by B. B. Hamel
Because I loved her, and she loved me. We were officially together, though neither of us needed to say that out loud.
We both knew what this meant.
Avery was the mother of my child, the love of my life. I cocked my arm back and threw a bomb deep, dropping it right into the receiver’s hands.
I felt good, better than I had in a long, long time. Nothing was in the way of Avery and me anymore. All I needed to do was kick ass and win games, which was something I happened to be very good at anyway.
For some reason, the idea of having a kid didn’t scare me as much as it had at first. Maybe because I knew that raising a child with Avery wasn’t going to be that difficult. I knew she’d be a great mother, and I was going to do my best to be a better father than I had growing up.
I was determined to do things right. We were not doomed to repeat the mistakes of our past if we could just grow up and move on. Maybe I had a lot of growing to do still, but I was looking forward to doing it with Avery.
Practice slowly wound down, and I headed into the locker room with the other guys, laughing and joking. I was lucky to be a part of a team as great as Mater Dei, and lucky that my teammates were good guys.
But I still had one more thing to do, one more problem to solve. As soon as I finished showering off, I felt the fear grow steadily in my gut.
“You coming?” Hynes asked me as the guys headed out.
“Nah. I’ll catch up later.”
“Your call, man. See you.” They waved and went out the back door.
I glanced back at Coach’s office door and took a deep breath. I wasn’t ready for this, but I didn’t think I ever would be.
I got up and walked over to Coach Taylor’s door. I knocked and waited a second before he called me in.
“Hey, Coach,” I said. “Got a second?”
“Sure, Gibson. Take a seat.”
Coach Taylor was in his early fifties, and he was known to be one of the best college football coaches around. I spent a lot of time with him because he grew up coaching quarterbacks, and I could tell he had big hopes for me. I hated the idea of disappointing him, since he was the one who brought me onto the team in the first place and gave me my shot, but I was out of options, and I knew I needed help.
I sat down across from him.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Coach, I have something really, I don’t know, awkward to talk about.”
He leaned back in his chair, his sharp, dark eyes taking me in. He took off his hat and ran his hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Spit it out then. Better that way.”
“I got a girl pregnant. Now I need to make some money if I’m going to help her.”
He stared at me for a second. “This the girl I’ve heard about? Avery?”
“How’d you know that?”
“I hear things, Gibson. Guys talk and all that. You’ve been seeing a lot of her.”
“Yeah, I have. I mean, she’s pregnant with my kid.”
“How are things with her?”
“Good, actually. We really like each other.”
“Good,” he said. “That’s important. What about her family?”
“They aren’t on good terms.”
“That’s a shame.” He crossed his arms, frowning. “Raising a kid is really going to make your football career difficult.”
“I know that.”
“But it’s possible,” he said. “Believe it or not, you wouldn’t be the first guy to get drafted with a young kid.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “Of course not. Shit, son, football attracts a certain kind of man, and that kind of man tends to get girls pregnant, if you understand me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not angry?”
“I’m not happy, but no, I’m not angry. This isn’t the end for you.”
“So what do I do?”
“You’re going to need to work harder,” he said. “But I have to admit, you coming to me like this and asking for help is a pretty huge step.”
“How?” I couldn’t believe he wasn’t yelling at me or tearing me down. Frankly, I had expected a pretty awful conversation. Instead, he was taking it really well.
“Listen to me, Gibson. I know you haven’t had very many good role models in your life, so I hope you’ll take what I have to say to heart.” He crossed his arms and took a deep breath. “Being a man isn’t just about winning games and being the best. There are plenty of men who aren’t the best at what they do.
“Being a man is about taking responsibility and working hard, no matter what. There are a lot of people out there who don’t take responsibility for their own lives and their own mistakes, and they don’t work hard. Those aren’t real men, Gibson.
“A man doesn’t run away. A man doesn’t turn his back. He does what needs to be done, regardless of how difficult it might be. Are you prepared to do that?”
“I am,” I said, nodding.
“Good. You can be a real man, Gibson, or you can be something else. You can step up and try to make this work, or you can give up and roll over. I don’t think you’re the giving up type, though.”
“No, sir, I’m not.”
“Good.” He smiled at me. “Well then, how about we start by getting you a job?”
I laughed. “Seriously?”
“Sure. It’ll be part time, something around here that we can keep quiet. We’ll also want to keep this baby away from the media for as long as possible, of course, but that won’t be forever. I’ll help you however I can, Gibson. You have my promise.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
I finally felt right.
“All right, get going. I have work to do. We’ll talk more about it later.”
“Thank you again.” I stood up. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.”
I turned and left his office, floating on air.
All I wanted to do was see Avery. I wanted to tell her what had just happened. We were going to be okay. I was going to work as much as I could, and I was going to make some money. We’d have help. We wouldn’t have to do this alone.
And I wasn’t backing down. I wasn’t going to fail.
I was a real man. I took responsibility for my mistakes and I fixed them. My mom especially was a great example of how shitty a person could be, and I was determined not to fall into that same trap.
In the end, I was going to be better. I was going to be better than they were, better than they thought I could be. I was going to be better than anyone could possibly guess.
Because I was Gibson Evans, and I was a real fucking man.
I grinned to myself as I left the practice facility, heading toward Avery. I grinned to myself, thinking about her the whole time.
32
Avery
Months Later
I felt so damn nervous, I thought I might puke.
I glanced at Gibson sitting next to me, and he just smiled, calm as anything. I couldn’t imagine how he could be so calm when his whole future was on the line, but he took my hand and he squeezed it.
That helped. Gibson always managed to calm me down, make me feel better. Even when things with little Jax seemed too overwhelming, Gibson always took the weight away.
I never understood what it meant to be a mother until I saw Jax for the first time. He was beautiful and tiny and strange, and I loved him so much that my whole damn body wanted to break. I couldn’t believe it when they let me bring him home with me a few days later, and every day was a mystery and a surprise as he slowly grew.
Gibson was there to help, at least. Gibson Evans, my champion quarterback, one of the top prospects for the NFL draft.
I glanced back over my shoulder and saw the few reporters Coach Taylor had let into Gibson’s apartment. They were sitting around and looking bored, waiting for Gibson’s turn in the draft. We had a pretty good idea when he was going to get picked, but we weren’t positive. Nothing was cert
ain in the draft, and that terrified me.
“Relax,” he said to me. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Why?”
“You’re always calm.” I rocked Jax in my arms.
“Here. Give him to me.”
“No. It’s okay. You should be ready. It’s starting soon.”
He laughed. “Fuck the draft. Give me my son.”
I smiled and handed Jax over. Gibson rocked him and made faces.
Gibson was a better father than I could have ever imagined. He was attentive and he was patient and he was caring.
And best of all, he still loved me. He still undressed me slowly and licked every inch of my body, his tongue on my clit, his cock between my legs. Gibson still made me feel incredible, as amazing as the very first time.
The man was insatiable, which was good, since I couldn’t get enough of him.
We had moved in together about halfway through my pregnancy. Coach Taylor found us a little apartment in a new building just off campus, not far from my old place. Harper visited practically every day, especially after I had Jax.
While Gibson was in season, he worked part time cleaning the locker room. Nobody knew he did it at the time, but the money he brought home was a huge help. And after he won the national championship at the head of Mater Dei, journalists went crazy about the quarterback janitor. His name was all over the world, and he went on a crazy tour of talk shows and interviews.
It also helped his brand when I published my paper on him. “Long-Term Effects of Diet and Exercise on Top Athletes: A Study by Avery Carpenter” was published in Science magazine to universal acclaim. Of course, I couldn’t have done it without my biology professor, who immediately recognized how important and serious my study with Gibson was. That study only made Gibson that much more serious and wanted.
But he always had time for me. Whenever I needed him, he found me. Whenever I wanted him, he came to me. Gibson always put me and Jax first, no matter what.
Today was no exception. He could have gone down to the actual draft and sat in that beautiful room, but he insisted on staying at home for the draft with me and Jax. That was all he wanted. Coach Taylor made sure that happened.
“What do you think?” Gibson asked me. “Am I going to be a pro football player soon?”
I laughed. “I sure hope so.”
“Same, but I guess it’s no big deal if I’m not.” He bounced Jax. “I could always go back to cleaning the locker room.”
“The media would love that.”
“They sure would.”
The draft got started. In the first round, some linebacker from Michigan got picked by the Cleveland Browns.
My stomach was a knot of anxiety and worry. Coach Taylor came over and sat down in the chair next to us.
“Ready, Gibson?” he asked.
“I’m ready, Coach.”
“It’s going to happen soon. I feel it.”
“Well, I hope so. According to what I’ve heard it is, at least.”
“You’ve done well, son,” he said. “Real well. I’m proud of you no matter what.”
“Thanks, Coach.” Gibson grinned. I reached over and took Jax back from him.
The reporters all flocked back over. Cameras and lights booted up, pointing at Gibson, Jax, and me.
It felt weird to be on live TV, but I did my best to pretend like we weren’t being watched.
A man walked up to the podium. He opened up a card.
“And the Philadelphia Eagles, with the second pick in the draft, choose Gibson Evans, quarterback.”
The room erupted in cheers. Someone shoved an Eagles hat on Gibson. He hugged me, kissed Jax, and then hugged Coach Taylor.
I felt like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. We had known it was probably going to happen, but there were never any guarantees with this sort of thing.
I felt so light and happy. Gibson had made it. This was his chance to play at the highest level, to make his dream come true. He was finally going to do what he’d always wanted to do, and all the while he’d take care of me and Jax.
Because he could. Gibson was a man, stronger than other men, better. He made me feel right whenever he was around.
The reporters swarmed for the next half hour. Gibson answered questions, smiled for pictures, and did the whole media thing. Coach Taylor stayed by his side, and I took care of Jax, watching and feeling so incredibly proud.
Eventually, though, the frenzy died down. The reporters began to pack up, getting ready to leave. It was official, and the story was over.
Though not quite.
I was standing in the kitchen, rocking Jax, when Gibson came up behind me.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself, big football player.”
He grinned at me. “You’re good with Philadelphia, right?”
“I’m good with anywhere, so long as it’s with you.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He kissed my lips softly. I felt a thrill run through me.
“Today was a good day,” I said.
“I want to make it better.”
“How could you possibly do that?”
He dropped down to one knee. The room was suddenly very, very still.
“Avery Carpenter, love of my damn life, I want you to marry me.” He opened a small black box and showed me the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen in my life.
I took a step back. Jax giggled in my arms.
“Is this real?” I asked him.
Everyone in the room laughed, including Gibson. “It’s real. Be my wife.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Okay, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” He slipped the ring on my finger and then stood. We kissed for a long time as the room clapped and cheered.
Once the kiss was over, he kissed little Jax and then shook hands with everyone.
I stared down at my finger. The ring was enormous and beautiful. I had no clue where it had come from or how he had afforded it, but it was perfect.
That was the right word for this moment: perfect. I was going to be Gibson’s wife, and he was going to be a professional football player. Our son was handsome and healthy and things were right.
We were moving forward. There was nowhere else to go but forward, and that didn’t seem so scary with Gibson by my side.
I was right and I was good, and I had Gibson to keep making me feel perfect.
I couldn’t want anything else. I had my man and my baby.
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