Page 37 of Playing It Forward

Nolan

I sit on the bench in the locker room and pull out my phone to message Terri.

How are you doing?

Apparently I’m in dire need of ginger ale and crackers.

Oops. I may have gone overboard. I had crates of ginger ale and boxes of crackers sent to her house and office.

I want to make sure you have what you need.

I’m fine.

I can practically hear her sigh through the phone. Terri’s determined to do this all on her own. She’s crazy if she thinks I won’t be part of the baby’s life. I refuse to be my dad. Ignoring his family for the glory of football.

But it’s going to take some convincing before Terri understands I’m staying.

I know you’re fine. I add a GIF of a fox wiggling his eyebrows.

Corny.

Seriously. How are you feeling?

I drum my fingers on my thigh as I wait for those three magical dots to appear to indicate she’s writing a reply. They don’t appear. Maybe I should call. I don’t want to pressure her, but I need to make sure she’s okay. That they’re okay.

I’m okay. A little nauseous but the crackers helped.

I grin.

And it kills you to admit I helped.

You don’t have to help. I can do this on my own. I don’t want to be an obligation.

I growl. When is she going to get it through her stubborn head? I’m not leaving her alone. I’m not abandoning her. This is my kid, too. I refuse to be my father.

You’re not an obligation.

When she doesn’t reply, I continue.

You’re carrying my baby. It’s my privilege to be a part of your life.

But what happens when the season begins? When you’re too busy with football for poopy diapers and late night feedings?

My stomach rolls. My dad was never there for poopy diapers or late night feedings. Ruth called me Dad before she realized I was her brother. I’m not going to be him.

We’ll figure it out.

You keep saying we’ll figure it out but where’s your plan?

I’m working on it.

I need to get back to work, and you should be training.

Have a good day, sweetheart. If you need anything, call me. If I’m not available, call Coach Knox.

I’m not calling your coach because I’m throwing up.

Shit. You’re throwing up. I’m on my way.