He cuts me off before I can say anything, his expression hard as stone. “This is the biggest game of the season so far. We’re only up by two points. What’s it going to be? Will you stay and play, or will you go?”
I don’t need to debate this. In my heart, I know the right answer. The only answer. “Sir, I need to go. I have to be there for my girl.”
If she’ll let me in the hospital room. I might need to beg after that argument we had.
Will my decision piss off Santos? Will this affect whether I’m drafted? Will this change how NFL coaches view my commitment?
At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. I only care about getting back to Maggie and being the support she needs. The support I promised to be.
He stares at me a long, uncomfortable moment before he cracks a smile. “Damn straight you do. Twins, right?” How does he know? “I’ve been waiting for you to fill me in.”
Jesus, I just cannot do anything right. “I’m sorry, sir. I should’ve—”
“Son, save your explanations. I have a team to coach without my top running back. Go take care of your family. I’ll see you back on campus next week.”
Speechless, I watch him disappear down the tunnel.
And then I sprint to the locker room.
I have a plane to catch.
69
MAGGIE
Panting, I brace myself for another contraction. I spot them on the monitor right before those bastards strike.
My mom wipes my forehead. “Hold my hand, mija.”
“No, I’ll hurt you.” When Sebastian was in here earlier, he complained I was going to break his fingers. He and Amelia ran for the waiting room as soon as my mom arrived.
“A mother is stronger than you think. You’ll learn this with your little ones.”
Reluctantly, I take her hand, crying out when the next contraction almost makes me pass out. Fire spreads through my vagina and guts, like I’m being ripped apart. Holy crap. Is every birth this bad? How have humans populated the Earth when you have to endure this kind of pain?
My hair is in a ratty bun, I’m sweating through my gown, and my feet are popped up on stirrups. If I had really thought about what this would be like, I would’ve found a way to shave my legs because I can’t stand staring at the forest sprouting there.
Dr. Zavala taps my knee to let me know he’s reaching into the hot zone. After a minute, he nods. “Getting close. Let’s get you some more ice chips and water. We’ll start pushing soon.”
I glance out the window. It’s starting to get dark, but Olly won’t be back for at least two or three more hours.
“Why didn’t I call him to let him know?” Fat tears stream down my face. “I was so upset with him and confused and hurt.”
Mom wipes my tears with a tissue. “Michael will be here. You’ll see. I’ve prayed about it.”
I wish I shared her confidence. “I’m doing everything wrong. I should’ve called him to let him know we were in the hospital. To tell him I’m sorry about our argument.” At this point, I don’t care who was responsible for what. I just want my best friend by my side. I’ll kick his ass later.
One of the machines beeps, and it reminds me so much of my dad dying, it takes my breath away. “Mom, if something bad happens to me, I need you to tell Olly something for me.”
“Te prometo, nada malo va a pasar,” she says fiercely, promising that nothing bad will happen. “You tell Michael whatever it is you have to say when he gets here.”
I don’t know if my mom is just really optimistic or delusional, but her absurd confidence is reassuring.
She makes a sign of the cross. “Que Dios te bendiga.” May God protect me.
I’m not too proud. I’ll gladly accept any spare blessings, since my uterus feels like it might explode. A little help from the Almighty is more than welcome.
A knock on the door distracts me from my pity party, and a familiar face pops in. “How’s my beautiful butterfly?”
