Page 38 of Playing It Forward

I jump to my feet and rush toward the door. My cleats clomp against the concrete floor but I don’t care. Terri needs me. I’m not abandoning her. My phone buzzes in my hand.

Calm down. It was a hypothetical.

I screech to a halt. My heart thudding in my chest.

Don’t scare me like that again.

Sorry. And now I really do need to get back to work.

Have a good day. I’ll see you later.

I flop down on the bench and inhale deep breaths until my pulse returns to normal. Terri’s okay. The baby’s okay. There’s no need to stress.

But I hate not being in control. I hate not being near her. Not being able to see for myself that she’s okay. That she’s not lying about how she’s feeling.

Texting will have to do for now. I need to stay here. I finished my quarterback practice with Coach Wilson, but offensive line practice starts in thirty minutes.

I do the one thing I can to help. I open my reading app and start reading one of the books on pregnancy I downloaded. I want to be prepared to help Terri in any way I can.

“Whatcha reading?”

At Tanner’s question, I quickly shut the app.

“Nothing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Nothing? You were totally concentrated. You didn’t even notice us enter the locker room.” He motions to Gage, Brock, and Corbin, who are studying my face.

“It’s quarterback stuff,” I lie.

Corbin grunts.

“Whatever,” Brock grumbles. “You need to suit up. Practice starts in five minutes.”

“Yes, Mr. Grumpy! Right away, Mr. Grumpy!”

Corbin shoves Tanner away before Brock can attack him. Typical practice day.

Gage sits down next to me. “Everything okay?”

My eyes narrow on him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Knox benched you last training.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” I mutter.

He raises his palms in the air. “Just checking on you.”

“I’m fine.” Such a lie. Between my shoulder not healing as fast as it should and Terri being pregnant with my baby, I’m nowhere near fine. I shove those thoughts away. It’s time for football.

We jog onto the field beneath the blazing July sun. Sweat immediately gathers beneath my pads. Coach Knox barks out orders while the offense splits into position groups.

I force my focus onto football. Footwork. Timing. Reads. Repetition.

Not Terri. Not babies. Not poopy diapers. Definitely not tiny babies wearing miniature Steel City Seals onesies.

Hell. I’m already thinking about onesies.

“Allen!” Coach Wilson snaps. “Wake up.”