by Autumn Avery
“Emmy,” I say lovingly. “I don’t want you to ever leave me.”
11
Walker
Four months later…
I bite down on my mouth guard as I make my way out of the locker room with the rest of the team. My heart’s racing, and it should be.
Today is my big day – my first official day in the big leagues. No more college ball for me. We’re playing New York and it’s going to be a close one. They’re strong this year and have a bit of a rivalry against us for knocking them out of the playoffs last year.
It’s a home game today, and I’ve been practicing on this field for weeks, but this is different. As I make my way out to the field, I have a thousand thoughts racing through my mind.
Seattle had been generous. They wanted me right out of the gate and made me a great offer. My contract made me a multi-millionaire. Sometimes I still have a hard time getting my head around it. It’s a weird thing to say: I am a millionaire.
To be honest, the money doesn’t mean that much to me. I’m not an extravagant guy. Sure I got a nice house and a new car, but what means the most to me about this deal, is the fact that I’ve been able to get my mom the best care in the country. Between my paycheck and the benefits the league provided, my mom is getting top treatment and doing much better.
Her cancer has gone into remission, and the doctors say things are looking good. All my hard work is paying off. This is what drove me on the field doing sprints in hundred-degree Texas heat.
That’s what separates me from the rest of the guys: I have something to play for. My mother. Emmy. My unborn son. It’s what drives me. The desire for fame and glory will only get you so far. You have to have something else – heart.
As I step out of the locker room and onto the field for my first game, and hear the roar of the crowd for the first time on our home field, I start to worry. I’ve been in front of crowds before, but this is the big leagues and I’m the new guy. I don’t even know if coach will play me today. I’m the new kid on the block, and everyone has to pay their dues. I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t see a minute of field time.
Still, I feel like every eye is on me, analyzing my every move. A game like this has national TV coverage, and the announcers will no doubt be speculating on me and whether Seattle made the right choice, how I’m going to do, and all that shit.
After my college performance there will be high expectations on me, but that’s fine. I thrive under pressure, and as I gaze out across the packed stadium, I feel my adrenaline surge and my determination rise within me.
I’m ready to rock.
We gather up at the bench and I gaze across the huddle of my new teammates. Everyone is ready to go. There’s nothing left to do but to do it.
“Smith!” I hear Coach shout to the other wide receiver on the team. “Get your ass in there.”
My heart sinks. I’m not starting.
It’s not like this is unexpected. Even if I was twice the man that Smith is, Coach still has to put me through the paces. I’m the new guy. I can’t just come in and be the star on the first play of the first game of the season. At least that’s what I tell myself as I take a seat on the bench.
I know Emmy’s out there in the stands somewhere watching. She came to see me play and now she’s watching me do nothing. And mom’s watching from the house. Am I letting them down?
This isn’t like me. Doubt is not a trait of Walker Johnson!
But I’m not the Stallion anymore. Not yet at least. I have to prove myself, and for right now I just have to sit down, shut up, warm the bench and wait my turn.
The whistle blows for the kickoff and the game begins. There’s nothing to do but watch and cheer as my team goes to work. I can’t stop tapping my leg. I want to be out there! I’m sure we can handle these guys, though. No need to be nervous.
But an hour and a half later, we’re behind. Smith caught a nice twenty-yard pass, but fumbled it when he saw Mason, a six foot six bruiser from New York, coming straight at him. That fumble led to a forty yard run into our end zone, an extra point kick and put us behind by one.
A lot of guys have some superstitions, and one of those is that the first game of the year sets the tone for the entire season, so we’re really all praying for a win today. I’m completely on edge, living each play vicariously through the team.
If only I could get out there! I think. I know I could bring this back!
Why hasn’t he put me in? Smith is obviously off his game today. If I were coach I’d want to try some new blood, switch things up a little. They drafted me for a reason, and they’re paying me big bucks – big bucks that are just going to waste with my ass firmly planted on the bench. I’m starting to feel like a sucker.
I want game time, not money!
I’m about to do something stupid. I’m about to get up and tell Coach to put me in. That’s just something you don’t do. You sit down and shut up and wait your turn, but I’m getting pissed here. We’re not going to lose the first game of the season to fucking New York, because Coach is too precious with his wide receiver.
I clench my fists at my sides and chew my mouth guard. But just as I’m about to get up, I hear something that stops me.
“Johnson!” Coach shouts over the pregame roar. “Let’s go. You’re in!”
“Yessir!” I shout back, feeling a surge of energy rip through me.
Fuck yes, I think, slamming my mouth guard in and leaping to my feet. Feeling like a fire’s been lit under my ass, I race onto the field and join the rest of the boys on the line. I’m gonna kick ass.
If every eye in the place wasn’t on me earlier, they’re on me now. I can just hear the commentators speculating on how I’m going to perform, asking each other if I’m going to live up to the hype – to my paycheck.
“Seattle shelled out a lot for Walker Johnson,” I can just hear them say. “You think he’s going to be worth it?”
“Well, Chad, we’re just going to have to see, aren’t we? A lot of guys are big stars in college but can’t seem to perform when they’re called up to the big leagues.”
I shake the thought from my head. It’s time to focus. I breathe deeply, inhaling the smells around me. The turf, the stink of sweaty linebackers, chalk and tape.
My eyes drift over the crowd, desperately searching for Emmy. Instead, all I see are crazed fans shouting and waving, taking pictures with their phones. I think back to Houston, that time she sat in the stands and I dreaded catching her eye. But now she’s become my rock.
Finally, I see her.
Sitting in our section, next to her friend Abbey from school, between two guys that look like they just won a hot dog eating competition, is my pregnant fiancé, waving enthusiastically. She’s carrying my son, I think. I never knew a family could be such an inspiration until she told me the news. But now I feel like every yard I run is for them. Every time I hit the field, it’s for Emmy and my unborn son. Nothing in the world will stop me from taking care of them, especially not some half-assed defenseman from New York that thinks he’s going to stop me from getting a down!
I wave to Emmy and mouth, “I love you.”
She mouths it back and blows me a kiss. I’m ready to take on the world. I turn and look at the New York player in front of me that thinks he has a chance of stopping me.
“See my back, pal? Get used to looking at it,” I tell him. “Cause that’s all you’re gonna see of me.”
“Fat chance, rookie,” he sneers, planting his feet on the ground and bracing himself to charge. “This isn’t school ball anymore. This is for men only.”
He’s trying to goad me, trying to make me lose my focus and make a mistake. But it’s not going to happen. I may be nervous making the step up from college ball, but no one gets in my head but me – especially not this asshole.
“Then what are you doing here?” I counter, flashing him my cockiest grin.
Bryce, our quarterback, calls the play. It’s one we used to run back at
Houston, and Coach adopted it for me. It’s got one aim and one aim only: get the ball to me. My body tenses – every muscle ready to react, waiting…
“Hike!”
And I’m off like a horse out of the gate. My defender doesn’t even have time to react before I’m blowing past him and sprinting full speed down the field. I should be cutting back by now, but I want to get some extra yardage. The play calls for a pass that will probably end with a good ten yard gain, but that’s not good enough for me. Not today.
Today I let everyone know that Walker Johnson has arrived.
My defender’s hot on my heels now when I finally cut back for the pass. A defenseman’s headed straight at Bryce, but he ducks at the last minute and shoulders the guy hard, sending him flying over his back. Bryce looks up field, spots me and sends a missile my way.
The ball spirals towards me, and I can feel the hopes of every fan in the stadium riding along with it. I can hear the commentators, the reporters, the students back in Houston as they all hold their breath, waiting to see what I’m going to do.
And I don’t let them down. I can’t.
I’m Walker-fucking-Johnson – the Stallion!
With deadeye precision, I reach out with both hands, snatch the ball out of the air and keep running. I got this. A defender streaks towards me, but he doesn’t stand a chance. I strong-arm him out of the way and jump over his falling body. Another guy comes up behind me and leaps for my ankles, but I juke to the left and leave him in the dust.
In seconds, the crowd is on their feet. The roar of their voices surges behind me like a wave that down the field. The forty, the thirty, the twenty, the ten!
Touchdown!
I spike the ball and turn to see a horde of my teammates rushing towards me, all screaming my praises.
“Hell yeah!” Someone shouts.
“Way to go, rookie!”
That’s how it’s done! I think, swelling with pride. Two of them lift me up and hold me up like a trophy. I did it. Coach took a chance on me, put me in as the new guy, and I brought it home for the team.
I know Emmy is freaking out at her seat, probably leaping all over Abbey and screaming. You couldn’t ask for a more supportive woman. She’s even taken over Kyle’s job of making pre-workout shakes, only hers don’t taste like death.
Our kicker, Kevin Perrone, makes the extra point, and we win the game by one. One point! Not a blowout, but hey, a win’s a win, and this is great foreshadowing for the rest of the season.
With this team, if we keep things up, we’ve got a real shot at the championship. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it’s not just me saying that; it’s the commentators, the bloggers online, and even the rest of the players in the league.
Wouldn’t that be something? My first year in the league and my team brings home the trophy? It’s almost too much to think about, but I just can’t help it at a time like this.
Emmy’s waiting for me at the sidelines after the game, and as sweaty as I am, she rushes over to me and wraps her arms around me. I’ll never grow tired of our lips meeting. This is the only girl I want to kiss for the rest of my life.
“You did it!” She shouts in my ear, struggling to be heard of the celebrating stadium.
“I didn’t know if he’d put me in!” I confess to her.
“He’d be an idiot not to!” She says reassuringly. “I bet you start for the rest of the year!”
There’s nothing like the love of a good woman. I know that now. Choosing between Emmy and the horde of girls that wanted me wasn’t even a choice, and I was an even hotter commodity with my transition to the pros.
“Looks like you got yourself a keeper there, Johnson,” Coach says, coming up behind me and slapping me on the shoulder. “Nice catch by the way.”
He grins.
“You got that right, coach,” I say back, turning my gaze to Emmy.
I am a one woman man, now and forever.
Epilogue
Two years later…
The weather in Seattle is much more tolerable than Houston. It’s in the high sixties today, and there’s a nice breeze out on the back porch. The humidity is a little high for my taste, but I really have nothing to complain about these days as I gaze out across the back yard of our new house.
Josh is getting so big, and my heart melts as I watch him with Walker. He’s pretty good on his feet now, and he’s talking up a storm. He was walking at seven months, and will no doubt end up being an athlete like his father. He’s so sure of himself too. I just can’t get over how cute he is in his shorts that go down past his knees, and his little football jersey. I already know I won’t be able to part with any of that, and have set aside some room upstairs for his baby clothes.
It’s not like we don’t have the room. Walker’s salary for Seattle got us a ridiculous house in a beautiful neighborhood. It’s more than I need, but Walker has the money and we wanted somewhere safe to raise our family, which will be growing soon.
I reach down and place a hand on my belly, which seems to have grown a lot recently. In just two more months, Josh will have a baby brother. We haven’t settled on a name yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I keep churning out handsome boys.
Walker and I just can’t keep our hands off each other. And he loves my pregnant body.
“Have you seen your tits!?” He said to me just before Josh was born. “I’m going to have to knock you up every year!”
I’d laughed, but he was right. My already “awesome rack” had grown a full cup size. I’d had to buy all new bras and tops. I had to admit I liked it too. Seeing the desire in Walker’s eyes when he would come home from practice was something I will never get tired of.
I’ve seen couples who stay together a long time, and eventually the spark dies, and I never want to be like that. With Walker, I don’t think it would even be possible. When we’re together, our sex drives skyrocket, and when we’re apart, all I can think about is him.
Having Josh has forced us to slow down a bit, and I’ve thought seriously about hiring a fulltime babysitter, just so I have someone to watch him when Walker and I need a few minutes of alone time.
Walker got a house for his mom just a few blocks down. Her cancer is in full remission, and she’s in better shape than I am at this point. She’s doing yoga every morning, swimming three times a week and has been talking about doing one of those crazy runs up mountains that people do these days.
I took a lot of time off from work when Josh was born, but I’ve managed to maintain a very healthy journalism career, working freelance for different papers and online news sites. A piece I did on the homeless population in Seattle was very well-received and helped a local soup kitchen with donations to upgrade their kitchen.
I had to gloat a little, and sent Peter a copy of the article. A week later I got a cupcake in the mail with a letter attached: Congratulations. You are a serious journalist now (except for the fact that you married the lead of one of your assignments!)
Thinking back to my days at the Tribune, I wonder what my life would be like now if Peter hadn’t handed me that assignment. Would I still be with Ronald, completely unaware of his infidelity? Would I have ended up sleeping with him and having his child?
Ugh!
Even thinking about this possibility makes my stomach turn. I like to think I would have wised up, but the fact remains; if Peter hadn’t given me that story, Walker and I almost certainly never would have met.
And when I look at him now, tossing a tiny football to my son, I can’t imagine my life without him. I don’t want to.
Walker Johnson put me through the rockiest, most head spinning times of my life, but I came out the other side completely in love. It was worth it. I wouldn’t trade any of those days for the world, no matter how miserable I thought I was at time.
Who would have thought that a good girl like me and a bad boy like Walker would end up together? That cocky, arrogant, party boy with a million dollar smile had a heart of gold a
nd he was hiding it the whole time. It took me to get him to show it.
You couldn’t have picked two more opposite people, and maybe that’s why I know this will work. We complete each other.
Walker and I both know what winning means. But no outcome of any game can trump the feelings we both have now. Our family is together, and we will be forever. I know it. After his last game, Walker and I lay in bed, and he told me, “Emmy, none of the money, the trophies, the fans, the fame – none of it can compare to what I feel when I wake up every morning next to you.”
I melted, and told him I loved him.
He told me he’d never leave me, and I knew he meant it.
We were going to be together forever. Walker-fucking-Johnson and Emmy Hutchinson, the girl with the “great rack.” I couldn’t write a better story if Peter told me to.
The End
Author’s Note
Huge thank you to all my fans and supporters that have been with me so far on the ride of my life. Writing is my dream and my passion, and sharing it with you is one of the greatest joys of my life
I hope my stories brighten your day or bring you a little excitement ;) … or both!
More to come!
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Autumn Avery
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