Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance Read Free Page B

to us.
    “What’s going on?” The realization that this isn’t a normal birth process seems to have just struck him.
    “Sir?” The nurse interrupts, giving Mack a sharp look and cutting through our collective shock.
    “Yes?”
    “Come with me.”
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Cameron
    A s the doctor whisks Mack away, Chelsea slumps back down into the worn hospital chair beside her mother. Her caramel cheeks are shining with tears and her entire body is vibrating. I want to scoop her up from the chair, pull her against my chest and let my heartbeat tell her that this is all going to be fine. I know my mouth doesn’t have the words she needs to hear. My lips might betray my own doubts that Lauren and the baby are going to be all right. My heart is fearless, though. The steady, strong beat would reassure her in ways that mere words never could.
    Instead, I simply place my hand on her shoulder. The gesture feels so inadequate, but I watch as a ripple seems to flow through her body and her muscles relax.
    “Is mom OK? Chelsea? What does that mean? You saw a foot?” Chris rattles off the questions sailing through his brain like machine gun fire. The brave face he so carefully crafts for all his selfies breaks into shards, leaving a frightened boy in its place.
    “Hey, man,” I hold up my hand and wave him in closer to my side, “your mom is gonna be just fine. I don’t know a lot about babies, but it seems like every birth is like a game of football, you know what I mean?”
    Chris moves toward me, his eyebrows knit together and his deep brown eyes clearly searching my face for a better answer.
    I take a deep breath, squeeze Chelsea’s shoulder with one hand and clap Chris on his shoulder with the other. “I mean it. We all know how birth is supposed to go, just like a game. You know the set-up, you have a plan, you expect the plays to go more or less as you worked it out, right? But sometimes, something crazy happens. Like the defense calls an all out blitz or a woman gives birth in a cab, but it doesn’t mean the play is over, right? You don’t throw in the towel just because you might as well toss the playbook in the trash. You call an audible and fight harder for your win. Your mom has the best team for her. She’s got the best doctors, she’s got your dad; she’s got this.”
    “You think so?” Chris watches me closely, hope glittering in his eyes.
    “I know so,” I square off my shoulders. “Besides, your mom is tough and I bet your little sister is, too. I’m telling you, she’s got this.”
    Chris slowly nods his head, looking down the hall in the direction Mack disappeared. “Yeah,” a smile twitches across his lips, “yeah! Mom’s gonna be fine. She’s way tougher than any quarterback. She can do this.” He perks up with confidence.
    “I don’t doubt that at all,” I answer. I mean it.
    Glancing down toward Chelsea, I can see she’s stopped crying, instead watching me closely. With her head tilted slightly and her eyes locking on mine, I can’t quite tell if she’s feeling any better or about to give me hell for my terrible comparison. I don’t have a chance to find out, though. A nurse with ginger hair and a severe look on her face interrupts us.
    “Excuse me?”
    Chelsea pops out of her seat like she’s spring-loaded, “Are they all right?” Her words are barely a whisper, yet hang in the air.
    “They are,” the nurse smiles broadly and her tired face shows a hint of the beauty it once wore. “They said it was OK for visitors, so you can find them two floors up in room 411. Family only,” her eyes quickly flit over me dismissively before she gives Chelsea another quick smile and walks away.
    “Thank you. Jesus, God, thank you!” Chelsea’s mother exclaims. Until now, her face has been a stone wall. Now, tears spring from her eyes as she raises her hands toward the ceiling in praise.
    “Let’s go!” Chris shakes my hand off his shoulder and begins to charge down the