” she said.

  “Part of me thought my career was over,” I admitted.

  “Not me. I never thought that for a second.”

  “Why?”

  “Because some stupid injury isn’t going to stop Owen Rack.”

  I grinned at her, and I wanted to say something back, but we were interrupted by Coach Kelly coming into the room.

  Coach was a short man, pale and in his mid-fifties. His hair was thinning and gray, and he had an intense demeanor. Coach was a drill sergeant, and he expected the team to function exactly the way he wanted it to.

  “Rack,” he said. “How you feelin’?”

  “Better now.”

  “I saw Doc Travis on the way over. I guess he gave you the good news.”

  “Yeah, Coach. Does this mean I’m playing on Sunday?”

  He laughed. “No. You’re not.”

  I blinked, surprised. “But he said I’m not seriously hurt.”

  “Yeah, but you’re still hurt.” Kelly looked at Taylor. “Tell him how injuries work. Explain to the young man that small injuries can turn into big ones unless they heal.”

  Taylor looked at me. “What he said.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I said to Coach.

  He shook his head. “Even if it’s not, we’re not practicing you all week, and you’re missing the next game.”

  “Fuck,” I said.

  This was my worst fear.

  The NFL was full of stories like this. A guy got injured, giving his replacement a shot. The replacement played great, earning him a starting role, and the original guy never started again.