Page 48 of Playing It Forward

Her mouth drops open. “Nolan Allen is the father of your baby?”

“Would everyone stop gawking at Mr. Quarterback and help me?” I screech.

Dr. Allens clears her throat. “Of course.” She pats the bed. “Hop on up and I’ll have a look.”

I don’t get a chance to stand before Nolan is there, picking me up and carrying me to the bed.

“I thought we agreed I’m not an invalid,” I protest despite enjoying the way his arms feel around me.

He kisses my forehead. “And I explained I’m going to take care of you no matter how much you bitch.”

Dr. Allens sighs and I glare at her. She raises her palms in the air. “Sorry, but you have to admit the big strapping football player carrying you around is adorable.”

“I admit to nothing.”

Nolan chuckles. “My stubborn little sprite.”

“Ah, he calls you sprite. It’s adorable.”

I snarl at her. “I’m blaming you if the entire town is wagging their tongues about my pregnancy before sundown.”

She bristles. “I’m a professional.”

“Can you check her over?” Nolan asks.

“Most certainly.” She removes the napkin from my face. “The bleeding has stopped.” She examines the area. “Your nose doesn’t appear broken.”

“I’m not worried about my nose. I’m worried about…” I motion to my belly.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

“It’s my fault.” Nolan’s cheeks darken. “I was showing off and I overthrew the ball. Tanner couldn’t catch it in time. Instead, I hit Terri in the nose.”

“I’m going to check for signs of concussion.” She motions to Nolan, who’s now pacing the room, which is not big enough to pace. He walks two steps before he hits the wall and has to turn around. “Do you want him to stay?”

Nolan growls. “I’m not leaving.”

I could fight him but I want him here. Despite how his fear and worry are stealing the air from the room, his presence brings me comfort. Because he’s right. I’m always caring for everyone else. It’s nice to be the one cared for, for a change.

“It’s okay.”

The doctor shines a small light into my eyes. “Any dizziness?”

“Only from the quarterback hyperventilating in the corner.”

Nolan stops pacing long enough to glare at me. “This is no time to joke.”

Dr. Allens continues. “What day is today?”

“Saturday.”

“Good. Who hit you with the football?”

I point at Nolan. “The oversized quarterback.”

The doctor chuckles. “You don’t appear concussed. I don’t think imaging is necessary. But just in case, you should rest, avoid alcohol, and have someone stay with you for the next few hours.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Nolan says.