“She’s about six months old.”
Silence fills the room.
He taps that finger again. “I’m guessing from the look on your face, you just found out.”
I nod. See, Sully always knows things.
“That’s…” He’s quiet for another long minute. Damn, I rendered the man speechless, which is tough to do. I prepare myself for the lecture that’s sure to come.
He clears his throat. “I guess congratulations are in order.” It’s my turn to be surprised. “Son, there are few things in a man’s life as special as having a child.”
And he goes on to give me the pep talk I didn’t know I needed.
When he walks me out twenty minutes later, he pats me on the shoulder. “Is the baby mama around to help?” His lips pull up on one side. “I hear the kids use that term.”
“No, sir. She’s not, but, uh, I have a friend who’s been helping.”
“A friend, huh?” His bushy eyebrows quirk up. “A girl?”
I nod slowly.
He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t. Weird. Coach never holds back.
But he knows my family situation well enough not to ask if my parents can lend a hand. A snowball has a better chance in hell than my father staying sober long enough to babysit.
Instead, Sully pats me on the shoulder again. Despite the motivational chat he just gave me, he looks kinda sad. Resigned, even. A knot of dread forms in my gut.
He releases a deep sigh and gives me a small smile. “Good. Well, guess you know this means you’d better get to bed on time each night. No dillydallying or you’ll never get enough rest. I remember when my Beth Ann used to wake up at all hours. It was hell.” He chuckles. “I don’t envy you, but you’re young. Healthy. You can do this. Just love up on that little girl and stay focused on her and school, and you’ll be all right.”
It’s not until I’m in my car, driving home, that I realize he didn’t mention staying focused on football.
But he must have meant to stay focused on the game too. Right?
My coach lives for football. He must know that I do as well, no matter my new situation.
27
GABBY
When I openthe front door, I’m surprised to see so many people on my front porch. I’m expecting Rider and Poppy, but not my brother, Tank, Olly, and Trevor—a wall of football muscles—standing behind them. And they’re all loaded down with baby supplies.
“Hey, guys. That’sa lotof stuff.”
Tank points to Rider. “Daddy here thought Poppy needed everything.”
“Does Bree know you call me Daddy?” Rider asks.
We all laugh, and I take Poppy out of Rider’s arms since she’s reaching for me.
“Ga-ga.”
I stare at her. “Did you just try to say Gabby?”
She claps. “Ga-ga.”
“Aww, Poppy. I love you.” I hug her close, or as close as I can get with her puffy winter jacket on. It’s in the high fifties, not quite Abominable Snowbaby weather, but I love that Rider thought to keep her warm.
“Poppy Seed!” Tank cries. “How could you say Gabby first? We were working so hard on this last night. You were gonna say Uncle Tanky first, remember?”
