I let out a sigh of relief. Even though it’s the first week of November, we’re in the middle of a heat wave, and I just want a cold shower, a massive dinner, and my bed. Except I have at least two hours of homework before I can call it a day.
“Olly,” Santos calls out. “Need to talk to you a sec.”
“What’s up, Coach?”
“Are you familiar with Big Tykes Football?”
“Of course. Great program. I did their summer sessions in Austin for years.”
“That’s what they told me.” He gives me a rare smile. “They asked if you’d be interested in being one of their spokesmen. They’ve been impressed with your rehab and comeback and think you’d be a wonderful role model for their athletes. It would be a minimal commitment in the fall, but the spring would require several speaking engagements.”
“That’s so cool. I’d love to do it.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to know what it pays?”
Sometimes I forget college students can make money without ruining their eligibility. “Sure.”
He chuckles. “I like that about you. You’re not always angling to get something.”
“Thank you, sir. I try to make a contribution to my community when I can.” I’m not blowing smoke up his ass. My parents raised me to do volunteer work, which is how I became an Eagle Scout.
“Listen, their only concern was that party in August. I spoke to your roommates, and each one assured me you weren’t involved. They said you’re in a committed relationship and would never jump in a pool of naked women. So I assured Big Tykes that you’re staying out of trouble and are a model athlete in my program.”
“Thank you for vouching for me.”
“It’s a three-year commitment, and since they’re nationwide, you can do your required speaking and press engagements with them from whatever city you’re at when you get drafted.”
My attention snags on the “when” I get drafted part. It’s a huge relief to hear him phrase it that way.
When he tells me what the program is willing to pay me, I almost fall over in shock. Holy shit, that’s a lot of money. I could help Maggie with the property taxes, my parents with my grandfather’s insulin, and afford whatever the twins need and their hospital bill.
Coach gathers his things on the sideline. “Keep your nose clean this fall, because nothing will ruin this deal faster than an ill-timed kegger that gets out of control. One of their reps will be in touch.”
“Yes, sir.”
The field has cleared out, and only a few assistant coaches are lingering around. This would be a good time to tell Santos about Maggie and how I might need to take off when she goes into labor. Because the closer we get to delivery, the more determined I am to be there.
But would that affect this sponsorship? Will I blow it if Big Tykes finds out I have a pregnant girlfriend?
I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. Telling Coach is the right thing to do.
I open my mouth, about to unload everything on him, when one of the NFL recruiters who’s been hanging around this week jogs up to us. “Can I have a word, Coach?”
Santos pats my arm. “Proud of you, son.” Then he’s gone.
I close my eyes, emotions swarming my chest. Deep down, I feel like I’m hiding Maggie from the world, and that goes against every molecule in my body.
When I get home, I’m relieved to find her awake. She’s sitting up in bed, working on her laptop. Her black-rimmed glasses are perched on her nose. She’s cute as hell, so studious-looking. Her hair is in a knot on top of her head, and she’s stretching out one of my white t-shirts with that beautiful belly. I feel like a caveman when I look at my pregnant girlfriend, strangely proud and fiercely possessive.
“Hey, gorgeous.” I lean over to kiss her. “How ya feeling?”
Those big brown eyes turn up to look at me. She levels me with a smile. It’s the first one I’ve seen in a while. “It was a good day. Mostly.”
I sit down on the edge and run my hand over her stomach. “My boys treating their mama well, or do I need to ground them?”
The sound of her laughter makes my chest tight. “They’re kicking like crazy tonight.”
She takes my hand and places it where someone’s foot feels like it wants to burst out of her, Aliens-style. My eyes widen. “Fuck. That’s crazy, babe. Does it hurt?”
