Halo Violation: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 13

  After exchanging nods, smiles and words of greeting with the other guys, I head straight over to my locker and pick up the game day program.

  Despite my anxiety, the mood in the locker room is totally chill. Joe McAllister is lying flat on his back on one of the benches with a cloth covering his eyes. Rodney Richards is sitting in a chair with his eyes closed and his noise-canceling headphones on. He likes to listen to guided meditations before going out on the field. Tony Ricci is standing in front of his locker, doing a few gentle arm stretches. As always, Ryan Blake’s iPod is hooked up to the overhead sound system, blasting classic American rock from the 80s—the kind of music that makes you feel like cracking open an ice cold Bud.

  I bob my head along with “Livin’ on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi as I go over the game day program.

  “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

  I turn to find Alex Harmon standing there in his white terry cloth robe with a tentative smile on his face. He reeks of eucalyptus oil, which could only mean he came from a massage. One of the staff masseuses, Tina, loves to cover us in that shit when she rubs us down.

  “I’m good. How are you?”

  He doesn’t bother to answer. Instead he looks me square in the eye and says, “You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

  “Fuck you, Harmon,” I say with a laugh.

  He ignores the jab and says, “You seen Coach yet?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “Yeah, I just saw him in the training room talking to Derek about making the rest of the d-line’s job easier.”

  I nod. I don’t know how to respond. I’m nervous as all fuck about the thought of facing Coach again. I take a deep breath and get a lungful of that eucalyptus scent. And it gives me an idea. Maybe a nice, relaxing massage is exactly what I need right now to help steady my nerves.

  “Hey, do you know if Tina’s free?” I ask Alex.

  “Should be. She didn’t have anyone waiting after she got done with me.”

  Cool.

  I make my way through the locker room and down the hall to the treatment wing, where I’m relieved to find Tina hasn’t started working on one of the other guys. I ask her if she’ll take me and she readily agrees. I spend the next twenty minutes or so with my eyes closed, aware of the tension leaving my body.

  After the massage, I’m pumped up, cooled down and ready to face Coach, no matter how he reacts to me. I head back to the locker room to get into my uniform, chatting with the other guys like today is any other day. Later, I’m in the treatment room, sitting on one of the benches getting my ankles taped up by the assistant athletic trainer, when Coach walks in.

  We exchange a brief glance and it’s almost like someone sucked all the oxygen out of the room. His face is stony, expressionless and cold when he looks at me. Our gazes lock for no more than a second or two, probably, but that moment seems to drag on forever. Coach then turns away and heads over to join Cody and Steve, who are going over the finer points of the game day program, and I can breathe again.

  Fuck, man.

  I know I should be relieved. It could have been a whole lot worse. I hadn’t ruled out the possibility that he’d go postal on me again. So I should be grateful that we’re going to keep things civilized.

  And I do feel grateful for that—don’t get me wrong—but my tension is back with a vengeance. Here’s hoping I’ll be able to channel this insane energy into a kickass performance on the field. I am determined to tear shit up today, to play better than I ever have played before. If I can manage that, who knows? Maybe that could be the first step back into Coach’s good graces.

  Fucking hell.

  The stakes are higher than they’ve ever been.

  “Nervous, Wenzel?” Ryan asks as he plops down on the bench next to me.

  I answer him with a look.

  He chuckles under his breath and says. “Look on the bright side. Coach hasn’t gone near you. Even if he throws you the stink eye all night, that’s progress, right?”

  I guess.

  Coach looks up from the game day program, and I quickly avert my eyes.

  “Richards!” he bellows. “I want to see some hustle out there today. Stop gawking at the cheerleaders. They have a job to do, just like you do. Act like you’re the best fucking offensive lineman on the field.”

  Once the trainer finishes taping up my ankles, I pull on my socks, my cleats and start lacing them up. Fucking hell. My nerves are shredded. Coach’s presence in the locker room makes the atmosphere freakishly thick with tension. I know it’s only a few minutes to kickoff, but the wait is driving me crazy. I’ve already done my stretches, but because I can’t stand sitting here doing nothing, I get up and do a few more gentle ones.

  And then, finally, the wait is over.

  “Anderson!” Coach roars. “Five minutes to kickoff. Go find Rogers, Adams and LaRouche and send them in.”

  By the time the three guys have appeared, I’m making my way across the room to gather around Coach along with the rest of my teammates. We all join hands and bow our heads.

  Coach clears his throat and says, “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name...”

  The game’s a nail biter. For real. In the beginning there’s a lot of back and forth with the scoring, but after halftime, things really kick up into high gear. It’s all tied up and we have the opening possession at the start of the overtime period. And then I pull off a touchdown. And just like that, we win the game!

  After the game, when everyone is hugging and high-fiving me and telling me how awesome I am, I search the crowd surrounding me for Coach’s face. The moment I catch sight of him, with his eyes narrowed and his lips twisted in disgust, my spirits swiftly plummet.

  And with that, the rush of victory is gone.

  The man fucking hates me, and that’s all there is to it. I don’t even know what I’d been expecting to see, anyway, when I sought him out in the crowd. Did I really hope to find him full of smiles and good cheer, ready to accept me as the father of his future grandchild?

  Talk about deluded.

  God, I’m a pathetic little pansy ass bitch. It’s like I’m ten years old again, forever seeking my dad’s love and attention, and always ending up disappointed.

  I resolve to stop seeking out approval, not only from my own dad, but also from every other older man/father figure in my life. It’s time to grow the fuck up. I’m going to be a dad myself in a few short months. And I’ll tell you one thing: my kid is never, ever going to feel a lack of love and attention. Never. That’s a promise.

  19. MOLLY

  Looks like I need to do some shopping.

  I’ve been showing for about a month now. That’s around the time that I stopped wearing anything apart from loose tops, yoga pants, leggings and knit skirts with elastic bands around the waist. But now even those are getting a little snug.

  Even so, I’m pretty sure nobody suspects that I’m growing a baby in here. If anything, they might think I’ve put on a few pounds, but I think it’s probably more likely that nobody suspects a thing. Baggy clothes can camouflage a lot, and people are generally too preoccupied with themselves to notice slight changes in others.

  I’ve shared the news with a handful of friends up here in Bronxville, but I’m mostly keeping it under wraps. None of my professors know, not even Shirley, my academic advisor. With only six weeks to go before graduation, I really don’t see the point in telling them.

  After pulling on a big, chunky, cable knit sweater to go with my roomiest yoga pants, I head into the kitchen to fix myself a cup of tea.

  Things are going pretty well...or they’re going as well as can be expected. Dad is finally starting to come around. I went home to Brooklyn for spring break last month. Things were a little awkward at first, but they soon faded into a more comfortable state. I was exhausted following the first half of the semester, and I did a lot of sleeping—when Mom and my sisters weren’t dragging me all over Manhattan to get every single spa treatment develo
ped with pregnant women in mind, that is.

  Over the week, Dad started to warm to me. Not that things went back to the cool, uncomplicated way they were before I dropped the baby bomb on him, but there were several times that I saw a glimpse of my doting dad under that gruff exterior.

  According to Eric, Dad is acting cold but civil towards him, which is all we can really hope for at this point. I am tremendously and eternally thankful for the miraculous touchdown Eric made in overtime on New Year’s Day. I don’t know if he’d been fretting about the possibility of being traded to another team or if the fear of being traded is what pushed him to do so well, but his performance that day pretty much guaranteed his position on the team.

  Thank heavens.

  I don’t think I could handle the guilt of inadvertently destroying Eric’s career on top of everything else I’m dealing with right now. But luckily, that was one crisis averted.

  My father is no fool, and neither is Bruce Maddox. If they’d announced they were trading Eric after that amazing performance, people would talk. They would speculate. The last thing we need is the press nosing their way around Eric’s life, especially since he’s been coming up to visit me pretty regularly.

  Yeah, he’s been up a few times. Football season is over, and he claims to be bored, but it seems like he’s looking for any excuse to come up for a visit. Then again, it’s not as if he’s lacking as far as excuses go. His mom keeps inundating me with stuff!

  First she sent a foot spa and this complicated body pillow for pregnant women they sell at the store where she works. Then she sent a bunch of Eric’s old baby stuff—a cute little romper, a patchwork quilt made by his grandmother and a threadbare stuffed rabbit known as Jumpy. After that, she sent a really pretty silk-covered scrapbook with empty pages to fill as well as the cutest framed picture of a barnyard scene painted by one of her co-workers. I don’t know why she doesn’t just send the stuff to my apartment. She sends it to Eric’s, and he then brings it over.

  Needless to say, she’s super stoked to be a grandmother. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times when I’ve called to thank her for the stuff. She’s planning a trip up to visit soon, and I’m looking forward to meeting her.

  After discarding my teabag in the trash under the kitchen sink, I lift the cup to my lips and take a sip. I’ve been drinking gallons of this stuff. Peppermint tea. No other flavor will do.

  Last time he was up here, I jokingly suggested to Eric that we should name the baby Peppermint. I said we could call her Minty for short.

  He was not amused.

  Smiling to myself, I take my tea into the living room and have a seat on the sofa. He should be here soon. Today is the day of the ultrasound, and I have to say I’m excited. I can’t wait to hear the baby’s heartbeat. I take a sip and lean back into the cushion, stoked about seeing Eric again.

  Only a couple of minutes go by before I get a text from him:

  Am here. In front of your building.

  That’s a little odd. Usually he rings the buzzer. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I toss my phone into my handbag and grab my keys. After locking the place up, I go downstairs and out the door to the street where I see Eric waving at me from behind the wheel of a shiny blue Lincoln Navigator.

  “What’s up with the wheels?” I ask him as I climb inside and strap myself in. “Is it a rental?”

  “Hell, no. I bought it over the weekend. With you living up here and me living down in Manhattan, it just made good sense.” He grins as he pulls onto the street.

  “What?” I laugh. “That seems a bit excessive, don’t you think? I’m only going to be here for another month and a half at the most.”

  “Yeah, but I have a feeling the wheels will come in handy once the baby is born. Who knows when we’ll have to run out to IKEA to pick up a piece of furniture we didn’t know we’d need? And when he gets a little older, I can take the baby down to Coney Island or up to Vermont to go apple picking or whatever. I just figured it’d be easier to buy a car instead of scheduling endless Lyft rides or rentals or whatever.”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

  And it’s really no concern of mine, anyway. Eric can do whatever he wants with his own money. Although I must say it’s pretty cute that he’s thinking about things like taking the baby apple picking in Vermont.

  Funny how he refers to the baby as boy, though. He always does. He says he’s 100% positive that it’ll be a boy—just as positive as I am that it’ll be a girl. Since she’s living inside of me, I figure I have the edge here. The home team advantage, if you will.

  But we’ll find out soon enough. In fact, the matter will be settled in a matter of minutes. I am so excited to get the ultrasound!

  “And I think it’s a better choice in terms of safety,” Eric says, reeling my mind back to the conversation on the table. “Who knows what kind of ratings all the different Lyft cars have, but this particular model scored really high on the Kelley Blue Book list of best safety rated luxury vehicles. It’s why I bought it.”

  “That’s actually a really good point.”

  One thing’s for sure. Eric is going to be a great dad. I can’t believe how he’s stepped up and embraced his new role as father to be. A part of me is consumed with guilt for trying to keep the baby’s existence a secret from him. But then again, I was only trying to do what I thought was best for the baby. And the sad fact is I’m still not completely convinced that he’ll be around for the long haul. I hope he will. I know he intends to, but people can change. And that scares the crap out of me. Am I making the right decision here by involving him so much?

  I have to say the worst thing about impending motherhood is second-guessing myself at every turn.

  “How’s school?” he asks.

  “Good. We had the most fascinating discussion in class today about the role of the occult in the Old Testament.”

  “No way. I didn’t know there was any mention of the occult in the Bible.”

  “Are you kidding?” I give him a playful slap on the arm. “It’s mentioned countless times. In Jeremiah, for example, and Isaiah, not to mention Exodus, Leviticus and Deuteronomy.”

  “Okay,” he says with a laugh. “I get it.”

  “I guess you didn’t pay much attention in church when you were a kid.”

  “I guess not.”

  We exchange a grin, and I’m overcome with the urge to unbuckle my seatbelt, to slide over and snuggle up next to him. Not that I ever would actually do that. Aside from the fact that there’s no way I’m going to jeopardize the baby’s safety by riding around without being strapped in, it’d be a mistake to cross that line. We both feel strongly that we shouldn’t complicate matters by getting involved.

  I can’t speak for him, of course, but as we continue to spend time together, I feel my attraction to him growing even greater. He’s just so handsome, so sexy, and now it turns out he’s also a stand-up kind of guy, not to mention sweet and thoughtful. And smart. And witty...

  Yeah, it’s a challenge to fight the urge to jump his bones, but so far I’ve been able to keep my desire restrained.

  Barely.

  Turning to face the window, I watch as we head north to Scarsdale, passing car dealerships and fast food restaurants—suburban sprawl at its finest.

  It isn’t long before Eric pulls into the parking lot of the medical imaging facility. We get out of the car and head towards the building. When we reach the door, he pulls it open and places the palm of his hand on my lower back to guide me through the door ahead of him. My skin tingles at his touch, and just like that, I’m frazzled.

  I am such a mess. He obviously didn’t mean anything by it, but that totally casual gesture has me all hot and bothered. Oh my god. I am the biggest idiot, ever.

  But the good thing is I’m able to pull myself together quickly and appear unaffected—or so I hope.

  I straighten my shoulders and make a beeline for the receptionist.

  “Hi. My name is Molly O’Neil.
I have an appointment for an ultrasound at three o’clock.”

  “Welcome, Ms. O’Neil,” she says with a smile as she pulls a form out of a drawer and grabs a clipboard. “Please fill this out and give it back to me when you’re done.”

  In no time at all, the paperwork is in and we’re being lead to an examination room of sorts. The receptionist hands me a flimsy hospital gown and instructs me to take my sweater off and to put this on. She tells me the ultrasound technician will be with us shortly before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

  Clutching the hospital gown to my chest, I turn to Eric.

  “I’ll uh...I’ll just step out into the hall for a couple of minutes to let you get changed,” he says.

  Oh, good. I was hoping he’d say something like that! I have no idea what brought on the sudden bout of bashfulness. For one thing, it’s not like Eric hasn’t seen me naked before, and for another thing, my intimate bits will soon be on display for a whole team of medical personnel in the upcoming months.

  Ugh. Best not to think about that right now.

  I flash him a grateful smile and he turns to go, but before he reaches the door, he stops and turns back around.

  “Almost forgot. I have a package for you from my mom,” he says.

  “Another one? Is she ever going to stop?”

  “I doubt it,” he says with a smile.

  Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out a small padded envelope and hands it over. I’m intrigued. I tear into it right away and pull out a chunky necklace with two different kinds of stones—one a mottled green with splotches of orange and pink, the other a swirly cyan so vivid that it almost looks radioactive.

  Eric laughs. “The pregnancy necklace. I haven’t seen that thing in years. Can’t believe she’s hung onto it for all this time.”

  “The pregnancy necklace?”

  I take a closer look at the stones. They really are stunning. They’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

  “Yeah, my aunt was living in Sedona, Arizona when my mom got pregnant with me, and she was into all that New Age stuff. The stones in this necklace are supposed to help with pregnancy. Anyway, that’s what my aunt claims. And I think my mom believes it, too.”