the Super Bowl is over. “Me, too. If you’ve got any last bit of all-star advice, I’m all ears.”
Chase cocks his head and lifts a shoulder. “You don’t need my advice. It’s your first time being a consistent starter, and you’ve already made it further than I did in the past four seasons.”
I draw back. “Well, yeah. But during those seasons, you didn’t have Smoke running shit on the D line. He doesn’t get enough credit. It’s easy to win if the other team can’t score.”
“You want advice, Junior?”
I narrow my eyes and nod slowly. “Uh, yeah, I do.”
“That’s the wrong fucking attitude,” Chase says as if it’s some sort of obvious fact. “You need to take your scrawny little ass out there believing that you are the best goddamn football player on that field. Smoke is an asset, yes. They all are. But you’re the greatest motherfucker to ever play the game.”
I laugh a little, shaking my head at Chase’s exaggerated arrogance. “But I’m not even close to the—”
He arches a brow and glares at me, stopping me midsentence. “Of course you’re not. Neither am I. But you’re about to go head-to-head with a guy who actually is arguably the greatest quarterback of all time. And you need to believe you’re every bit as good as he is. None of this underdog bullshit.”
I laugh, admittedly a little hyped up by Chase’s weird, empowering speech about being a cocky asshole.
“I did always want to be just like you,” I say.
“And now you can be even better.” He half smiles at me and pats my shoulder. “Until I heal up and your ass goes back to the bench.”
Before I have a chance to retort, my phone starts vibrating in my pocket with a call. I slip it out for a second and see the name on the screen.
It’s Ellie.
I glance around to see where Coach went. He’s in one of the offices, talking through something with some other staff.
I know I have to stay focused as hell and give football every single ounce of my energy and attention, but damn, it’s fucking hard to ignore her.
I have to, though. It can wait. It can all wait. Once we win the Super Bowl, I can focus on Ellie and the baby and figuring all of that out. But right now, I have to rewatch these films and analyze these play strategies, and then I have to get a workout in and—
It’s vibrating again. Shit.
Ellie wouldn’t call twice unless something is pretty urgent. Hell, she wouldn’t even call once when she knows I’m at practice.
Why couldn’t she just text me?
I take a deep breath and stare at the phone screen with her name on it for an extra second, then in a quick decision, I duck out of the training room into the hall and answer the phone.
“Hey, I’m slammed with practice stuff,” I say quickly, keeping my voice low. “Everything okay?”
“Matt…I…” Her voice sounds strained and shaky, like she’s crying or scared or hurting, or all three.
My throat tightens, and my heart flips at the sound of her distress.
Something is wrong.
Thoughts of the importance of football and no distractions go flying out the window in a quick second. “Ellie?” I repeat, staying as calm as I can. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Just these…really, really bad pains…” Her voice breaks, and it’s clear she’s struggling for control.
My chest is tight as adrenaline surges through my veins, waking up every neuron in my brain. “What do you mean ‘pains’? Where are you?” I keep my voice steady and stable.
I’m already heading toward the locker room to get my stuff and get to her.
“In my stomach,” she says quickly, clearly talking through gritted teeth. She takes shallow breaths and groans a little more. “I called Noah. He’s…taking me…ouch!” She gathers herself a little and exhales. “To the hospital.”
The hospital?
Nerves fray, and my palms start sweating as the whole world shifts around me.
“I’m coming,” I say, everything in my mind and body focusing instantly on Ellie and the baby and what could possibly be happening right now.
“No, Matt…it’s okay. You can’t leave. I just wanted you to know.” She sounds scared. And totally out of her mind for thinking I’m just gonna stay here and continue with practice while she’s at the hospital having serious pains a couple months into being pregnant.
“Don’t be insane. This is an emergency. I’m leaving.”
“Matt—”
I hang up the phone, racing back into the locker room and grabbing my duffel bag.