Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,70

in knots. It wasn’t the first time I feared for a player’s health…but it was the first time I’d ever met a coach who didn’t.

I didn’t have a choice.

I nodded, and Isaac hustled to the field.

This was bad.

Jack spent the injury time-out on the sidelines, sharing a print-out of the previous play with Jude. I didn’t belong so close to the players, but the team made way for me.

I kept my voice low.

“Isaac has a concussion.” My warning was clear. “Don’t expect him to be one hundred percent.”

Jude tugged his helmet back on. “And you’re letting him play?”

“I didn’t have a choice. Be careful out there.”

I worried enough about Jude on the field. Now I had another reason to fear an injury.

If Coach Thompson was willing to risk his receiver for a simple regular season game, what would he sacrifice when the team crept closer to the playoffs?

How many lives would he endanger to win a game?

And what would happen if it was Jude’s health at risk?

15

Jude

It didn’t worry me that I forgot why I came to the store.

It terrified me because I forgot driving there.

The fog was bad today, precipitated by a headache that only cleared when I reached the cereal aisle. It wasn’t a total blackout, but it wasn’t good.

What a pain in the ass.

At least I wore matching shoes this time. The last time I had a bad episode, I’d left the house with one black and one brown shoe. As a result, I threw out all but my black dress shoes, black loafers, and my tennis shoes. That made my wardrobe easier. Less of a chance to mess things up.

Less of a chance for anyone to notice.

I could handle it. Hell, I was feeling better than Rory. She was twenty-seven weeks of discomfort—cranky, hot, and hungry.

Still beautiful though. Just…less patient.

Why the hell didn’t I write down what she wanted before I headed to the store?

I set the empty basket on the floor and pulled out my phone. Nothing on the grocery list, only my usual reminders to pick up the mail, load the dishwasher, and go to bed at nine since practice was kicking my ass.

I turned the aisle. The store was so damn yellow. My vision haloed enough without spreading golden blotches everywhere. I stared at the food and tried to remember.

She had been hungry.

I volunteered to go out.

Of course, I used it as an opportunity to hide the headache from her. Reap what I sowed, though my ass was grass if I returned without the food she craved.

I looked around. This was the wrong aisle too.

For now.

Baby stuff filled the wall, and an exhausted man stared at the blue and pink packages. He rubbed his neck, cracked his back, and reached for the newborn diapers. He nodded at me, eyes dark with the smudge of sleepless circles.

“You too, buddy?” he asked.

Buddy? I almost laughed. He was wearing my jersey and a Rivets’ hat. Was he too exhausted to recognize me?

“Word of advice,” he said. “If you make one diaper run, you’ll be making another the next day. Buy double what you need.”

Good advice I’d probably never remember.

Good advice I wouldn’t need to remember. Rory and I still hadn’t discussed what would happen once the baby came. Or how she’d handle it. Where she’d go.

The original plan was to break it off after Genie was born. But that meant Rory would be making these diaper trips herself. Raising the newborn, herself. Handling all the stress…herself.

The thought destroyed me.

I shrugged at the man. “Oh, I’m not going to be…”

A father? Having a baby?

Torturing myself in the diaper aisle late at night to help a family I didn’t have?

I sighed. “We’re not here just yet.”

“Oh. Savor this time. Get some sleep for me.”

He grabbed two packages of diapers and cast them on a frozen pizza in his cart. He continued on through the store, battle-worn and exhausted.

That was it.

There was no way in hell Rory was doing this on her own.

But how could I help her if I didn’t even know what snack she had wanted for tonight?

I patted my jeans. An envelope stuffed in the back pocket. I didn’t recognize the paper, but maybe I had scribbled something on the way out the door. I opened it.

GIRL

“What the hell…”

The paper crinkled in my hand. My panic echoed over the aisles.

“Fuck!”

Oh, no, no, no. This was either the world’s most perverted shopping list or the note the OBGYN wrote that revealed the baby’s gender.

It was like a